When Chiron made a comparison between the two women, Amal felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach like a stone to the ocean floor.  Her mind threatened, 'One step forward and two steps back,' as her focus turned to Harris.  The mage could only watch as the other woman's frown deepened with each new word of Chiron's open and honest reprimand.<br/><br/>'He's not seeing her side of the circumstances,' the mage worried.  Her hands had fallen to her lap, away from the mug of ale before her, and she was pressing her nails into her palms subconsciously.  Drawing a shaky breath, Amal let the guilt weight on her as she thought, 'I kept her here.  She might have gone after them if I hadn't been in such a foul mood.  She stayed here… for me.'<br/><br/>For a brief moment, both of her eyes met Harris' good one but all she saw was anger from her counterpart.<br/><br/>Amal continued to watch the exchange between Chiron and Harris in silence, wondering what in Spira had managed to darken the warrior's always-sunny disposition.  She'd never seen him so out of sorts before.  Not even when faced with the first major plateau of black magic, which marked a departure from status ailments to a more elemental focus, had the warrior lost his cheeky grin.  What was really bothering him?<br/><br/>He'd said the word 'duty' twice, she realized.  Amal was fortunate to have known Chiron long enough to understand he was a man of principle, who put his promises to others above all else.  He'd promised Ethan he would become his Guardian and Harris had made that same promise.  If she wasn't willing to follow through… could it be Chiron felt Harris' promise to become a Guardian was, in some way, making light the weight his own commitment carried?  Was this anger to protect Ethan?<br/><br/>She thought of the Summoner and what was waiting at the end of this journey.  Hadn't things gone well at the temple?  Concentrating on the ache she felt in her chest when she thought of his selflessness, the mage wondered to herself if, perhaps, things had not gone well.  If he hadn't been able to obtain the Aeon in Killika-but she banished the thought before it could fully manifest.  In the morning she was going to tell him she would become a Guardian, and as such, she couldn't allow herself such thoughts.  But if there was another way…<br/><br/>When the mage forced herself to focus back on the present moment, Amal noticed Chiron leaving the bar.  She stood up, calling after him, "Chiron?"<br/><br/>But he didn't turn around.<br/><br/>Pivoting on her heel to look at Harris, Amal noticed the other woman had emptied her mug.  Reaching out like she meant to lay a hand on the Blitzer's forearm but hesitating at the last moment, she whispered, "Harris?"<br/><br/>Cutting her off, the Blitzer snapped, "I don't need your forgiveness."<br/><br/>She walked out of the bar, presumably to look for Chiron, and Amal was left standing alone.  Her eyes met those of the friendly barkeep who had spent the better part of the evening keeping both hers and Harris' glasses full.  Seeming to sense what Amal was thinking, the woman chuckled politely, "Don't you worry about her share of the tab, love.  We'll stick her father with it.  He'll want to know, at least, she was home.  Even if it was only to pass through."<br/><br/>"Her father?"<br/><br/>"He's the local priest, up at the temple," the barkeep supplied, flipping her hair over her shoulder and drying two mugs on the corner of her apron.  "None of my business to tell you this, but she hasn't been home since she ran away from the altar on her wedding day."<br/><br/>Amal frowned, gritting her teeth.  It didn't take long to accept Harris had lied to her, but that didn't mean the realization sat very well with her.<br/><br/>"I'd say it's been three, four years.  You'd think they would have made up by now, but they are both so stubborn," the woman continued.  When Amal didn't reply, she chuckled in embarrassment, "Listen to me, droning on and on about your friend.  Well, care to settle up?"<br/><br/>"Do you happen to have any food?" she asked, reaching out for her Moogle, which happily jumped into her arms.  Pulling the Moogle to her chest, she met the barkeep's eyes and added, "It's for our Summoner."<br/><br/>"You're a Guardian?" the woman raised an eyebrow.  "Then does that mean-Harris too?"<br/><br/>"Yes, Harris is a Guardian," she acknowledged, deciding not to answer the first part of the question.<br/><br/>"Harris is a Guardian," the woman repeated to herself, quickly shuffling behind the bar to package a bit of bread, meat, and cheese in a cloth napkin.  As she handed it to the mage, she added, "For Harris' Summoner, it's on the house.  All of it."<br/><br/>"I must insist we pay," Amal smiled politely.  "Really."<br/><br/>"Absolutely not!"<br/><br/>"Please."<br/><br/>"Have a nice evening!" the barkeep ignored her to turn around to where a sink of suds and a mountain of barware awaited washing.  "Thanks for stopping in."<br/><br/>"Thank you," Amal smiled, hurrying out of the bar.<br/><br/>She remembered passing the Inn on her way, which made retracing her steps easy enough.  It was well after sundown, though there were still plenty of people milling about the docks she felt safe enough walking through the village.  The streets of Killika at night felt nothing like those of Bevelle.  Things here were warmer, happier; but as her eyes followed the gleam of moonlight out towards the ocean, she considered they were not necessarily safer.<br/><br/>Once she reached the Inn, she was greeted by an old man at the front desk with a polite, "Hello, miss."<br/><br/>"Hello," she replied.  "I'm looking for the Summoner."<br/><br/>"You're his Guardian?" the old man asked.<br/><br/>"I've brought him food," Amal dodged the question.  Her eyes quickly wandered through the establishment, and she noticed three Crusaders sitting near a staircase which probably led to the rooms.  They were playing cards.<br/><br/>"Of course," the man chuckled.  "Upstairs, last door on the right."<br/><br/>She lowered her chin in thanks and turned on her heel towards the staircase.  As she passed the Crusaders, she noticed they had lowered their voices to whispers.  Not that she'd been trying to listen, but it had been suspicious enough she'd been careful about how much noise her footsteps made as she ascended to the next level of the Inn.  As she turned on the landing, she could barely make out the mutterings of the men.  Something like 'looked like he could barely stand,' and 'poor bloke's got 'is work cut out for 'im' reached her ears.<br/><br/>The mage frowned, wondering if they were talking about Ethan.  Deciding they probably were, she hurried up the last two steps and counted the brightly-colored doorways she passed them.  At the last one on the right, she hesitated.  Her mind admonished, 'Waking up a Summoner?  You know he needs his rest."  Shaking her head, she knocked lightly on the door.<br/><br/>No answer.<br/><br/>She knocked again, this time slightly louder.<br/><br/>No answer.<br/><br/>Biting her lower lip, she turned to look back down the hall like there might be some answer for her there.  She was alone.  The only light came from a series of candles burning in sconces on the walls.  Sighing, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore the way her mind berated her cowardice-like it hadn't just admonished her for thinking to wake him in the first place.  She felt frustrated her mind was working through so many opposites it made her toes curl in her boots.  Deciding he was thoroughly asleep and she would have been making a fool of herself anyway, Amal turned around to head back to the Innkeeper to secure a room of her own.