Zidane had never been so drunk in his life.
Of all things, he had the distinct impression that someone's high and mighty butler had given him some instructions. So maybe when he ignored them he got punched right out of reality? Yeah. Something had happened to disconnect him totally. In a minute, he'd blink and the real world would swim back into Tantalus's headquarters and an addled political debate. Or maybe a game to find out who could remember his lines the longest.
It wouldn't take too long.
Annnnny minute now.
Either he was too lucid to be drunk or this was simultaneously the best and worst trip he'd ever had. And he couldn't even recall what mind-altering substance might've caused this. He had a dim feeling that Quina had another reason for liking frogs, but granted he was not in a position to be thinking rationally.
The fact that he was in a dress that made no logical sense (what were these itchy lace cuffs for to begin with?) wasn't the distressing part. The distressing part was, there existed someone creepy enough to want Zidane in a dress, and in order to be in the thing, Zidane had to at one point have been naked in their presence. And presumably unconscious.
For some inexplicable reason he thought of Kuja and got an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It made his tail lash nervously, again with that odd, constricted feeling. He rested the tip near his ankle and looked sideways at the bow tied firmly to the end, and for once he could think of no snappy one-liner to describe his utter bafflement.
"Yeah. I'm officially disturbed now."
The one coherent notion in his head had to do with drawing his daggers and cutting his way out, due in no small part to the fact that it was so much harder to scratch his ass through lace (and that was how he'd discovered the dress to begin with). But as he felt for his weapons, he noticed the others.
While his first impression might've been a quick estimate of how far his image had just plunged, the more pressing fact was, they were both in similar clothing. That meant the three of them were more than likely in the same boat here, and Zidane hoped he was wrong about however they got in these things for more than his own sake. Of course, they could also be the creepers who did this to him in the first place, but Zidane didn't draw conclusions about a damsel until he had to.
Besides, maybe it was just his imagination, but he got the weirdest flash of deja vu when he saw the blonde one.
It was kind of tough not to flounce on his way over, but Zidane managed. "Hey! Are you two okay?" Normally, flirting came first. But Zidane had just woken up in maybe the creepiest situation he'd ever been in, and he had the unique opportunity to appear less threatening than he actually was. After all, Ruby couldn't always be relied upon to play minor roles, and Baku had a wicked backhand for uncooperative understudies.
So it took virtually no effort to lighten his steps, demurely tuck his disproportionate hands out of sight, and push his voice into the higher registers of a slightly deep-toned, tragically flat-chested young woman.
Apart from being drunk to hell, Zidane was also stumbling into some pretty shit luck--or else he would have been facing Terra when she fell. Even around the shortest skirt he'd seen in some time he just wasn't catching a break today, eh well. At least the girl was cute. Come to think of it there was something a little familiar about her, so he wouldn't even be lying if he started pulling the deja vu gambit on her. "Hey, have we met before? Cuz I could swear I just fell in love with you twice over." Gold. He really should carry something to write this stuff down.
Anyway, much as he hated it, this wasn't really the time or place--and he wasn't in any kind of situation to pick up chicks, especially considering he might as well try to pass off for one as long as he looked the part. Though, there were ladies who looked for love in a softer, feminine way...he was getting distracted. Creepy dolled up prisoners. Right.
He probably should've seen their taller, greener partner-in-cleansing, but somehow she seemed to melt right out of their surroundings at him and made his tail fluff out in surprise when she spoke. Maybe he'd just gotten too focused on the distantly reminiscent one with the big doe eyes. Still, something about her sort of put him on edge; he wasn't sure if the dead tone in her voice came from hopelessness or plain boredom.
The rake baffled him immediately. Apart from some obvious broom work from one or both of them, it was the first thing to suggest that the maid outfits weren't just a fetish, but a theme, and for some screwed reason their mysterious captor got his rocks off to actual manual labor. Not that Zidane was complaining in the face of the alternative, as long as this wasn't leading up to something worse. But apart from whatever happened to him in between not being in this dress and finding himself in it, it rankled him to think that someone could've messed with either of these ladies in the same way.
"Jeez, what a--" He coughed. "What a weird thing to do to a rake, if we're even supposed to use it here." Despite, and maybe even because of living in a den of thieves, Zidane was no stranger to cleanup duty. Depending on how disgusting headquarters got every week or so, and how many of Tantalus were lolling about waiting on jobs, there was about a one in nine chance of Baku getting fed up and turning over a few beds (or bodies where there weren't beds) until the bleary-eyed stragglers grudgingly got to work.
That said, Zidane's idea of "good enough" wasn't everyone's definition of "clean."
"Anyway, I'll see what I can do." Where the rake was concerned, he didn't have much optimism. From what he could see of it, the chain looked melded to the smaller metal tube between rake and handle, meaning he'd have to take the thing apart to get it free of the chain. He hoped their invisible observer (because the perverts always watched, he would know) didn't really expect them to work with such a limited form of tool. But he couldn't be certain until he got a closer look.
So in the meantime, a little chivalry wasn't out of place. Zidane only just remembered not to bend with his knees apart (regardless of what was ladylike or not), and rested one hand on them as he stooped. "Need a hand up?" he asked Terra, offering her the other.
[/LATE AS FUCK, sorry girls]