Smoke poured out of the chamber like a raging forest fire, when it was in fact simply steam being used to give the massive ship power. The smoke gathered in large black clouds before whisking away from the ship and onto the rest of Gaia. Though it seemed very polluting to the environment, in truth it was one of the most efficient and environment-safe airships in existence. The giant container of steam and smoke had been purposely put in the bottom of the ship so as not to create a giant disturbance to the passengers, though one at this point in time was willing to bear with the discomfort.
Quina looked at the roasting meat, drool dropping from his gargantuan tongue. He had taken several raw pieces of meat from the Alexandrian kitchen, and after deciding they tasted horrible raw, he had seen it being cooked over open flame. He had looked curiously at it, and after hearing about the Invincible, he had remembered the fire and the light bulb had gone on in his head. He had scampered to the furnace as quickly as he could get there, and had thrown the beef on as soon as Baku had fired it up. His first piece, however, had been torched in a blaze instantly. Quina had the hint that the furnace was very hot, so he placed the second piece on the bricks outside the furnace, where they cooked in just a few minutes. He had been left alone for this operation, and presently he was alone save Zidane. He saw how depressed the King was, and despite Garnet’s words of advice, he hopped over to him on the banister.
“What wrong, Zidane? You look sad.” He said, cocking his friend in confusion.
Zidane looked over to his blubbery, pale-white friend. “Oh, it’s nothing, Quina.”
“No look like nothing.”
Zidane chuckled. “Yeah, that’s right. It is something, but it ain’t anything I want to bother you with, Quina.”
“But us friends. We help each other in time need.”
Zidane gazed into the sky, seemingly debating something in his head. Finally he turned to Quina. “Alright, Quina, imagine Quale.”
“No problem.” Quina immediately got a
mental picture of his master in his head.
Zidane nodded. “Good. Now picture
Quale doing something really bad.”
Quina imagined Quale breaking into his private food hoard and eating everything. “Okay, now what?”
“Now imagine that you forgave him for doing that, but then a couple of years ago you found that he was doing the exact same thing.”
Quina grimaced. “Oooh...Me not happy.”
Zidane nodded. “Exactly. Now I don’t know if I’m supposed to be mad at Kuja, or nice, or...” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “It’s all just so confusing. I really thought that he had changed when I last saw him at the Lifa Tree, but...”
Quina stared at him, not somewhat lost in what was being said. “Well, if him important to you, must not let be bad again.”
The King glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well...” Quina stuttered for a bit, searching for the right words. “If Kuja friend, you can’t let him do bad things. Show him good things. Like good food.” Quina patted his immense belly to emphasize the point.
A moment of silence ensued, with Zidane trying to sort out what Quina had said. Finally he nodded, as if having reached a conclusion. “You’re right, Quina. If this is him, then I just have to stop it and show him that it’s not the good thing to do.”
Quina clapped his hands together. “Good! Show him good food!” He said, grinning.
Zidane hopped onto the steps and hurriedly climbed up them, eager to tell Garnet and the others about his new revelation. Quina simply meandered back to his meat, which was just beginning to brown.