WHO: Edgar Figaro WHAT: Edgar's last meeting before he returns to Balamb. And a potential fuckload of foreshadowing. WHERE: Deling City, Galbadia WHEN: Evening of Wednesday, April 15. WARNINGS: N/A
If you wanted a good gauge about how exhausted you were, you could try pushing a heavy door and see how far that got you. That was one of Edgar Figaro’s many unpopular philosophies which he put to the test that afternoon. The door to the bathroom was made of solid wood with vine-like patterns carved into its burnt surface. When Edgar pushed it open, he’d had to put his arm and leg muscles to the test. He gave it a shove to swing back shut unguided as soon as he was in the blue tiled men’s room, shaking his head at such needless difficulty.
Shortly after he relieved himself, the door swung open again, this time letting in a man with a thick mat of black hair, shorn short as if to compliment his healthy, ruddy complexion. The effort seemed to have punished him more than it had Edgar but he could guess it was for entirely different reasons. “You know, if you stay for a couple more days here in Galbadia, I wager you’ll get used to the heat, Mr. North.”
“Please,” he gasped, shaking his head. “I’m practically aching for a snowstorm now!”
Edgar’s laughter reverberated in the empty room. He turned on the tap and began to wash. “Come now, Galbadia can’t be that bad!”
“You were born in the belly of the desert. This would be nothing to you!”
“You give me too much credit, I think,” Edgar chuckled, killing the water just when the larger man beside him bent over awkwardly to rinse his own hands. He reached behind the mirror hanging over the sink for the hidden tissue. “So. Any plans this evening before you go back, Mr. North?”
“What else?” he laughed, imitating the Galbadian soon after. “With my wife, you know there is always one place we must go.”
“Ahhh!” Edgar knew. The loudness of his voice and the echoes said as much. “Well, she won’t be disappointed. The one here in Deling is no match to Jidoor’s but,” his head bounced sideways, “it has its own charms.”
“You gamble often?”
“No,” Edgar said, smiling as he binned the crumpled sheets of tissue. “I never learned and even if I did, I wouldn’t dare venture without my lucky charm.”
“Ahhh.” Mr. North nodded diplomatically. “Your...girlfriend, was it?”
At the time when he and Mr. North had met in Jidoor, he and Red technically weren’t official yet. It would be hours later before they would confess their feelings and consummate their love but at the time he and Mr. North met, he hadn’t been clear about their status yet. Now he could smile, nod and say, “Yes. My girlfriend.”
“Margaret, was it?”
“Almost but not quite. It’s Margery.”
“Ah yes! I knew it didn’t sound too old.” Mr. North appeared happy with the correction, head bouncing eagerly. “She’s doing well?”
“Just fine, thank you. Actually,” the succession of Edgar’s words were quick, prompting Mr. North to turn to him from the mirror as he shifted a little closer, “about her, I was wondering...see, I had mentioned visiting your mines to her one day as,” he waved his hand outwards, “a part of our partnership and...I suppose there’s no easier way to say this than that she’s expressed a great deal of interest in coming along.”
“Has she!”
“Yes,” Edgar attempted a smile. He spoke quickly. “Margery’s just very curious about all sorts of things and she’s presently pursuing a degree in business. You can say she’s my protege but I thought maybe...that is, if it’s all right with you…”
“Well, if I refused, I think my wife wouldn’t let me come home until I rectified my error,” Mr. North said, smiling. “She’s certainly made a mark on my wife, that Margery of yours, I’ll tell you. Anyhow, what I meant to say is she’s more than welcome to join us, of course. We’re not just going there for business, after all. I remember you wanted to learn how to ski!”
“Actually,” Edgar winced, “the words I remembered you said was would you like to learn how to ski?” Every part of the sentence enunciated. “And I said and this I clearly remember, I would have to think about it.”
“That’s as good as saying yes!
“Mr. North, please.”
“Mr. Figaro!” Mr. North’s humor bounced off his thick chest and against the walls. A meaty hand reached to pat Edgar at the back. “You mustn’t refuse your host, it’s simply impolite!”
“I don’t remember that part of my lessons.”
“Well now you do!” his laughter faded slowly. “Fine, we’ll talk about skiing some other time before you schedule a sickness on that day. Now you and Ms. Margery, of course! I’ll be delighted to have you along...of course, of course…” There was an uncharacteristic pause after he trailed off, filled with nothing but Mr. North’s beam and Edgar’s own awkward version of it. “Margery, Ms. Margery...she’s curious about many things, you said?”
“Very recently.”
“Would that happen to include...Guardian Forces maybe?”
Edgar blinked, lips parting open in mild shock. For a second there, he was almost ready to believe that Red and Mr. North had shared an earlier conversation prior to this meeting. “Yes...why yes, in fact it does! W, what...how, why did you ask?”
“Rumors, my friend. Very rich ones, too,” Mr. North said. Conspiratorially, he added, “I heard that there is a frozen Guardian Force sitting just on top of our mines. A frozen Guardian Force! Would you believe that?”
“I...find myself a little…” Edgar felt… “uncertain!” Guardian Forces now? Was this for real? It seemed to Edgar that he was just winding up one thing when another was already raring to explode and make a mess of it! All his hard work to keep everything in order...
“But it is rich, you must agree,” he insisted, patting Edgar again before he returned him his personal space. “A feathered one, like a bird. Perhaps you and Ms. Margery would be interested to see it?”
“You just want a pair of SeeDs to look into this at your convenience.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t willing to pay and make some arrangements if it proves true.”
Well, Mr. North was right. And Edgar knew the man to be a generous, straight kind of guy. And a Guardian Force...it had been ages since he had a close encounter with one outside the summoned variety but if this was true…
A smile crawled slowly up his face. Duty had never been defined as something that you had to enjoy doing, anyway. “I’ll make it a point to mention this to Margery.” At least someone would be excited in his place.
“That’s fine, that’s fine.” Mr. North started for the door, prompting Edgar to follow him out. “Don’t forget to mention the skiing, too.”
“Mr. North, please!”
“She might be interested!” His laughter boomed again as he pulled the door open. “Damn this door for being heavy--”
“Mr. North!” Edgar’s exclamation wasn’t so much a warning than it was an expression of shock when a slender man, dressed in a black two-piece suit came stumbling into the men’s room. His mouth and eyes competed against each other for the most perfect shape of an O. Mr. North caught the man before he broke his nose on the tiles and apologized profusely. “My mistake, my mistake!” he was saying, “I didn’t think anyone would be waiting outside.”
“I think we just opened the door at the same time,” the man said cheerfully despite his near accident. He had a crow-like nose, a sharp chin and a pair of eyes that seemed to electrify everything it set its eyes on. He put on a smile and nodded to Edgar in greeting. Edgar nodded back. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything?”
“No, we were just on our way out,” Mr. North turned to Edgar, “Mr. Figaro?”
“Figaro?” Those eyes sparkled in recognition. “Figaro...Edgar of the FTS?”
“None other,” Edgar responded cautiously. He reached to him for a handshake before he could stop himself. “How do you do?”
“Very good, thank you.” He grasped Edgar’s hand and shook it. “I’m delighted to finally be meeting you in person! We would have been business partners by now but late arrangements have made it impossible.”
“Has it?” Edgar asked, an automatic reaction while he retrieved his hand, spoken without truly understanding the meaning behind his words. The answer chased him soon after he added, “That’s unfortunate. How long ago was this--?” His realization never made him finish his question.
“Very recently.” The man proceeded to confirm his suspicions. “I’m Jan Owzer. Of--”
“--Fenix Industries,” Edgar sputtered, nodding in recognition. A coincidence? A very convenient one for sure. “Of course. Of course I remember.”
“Owzer,” repeated Mr. North, regarding Jan with furrowed brows while the man reached to scratch his right ear tenderly and to massage its lobe as if he wore an irritating earring. Edgar’s hand fell delicately on his arm so that he shuffled aside to set the door free for new male visitors. “Owzer, any relations to the famous art collector?”
“Yes,” Jan answered happily, a soft tune playing from the mobile device in his belt, causing him to flip his jacket back to take it. A flash of silver caught Edgar’s eyes, somewhere on his right breast. “He’s my cousin from my mother's side.”
“Your cousin!”
Edgar felt a shiver of deja vu.
“What a small world this is,” Mr. North laughed. “And here I thought you Owzers preferred to dabble exclusively with art and humanities!”
“We like to dabble with anything that holds our interest.” Edgar wasn't sure but he thought that smile he flashed him was one that knew. “And how is your brother, by the way?” he asked, phone in hand to read a text. “He's a very elusive man, isn't he?”
“He knows how to hide from the spotlight is all,” he answered drily.
“He does,” Jan laughed, agreeing.
“But he's good. Thank you. For asking.” Despite his clipped response, Edgar managed to smile.
“I trust he is,” Jan said with his own sticky smile. “Well! I’d hate to cut our introductions short but we appear to be in the way,” he indicated the heavy door, “and I have to go now,” he shook their hands once each. Edgar thought he would do very well as a senator, “work calls.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you! Until next time,” was Mr. North's charmed goodbye.
Edgar nodded and smiled.
Jan Owzer left them in a hurry, phone against his left ear so that he had to cross his right arm over his chest to reach it. He disappeared past the glass door held open by a younger man in a uniform.
“Jan Owzer,” Mr. North began not long after, drawing Edgar’s attention to the man wandering farther from the men’s room which, if one thought about it, was an embarrassing place for first impressions. “Hm. I never would have known...Fenix Industries dabbles in power management, don’t they?”
“Process management,” Edgar answered in a snap, and with obvious reasons. “It’s...the same field that the Figaro Technological Solutions plays in.”
“Oh,” Mr. North blinked. “I never would have thought...because that would make you--”
“--competitors.” Edgar nodded. “Unless the man is thinking of a subsidiary-type of partnership which,” with a tight, high shrug he said, “I have no way of knowing!” almost too happily. But then immediately after that conclusion, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was being too irresponsible. There was a saying that went along the lines of keeping one’s enemies closer than one’s friends…
“If it’s a startup company, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were dreaming big things for themselves.” Edgar had a feeling that Mr. North was trying to reassure him and for all its success, he appreciated it all the same. “Well! It’s been quite a pleasure to meet with you again, Mr. Figaro. I’m excited to see our project started!”
“As we are,” Figaro assured him with two hands clasping his beefy one. “Thank you for coming all this way to meet me. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Have a safe trip back to Balamb.”
“Good luck at the tables.”
They shared a smile. Mr. North clapped him fondly over the shoulder and they separated, Mr. North back to his wife with a second cup of coffee, Edgar on his way out of the restaurant.
Chance waited for him inside the car behind the wheels, leaving the doorman to open the passenger’s seat for Edgar. “Fruitful?”
“You have no idea,” Edgar groaned, stretching himself backwards to undo the button over his suit jacket. “Guess who I met.”
“Sybille?” Chance started the engine.
“No!” Edgar laughed. “Do you think I’d still be sitting here alive if it was her? No, it was someone else.”
“I can’t begin to imagine.” They rolled out of the cobbled driveway.
Overhead, the golden lamplights stooped and watched as they drifted casually down the public road, polished cars and storefronts sweeping past. The moon was only a vague sliver in the darkening night sky, almost imperceptible amidst all the electric lights. “Jan Owzer,” he finally revealed.
“Of the Fenix Industries?”
“None other,” Edgar chuckled, repeating his previous line. He seemed to be amused of his own reflection as he turned to the window next to him. “Young man, about my age, maybe...he asked about Sabin, did you know?”
“Thoughtful of him.” Chance’s passing comment as he glided smoothly between two SUVs to take a turn. “But, not surprising. Sabin is a convenient topic to talk about.”
“Chance, please.” Edgar looked to the man again. “I’m asking you, don’t ask Sabin about what Red told you.”
“Am I not supposed to know?”
“You’re not. You know that.” Edgar exhaled looking past the windshield. “The day Sabin and I don’t keep something from you is the day either one of us is dead. That’s the one thing that will never change from our boyhood.” He whipped his head back to his chauffeur. “And Sabin will talk if you lay a guilt trip on him so don’t you dare.”
“I will not make Master Sabin guilty, I promise.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I can only promise so much, Master.”
Edgar glared at his smirk. “You are the worst, Chance, has anybody told you that?”
“Aside from you? I find my list lacking.”
“You are the absolute worst.” Edgar shook his head, returning his attention to his window. The train station steadily crawled up from the horizon not long after. “He can take care of this. I trust him to do it.”
“I know.”
“And I’ll look after him.” Edgar whipped back to Chance. “I can do it.”
Chance offered him a vague smile which accompanied his hand falling on Edgar’s shoulder. “Look after yourself when you can, Master. Don’t lose sight of what’s important. I can only do so much for the family.”
Edgar wasn’t frowning. He swore he wasn’t. Tried not to, anyway.
The car pulled to a stop before the station. Edgar opened his door, stepped out to button his jacket again just as Chance rose to retrieve his luggage from the backseat. He reached to grasp him by the arm while Edgar reclaimed his stuff.
“Take care.”
“And you.” Edgar nodded. He didn’t wait for Chance to pull back to the road when he made for the entrance, pulling his bag behind him. His phone was in his left before he was even through the door. On my way back to BG, read the screen. He would send it to Sabin, to Red and to Xu…
Sabin wasn’t home.
For a moment there, Edgar felt like dashing his mobile to the concrete, almost did it if he didn’t remember the pictures Sabin was sending him. He would need it for more, he realized just in time.
He held onto it as he turned right from the entrance, heading for the lifts. He held onto it like he had half a mind to break it in his grip.