He dragged his feet, every step of the way. He swore to every god he could think of, even the old and antiquated ones that he only knew because history was a SeeD requirement, and smiting had seemed cool at the time.

‘Course, if there was a benevolent god, he’d have solved Zell’s little problem months ago.

Instead, he found himself at Seifer’s dormroom door, pouting out of dignity. It had come to this – crawling back – but at least he lasted much longer than anyone would have expected from him.

Except Seifer, who merely smirked knowingly.

"Shut up," Zell insisted.