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"The Rabanastre Chocobo Stables will be closed for a short period this afternoon. All staff and clients will be expected to remain off the property until the evening bell or further notice."
When the Queen sends orders that the stables be cleared for her visit, the stables are empty, except for one handler and the chocobo she's requested to see. The handler herself is a Viera, and the owner and trainer of a very fine piece of chocobo flesh that Ashe has had her eye on.
Ashe has little patience for polite formalities today. "Let's see how we'll he's progressed since the last time I've seen him. If I recall from the last time I'd seen him, he was still a touch spirited."
Fran, the handler, parades the advertised chocobo. He's male, a young adult, and (so the handler claims) of good breeding. The brown eyes speak of defiance—just a touch of "What are you putting me through"—but when Ashe examines him, he holds still, and when she runs her hands admiringly over his freshly groomed flank, he preens a little, causing his tail feathers to wiggle a little and his chest feathers to protrude further.
"He's certainly well-muscled." Ashe looks at the sleek lines of his body, "well-proportioned, too." She scratches his feathery crest, and then fingers the bright yellow tail-feathers.
Ashe also looks at his beak. The curve and point of his upper and lower beaks match up slightly less than center. It's his one flaw. "You say he's of good stock?"
"Archadian bred through and through."
"You say that as though it's a selling point." Ashe grabs at the flank of the chocobo, a little harder than he's used to, judging by his uneasy shifting. "Dalmascan chocobos are much of much better lineage. Yet, it must be said, he's taken my fancy."
Ashe procures a carrot and a clump of Gyshals. The chocobo nuzzles her in an attempt to get one of the treats. The carrot gets saved for later, if he performs satisfactorily; but she relinquishes the greens to the disapproving tsk of his handler.
"You will spoil him."
"How is he at riding now? Has he taken to the saddle?"
"For you, love? I'd let you ride me all around Ivalice. No saddle necessary."
Fran gives the wayward chocobo a sharp look, and a quick tap of her riding crop to both of his ankles. It's his mouthy nature that prevents this exchange from going through. "We have made progress on the saddle front. Have we not, Balthier?"
"Kweh."
"Show me."
Fran straps the saddle on to the chocobo, though as soon as she does, his placid demeanor holds becomes quite a bit more hostile. The moment Ashe takes the reigns and thinks to saddle up, the chocobo shakes his head and turns away in spite of his previous words of letting her ride him anywhere.
"What do you think?"
Ashe shakes her head and slaps the chocobo on his rear flank. "I believe he still needs to be trained further. See to it that he behaves better in the next session." The carrot remains for another day.
"Of course, your majesty. Balthier, come!"
The chocobo trots away with his handler; Ashe prepares to retreat to the palace and fantasize about the day she gets a well-trained choco-boy to play with.
*
Once they return to the Strahl, Balthier takes off the mask. "The queen was positively frigid today, Fran."
All Fran can do is unsympathetically examine her manicure. "If you were a better chocobo, then perhaps she would have been warmer." The saddle and bridle are already on the floor of the cabin to be polished and put away for another play session.
"Is another training session in order?" Balthier removes the tail feathers from his ass, and places that somewhere for later sterilization. The feathers that go around his wrists and ankles—they're not anatomically correct at all, but Fran vetoed his wearing the feathered briefs—and the feathered collar go off and get placed in their proper compartments.
Fran leans against the cabin wall. "As many as it takes until the queen is satisfied with your comportment."
"Then, I shall endeavor to be less contrary." Balthier puts on his trousers and shirt, completing the transformation from chocobo to sky-pirate.
If either of them believes that, their smiles don't indicate it.