It's nice, her touch, and his fingers press into hers—even as slippery as they are, as little as there is to press into. He dislikes the worry that beats in his chest at what she might say, but then she mentions Blitzball, and it's like being passed a save. A way out.

He really shouldn't take it. He should talk to her about this thing being danced around, but:

"Who's been teaching you Blitzball?" Faux-accusatory, as if: Who's been teaching you that isn't me? "Wakka? The other guys?"

The Besaid Aurochs?