Setting:  The Town of Balamb, eveningtime.
Characters: Irvine and Farrell.
A Little Background:  Irvine's past includes the death of a childhood friend.  Since the Convergence, his friend is suddenly alive and has been searching the disc for Irvine and a clue to his past death.



Resting on one of the many benches in the town is a youth that may or may not be familiar, depending on who sees him. Hunched over slightly, his hands dangle freely in between and below his slightly spread knees when he's not adjusting his gloves or fixing his hair every once in a while. Glancing around expressionless, he appears somewhat depressed about something, but it'd be hard to tell without asking.

Ah, some downtime, always welcome to Irvine as he enter Balamb township. Gun nestled against his shoulder, he seems all smiles tonight, tipping his hat to a pair of giggly teenage girls as he passes by them. Not that he's much older then they are, his face far too youthful. The expressionless youth goes unnoticed for the moment, the two girls getting most of the gunman's attention as a round of flirtatious banter ensues between them briefly.

Stretching himself upright on the bench, the young man crosses his legs out in front of him and folds his hands behind his head. It's time to try and relax, apparently. A fresh cut is noticeable on the underside of his forearm, still bleeding yet managing to be ignored by him. Either he's into self mutilation or he's recently been in a fight with something. Letting his mind wander, he stares off into space for the time being, thinking.

Walking backwards to complete the cycle of 'flirt flirt flirt', Irvine finally tips his hat to the two girls and spins around, a wide, smug grin crossing his lips. Course, he's nearly backed himself into the bench of above mentioned youth who's attempting to relax. Stopping rather suddenly, he murmurs, "Whoa, sorry," the smile fading slightly.

The young man leaps up off the bench and brings his clenched fists up in front of him, at the same time putting himself into a fighting stance. Apparently startled by the clumsy movements and sudden reference to him, it was merely a natural reaction. Grumbling and lowering his hands, the young man glares at Irvine. "Watch where you're going, buddy!" he barks.. bad day, perhaps. Or it may just be in his nature to be like this.

Reminded briefly of Zell, though the comparison ends rather quickly, Irvine lifts an eyebrow, the gesture mostly lost to the brim of his hat. His gun stays against his shoulder, despite the sudden fighting stance in front of him, "Whoa, said sorry there, partner." Blue eyes flicker over the youth in front of him, a twinge of 'je ne sais quois' hitting him like a really bad case of deja vu. "What's got you so jumpy?"

Finally getting annoyed by the open wound, the young man reaches into his back pocket and emerges with a rag that's already marked with blood stains. Links to the past, they are. Having a hard time from taking his eyes off of Irvine, he finds something vaguely familiar about him yet dismisses the thought without addressing it. Shrugging, his eyebrows still turned inward, he replies with. "I just got done fighting some wacko monster outside of town.. it's enough to get anybody jumpy, don't you think?" He breaks the gaze long enough to press the cloth against his forearm, adding necessary pressure to the wound.

Having no real clue when it comes to dressing a wound, Irvine doesn't comment on that, just, "I usually don't get close enough to them to bleed, but that's me." Now he just stares, that feeling of deja vu getting annoying as he searches the recesses of his mind to find where he remembers seeing this kid before. Finally, the hat comes off for a moment as he scratches at his forehead, "Are you from around here? You see kinda familiar."

At first he reponds with a slight glare at Irvine at the comment he made, sneering quietly as he returns to tending the cut. In reply to the question, it appears to be a rather touchy subject, yet he doesn't show any anger about it. More like.. confusion or a sadness about it. Sighing heavilly, he says "Nah, actually I'm from the Galbadia Garden.. but Deling City originally..." he trails off, intentionally at that. The young man doesn't like talking about his past, it appears.

Ah hah! Galbadia Garden seems to be the key. Irvine's smile returns to his lips and the hat is settled back atop his head, "Ah, that must be where I remember you from, I was a student at Galbadia for awhile."

This sparks the youth's interest.. perhaps this could be someone that could answer the questions he has about his past.. or what's happened since his death. His face lights up slightly as he looks at Irvine again carefully. "What's your name?" he asks openly and without hesitation. The cowboy looks familiar, and that only means that he must have known him at one point in his life as well.

"Irvine, Irvine Kinneas," he tips his hat as he introduces himself, a normal gesture for him. Though the feeling of deja vu nags at him, he ignores it. After all, he'll probably figure it out eventually.

The young man's face falls at the mention of that name. The name that he still remembers clearly.. the name of the child that he saw during his final hour. "Irvine... Kinneas?" he stammers, barely getting the whole name out in one breath. Swallowing, he turns his back to the cowboy and steps away a few feet. He looks up at the sky and runs his hand through his hair... this is just.. not right.

Confusion pretty much sums up the look on Irvine's face. He's got a reputation, but usually it's not a bad one as far as he knows. "Hey, um, you ok?" One hand reaches out to touch the kid's shoulder. Watching someone go from bravado to stammering is slightly disconcerting.

The youth laughs uncomfortably, "No, I'm not okay.." moving his shoulder so it removes Irvine's hand from it, he turns to look directly into his eyes. A lifetime passes in front of the teenager once his gaze meets the last pair of eyes he had seen. It's him... With the same laugh as before, he twirls around and falls back into the bench, resting his hands on his knees this time. "You have no idea who I am, do you?" Of course he doesn't.. or at least he shouldn't. This reaction is a little odd, though.. it could just be the shock making his attitude sound as if he doesn't really care.

Hand extended for a moment after being shaken off, Irvine continues with the extremely confused look. No, he doesn't recognize the youth beyond the odd deja vu feeling. But, it's been awhile since he was 12, and though he hangs onto his memories tightly... the event in question was not something he wanted to retain. "No... mind introducing yourself?" He finds the behavior odd, yet he's curious and concerned enough to want to know more.

The teen shakes his head. "Not at all..." Scooting up to the edge of the bench, he loses all expression as he says: "Farrel.. Tennan.." He pronounces each syllable with extreme emphasis as if Irvine were unable to comprehend normal speech. Then he simply waits for a reaction.. if any.

Oh there's a reaction all right. Silence at first as Irvine absorbs the words. Farrell... Farrell....!! His eyes widen, hand reaching up to tip his hat back so he can get a better look at the kid in front of him. No, no way. Farrell was at least a year older then he was back then and... he's dead! The gun suddenly flashes up, aimed at the youth in front of him. "That is not funny, my friend. Farrell died a long time ago." Disbelief.

Farrell's blood begins to boil.. "Oh really?" he says as he stands up and returns to the fighting stance, mainly just for show. He hates it when someone accuses him of lying. "Then if I'm not Farrell, explain how I know about how you and he snuck into the training center at Garden with a bunch of other kids.. only to get me /killed/!!"

The blood drains from Irvine's features. How many kids knew about that incident? Everyone. This _couldn't_ be him, Farrell, it had to be some punk youngster out to make a name for himself getting revenge for Farrell... Yet, his fingers tremble, the gun bowing downward as he loses any will to actually use it, though truthfully he never did. Suddenly, he's begun to really _see_, the face, though older, is the one he saw screaming as the T-Rexaur swung him wildly in the air.

"Oh god... oh god, oh god," Acceptence, and the weighty price that comes with it. "Oh god, Farrell, I'm so sorry."