Celes had been sitting, all night, at the alleged Gerad's table in his pub of choice. Sabin had given up hours before. He's obviously up to something, and he'll drop the act when he's ready, he'd said. No point to pushing it. But she refused to bow to a twin's superior knowledge. Edgar was just wasting everyone's time. Hers, Sabin's, and even the various rough-looking men who circulated by the table during breaks from their carousing.

She'd been bringing up his identity at intervals all evening, in between visits from the alleged Gerad's alleged gang. The smoke and the need to be heard over the dull roar of background noise were both taking their toll on her throat; she'd be heading to bed soon enough, but not before one last attempt.

"My lady, whoever this man you seek may be—"

"Edgar," she said wearily, all the snap worn out of her voice.

"—I can see he means a great deal to you. If I can help console you..." He was leaning in close, his knee pressed against hers.

She didn't move away, just sighed, again, "Edgar..."

"If you'd rather pretend that's who I am— pretend I'm your absent lover—"

"He's not my lover," she said, but she didn't shake her head or push his hand away as he tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "You're not my lover."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"I'm not worried about hurting him. Why am I playing along with you? This is ridiculous." But his hand was warm against her neck, and they were very close right now.

"It'll be our little secret," he said, his breath warm on her cheek, and she turned her face to meet his lips.