The alphabet blocks don't break Balthier's ankle the second time he trips: they shatter his temper. He shouts until Fran meets his gaze. Her right ear turns away.
In the hollowness after rage, something ashamed stirs.
Gyro puts down her B to pat his bruised knee, stickily. Cam headbutts his shoulder, sneezes.
'…please. No toys on deck.'
Balthier stalls the engines when Cam chortles, Gyro shrieking her delight. Balthier turns.
All the blocks bob buoyantly, in chaos, Cam and Gyro windmilling too, ears and limbs churning like wings. Fran spins an F cube to where four other blocks hover--
f l o a t