“Close your mouth, chicken shit.” The taller, scarred blonde said. “Don’t make me kick your scrawny ass.”
“Oh yeah, Seifer? Like a foul-mouthed girl like you could.” Zell replied, throwing a few punches to show off.
Seifer snorted, planting one hand on her hip while the other was busy tapping her gunblade against her shoulder. “Here’s a lesson, dumbass- swords trump melee any day.”
“Enough,” Squall interrupted, finally having it with their bickering. “What’s the mission?”
“Well, princess,” the blonde sneered, “it’s rather simple- hopefully your testosterone addled mind will understand. We go in and eliminate any opposition we encounter until we reach the town square and as your leader, you‘re to follow my orders, got it?”
Squall rolled his eyes but acquiesced.
“Ifrit’s hellfire, PMS much?” Zell murmured at Squall’s side so that the other blonde couldn’t hear him.
The brunette shrugged- it was Seifer, what more could he say?