Chapter Text
Night watch assignments were randomized. The only rule was that whoever went the night before couldn’t go again, so if you knew who went last time, you knew who you might end up stuck with for the next ten sleepless hours of your night. It didn’t matter how much of a problem you had with that person, and if you wanted to complain, you’d have to take it up with Vergilius. Of course, no sane person would.
Faust was less than enthused about being assigned Don Quixote as her partner, but she’d been through worse. She’d take the heroic sinner’s grating screams over any of Hohenheim’s critiques any day.
When Don came barreling outside to meet her, she let out a sigh to mentally prepare herself for the rest of the night.
“Lady Faust! Are thou prepared to become guardians of the night? How honorable it is to be entrusted with such great responsibility!” Don Quixote said far too loudly for someone meant to be on guard.
“Yes, Don Quixote. Please do not speak so loudly, such noise may attract unwanted attention to our location.”
“Ah, apologies! I shan’t speak with such volume anymore!” Don whispered back.
While quieter, it never got to be truly silent. It was impossible with someone like Don Quixote around. If she wasn’t idly swinging her lance or fidgeting with the pins on her jacket, she was talking about Fixers. Faust tuned her out mostly, not interested in whatever she had to say.
However, after some tangent about the Black Silence that she didn’t really hear, Don asked, “Lady Faust, you know all, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Are you capable of sharing even the most niche trivia regarding Fixers then?” Don looked at her wide eyed. Faust already could tell where she was headed.
“Yes. However, Faust sees no need to access such knowledge at this time.”
“Alas, I thought you knew all.” - Don dramatically turned away from her with a hand on her forehead. - “But you, Lady Faust, are fraudulent!”
Obviously, that remark was meant to bait Faust into sharing whatever knowledge of Fixers that Don could want. Obviously, it was a juvenile trick that no researcher of Faust’s intelligence would ever fall for. Obviously, the most reasonable response would be to say nothing at all.
Yet, she spent the rest of the night recounting random trivia about Color Fixers to Don Quixote like some sort of search engine. The strangest part about the whole ordeal was that it was actually rather pleasant. By the time their shift was complete, a smile had crept along Faust’s face.
It felt strange, but was a welcome surprise nonetheless.