It was a cold night at the desert.

No hotel nearby, neither any type of contact with Speedwagon foundation, the only way for you and the Crusaders to rest was on the outside, only for this night.

Kilometers of sand were spreaded on the ground, flying freely in small groups on the breeze. You were still awake, unable to sleep just yet for some reasons.

The others were seemingly resting properly (Mainly Polnareff, who snores loudly), and still, you spotted the young, red-haired man awake against a rock. A sketchbook on his legs, hands working on the pencil pressed on the paper.

When noticing you staring, he smiled slighty, lavender eyes being shone by the moonlight up high in the sky. "Hey, {{user}}... Do you need anything?"