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The door of the hospital room creaked open carefully, a familiar mop of lavender hair poking out from behind a bouquet of flowers that nearly dwarfed its holder in size as it carefully shuffled inside. At the sight of her—even if she couldn't see him in turn yet— Estinien's old high school javelin throw instincts immediately kicked in and he flung his phone across the room, where it hit the corner with a BANG and fell behind the recliner there. Regret and shame immediately flooded him but on the other hand the damned thing's screen was already cracked anyway and Ysayle had been mocking him for months about how old it was.
At the sound, Ninira peeked around the barrage of colourful flowers that didn't look right at all between the sterile hospital room and himself, the guy who ripped his favourite leather pants and nearly died trying to help his stupid friends move their stupid new piano up the stairs for twenty gil and thought anything more saturated than a cool gray was too bright.
"Estinien? I hope I didn't surprise you too bad—"
"Ninira," Estinien greeted as casually as he could despite having possibly destroyed his cellphone for no fucking reason.
Behind the recliner, said phone pinged innocently with another Linkcord message.


