Sammy's grin threatened to launch itself off his face and attack small, tired children with its irresistable exuberance. He gestured expansively to the atrium of the casino and took a deep breath. "Smell that, Clyde? That's the smell of moral tuhpitude."
Clyde sniffed the air experimentally, and sneezed. Sammy clapped him on the back, still grinning. "Not used to it, eh? That's what you get for living on a farm."
He rubbed his nose, irritated. "Fishing village. And I grew up in Chicago."
"Yeah, I know. Your accent makes my eahs hurt."
They walked past an elaborate flower arrangement in the center of the lobby, eliciting another sneeze from Clyde. "Sammy, what letter does 'ear' end with?"
The albino man blinked at his friend. "Eah? It ends in an ah. Why?"
Clyde shook his head. "Just checking." Sammy had already moved on to examine the flowers with startling intensity.
"Lookit this, Clyde. Orchids. I always thought there was somethin' dirty about orchids."
Clyde rolled his eyes. "Sure you did, Georgia O'Keefe. Come on. Your moral turpitude is giving me a headache."
----
Yeah, okay, so I actually wrote that bit last summer, but it still amuses me because damn, am I ever easily amused. It's part of that crazy AU FFVI roadtrip-Las-Vegas-crack!pairing fic.
So, meet Sammy "The Ghost" Gabbiani and Clyde Arrowny. He's an albino black sheep from the mafia, and he's an ex-con with a mysterious past. They fight crime! ...okay, no they don't, they gamble a lot and bicker at each other. And then Daryl shows up, because my favorite number is three (no it isn't, it's sixteen, but close enough, right?) and wacky hijinx ensue. Huzzah!
...Right, I'm going to bed.
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