That night, as they sat around a table in the Seventh Heaven, Ajir detailed the job they were starting the next morning. The more they learned about it, the more Amon thought that it didn’t sound like fun. However, because Ajir went through so much to make sure to include him, for Zuri’s sake, Amon didn’t have it in him to back out.
“So let me get this straight,” Mocho clarified after Ajir was through. “We’re hired to protect a small, unknown shipment – a lone chocobo and driver – through Coerthas?”
“Yes,” the Au Ra nodded.
“To where in Coerthas?” The Lalafell was asking the important questions.
“Well, I’m not completely certain. I don’t know much about that area.” Ajir frowned a bit. Then he lifted a weathered piece of parchment and waved it for them to see, “However, the employer has furnished us with a map.”
“Does any of us know much about Coerthas?” Mocho countered, frowning, too.
Zuri looked down at the table, indicating her lack of knowledge.
Ajir glanced at Amon and demanded, “He should know, right?”
It was the Elezen’s turn to frown, “Excuse me?”
“You’re a Long-ears. Isn’t that where your kind come from?”
“I’ve only set foot in Coerthas once that I’m aware of. That was coming here to Mor Dhona,” Amon retorted, which for all purposes, was as true as he could tell it. There’d never been a wasteland of snow so near to his homeland during his time. And it certainly wasn’t called “Coerthas” back under Allagan rule.
Ajir grimaced, “And here I thought you’d be good for something.”
Amon opened his mouth to respond with something he would have probably regretted, but thankfully, Mocho intervened.
“I’m not getting a good feeling about this one, Ajir,” the Lalafell told him, not beating around the bush.
“I know, but there’s not much to choose from without a full, functional party,” the Au Ra’s tone heaped more scorn upon their lack of a healer yet again. “Not to mention, the pay is good. Very good.”
“Yes, well, this may be a dangerous job,” Mocho noted. Then he put it in their hands. “Do we think we’re up to this?”
There was silence at the table.
Finally, Zuri spoke up, “I think we should try it. We could be just fine.”
Mocho gave her a soft look, “Your optimism is always welcome, Zuri. But ‘could be’ and ‘will be’ are very different things.”
This made the girl press her lips together, and reword her approach, “We can do it.”
Amon leaned back in his chair and murmured, “I will go.”
Mocho looked at Ajir. The Samurai spread his hands, “I got us the job. I feel we’re fit for it.”
“Alright. If everyone agrees,” the Lalafell sighed a bit, dismissing himself from the table. “I’m going to catch some shut-eye. I assume we leave early in the morning.”
Amon watched him walk away, only speaking after he was long out of sight, “Is Mocho all right?”
“He’ll be fine,” Zuri answered. “He does this every time.”
“He appears to have paternal instincts over our group,” Ajir stated.
Amon laughed at this, picturing such a little fellow being fatherly over everyone else. But, his laughter faded as Ajir’s expression indicated he was being very serious.
“Mocho worries he won’t be strong enough,” Zuri added. “We’re trying to help him get acclimated, but it’s a big shift for him to make.”
“’Tis a big shift for anyone,” Amon agreed.
There wasn’t much conversation after that. They all said their good-nights and left to get rest for the next day.