FicWad

.Potion//023


Tifa pushed away from the oft used banister she had been leaning against with a sigh. The sun was setting and soon enough patrons would be appearing at her bar's doorstep. As such she had to compose herself. Had to look every part the strong and respectable bartender. Even when her heart wasn't in it.

Especially when her heart wasn't in it.

But now wasn't the time to be wondering or worrying or dwelling on might-have-beens. Tifa Lockheart was smarter than that. She was stronger than that, Cloud or no Cloud. And though part of her felt a deep and intense longing for that closeness the thought she had felt back when they were fighting together. Back when their lives depended on one another's actions - this was her life now.

She stepped back, resting against the wooden planks, half sitting. Gazed at this bar, her building. Her home. The world was safer now. The world was a better place. Sure there were hiccups here and there and sometimes things were a bit more trying, but those she knew now and future generations were safe. Were happy. She had been a part of something grand. She had helped ensure the survival of an entire world. Regular townsfolk had rejoiced when that giant glowing rock had ceased to be. Had cheered and called Tifa and her friends 'heroes.'

But she didn't feel very heroic. Not at that moment, anyway.

She didn't feel very heroic at all.

Perhaps this was what all the world's "great heroes" felt like when their quests finally ended. She pondered this a moment, brushing back a few strands of hair before placing a palm on the banister and staring at the sword emblazoned pattern of her bar's logo. Perhaps they returned to homes and families and it just wasn't the same/. They got restless. They reminisced about days that weren't at /all good ole; looked longingly at near death experiences and horrific, cackling villains. Did Yuffie feel this way returning to Wutai? Was Cid looking longingly at space and remembering how the stars glimmered when he was weightless and among them? What of Barret, working in the oil fields? Did Cloud -

She shook her head.

Oh, most certainly Cloud would have felt the same. Maybe not longing for a repeat of the past events but that feeling of restlessness. Of getting up and leaving for parts unknown. He had to relate in some ways. Minor ways even. But Tifa knew that even that point wouldn't bring him home. Cloud dealt with things in his own fashion and at his own speed. And this worked for him.

Even if it didn't work for her.

She sighed and stretched her arms high above her head. Maybe given time, things would feel more real. More like they had before she had become a part of Avalanche. In that haze of time in between nearly dying at Nibelheim and meeting Barret Wallace. Maybe she would fall into routine and make friends - live her life the way most people did. Wasn't that what they had fought for? The opportunity for everyone to lead happy and normal lives.

Everyone. Including herself.

She stepped forward, attempting to look determined. As if nothing could take her down - especially not herself and constant nagging worries and a strange longing in her heart for that which never really happened. For a relationship only existent in her deepest, most closely guarded secrets.

And nothing could compromise the mask that Tifa Lockheart was wearing and would continue to wear so long as she felt less than herself. The mask of a hero grasping life and pursuing the future that she herself had helped better. No bitterness. No resentment. Just herself.




Hours later the mask nearly slipped.

Or perhaps it nearly /broke/.

Strain. Pressure. Intense irritation. Rufus Shinra.

She hadn't forgotten. Hadn't. She had just gotten caught up in other things and before she knew it a certain promise three days in the making was coming to fruition. And really, Tifa Lockheart was, more often than not an optimist. And as such she hoped that he would have gotten the hint at some point. Perhaps found someone else to shower his attention onto.

As per usual, his appearance in her life was near-silent, and almost a surprise. It would have qualified as a real surprise had Tifa been the sort who was none too adept at reading small changes in atmosphere; in picking apart sounds that didn't belong.

Also there was the fact that her bar was clearing out. Patrons from Edge tended to respect her. They favored her drinks and her company and wished for her to stay in business. Willing. And thus when the time rolled around, depending on just how drunk they were, the crowd would leave. Occasionally a drunken brawl would ensue at some point. Maybe an argument would get out of hand or someone would have much too much, but generally things were calm.

Closing time rolled around on this esteemed day, like many of the others : without incident and leaving Tifa to handwash glasses that she didn't want to risk in the dishwasher. Quiet.

Peaceful.

And then she heard the clicking of footsteps entering her doorway.

The brunette didn't need to look up to know who it was. She had just enough information from the sound of his shoes hitting her hardwood floors to know what she needed. The sound wasn't muffled by any means - a cacophony that echoed slightly - a clicking. Not a thunking. This meant one thing - her intruder was wearing shoes not all too common among her everyday fare. Sure she occasionally got businessmen, but generally those in her bar wore sneakers or boots. These shoes sounded high class.

Then there was the way this person was walking.

Later on, it would be difficult for Tifa to entirely pinpoint exactly what it was that she picked apart from his gait. There was a sense of determination in his steps - of someone generally lacking patience. Of someone who got his way when he wanted it. His steps were forceful in a way. He was not light on his feet. At the same time he was moving at his own pace. The ambling pace of someone who ran his own life and damned if anyone else attempted to take the slightest bit of control.

She bit her lip slightly and shook her head, letting out a small chuckle that held no amusement. "I had hoped you would catch on and stop wasting our time, Mr. Shinra." She turned off the tap and dried her hands, raising her gaze up to see him standing in her bar, that ever-present smirk on his face.

She wanted nothing more than to wipe it clean off his face.

"I made a promise, Miss Lockheart." He continued walking as he had before - almost ambling, almost with a sense of purpose. Something about the way he was moving, the way he was looking at her, so resembled that panther she remembered from years ago - that beast he had kept as a pet. "I wouldn't want to go back on it."

"Oh, no. Of course not," Tifa monotoned as she straightened a row of martini glasses. What would it take to get rid of him for good? She knew Cloud could have easily done away with the man but... that train of thought was crossing the line and she knew it. It was childish and less than even remotely feasible. No matter how obnoxious he was.

Beside that fact, Tifa could more than handle herself. Especially against Rufus. She looked up at him through fallen bangs and saw him staring back, something all too smug and curious in his gaze. Then he smiled as if to say, "Aha! You know you want me." He was amused. Too amused.

"I trust you have had more than enough time to think upon my proposition." The amusement vanished in that moment, turning bored and slightly more business-like than it had been before. She partway wondered which side of this man was the true side, then realized that this was Rufus Shinra and she just didn't care.

Would getting rid of him really be enough? She fought the urge to crack her knuckles and show her displeasure in a more physical manner. Her master would have been disappointed in her actions both times she had encountered the man; would have told her that she was smarter, better than that. That violence should only be used as a last resort. And that there were better ways to down an opponent.

Narrowing her eyes in contemplation, Tifa glanced over the blond once again. Rufus Shinra was domineering, she would give him that. But it wasn't a physical presence, really. He didn't demand attention in a frightening, overpowering sense, and yet he still demanded attention nonetheless. Maybe this further explained the layers upon layers of white and black he seemed to wear every day, regardless of the weather - something to make him look bigger. More complex.

Like a lion. Some big, flamboyant cat.

His power was an intellectual power... coupled with his will and that omnipresent arrogance. All of this made up for what the shotgun couldn't. Rufus Shinra commanded respect in a crowd, most likely, because he simply thought - no, knew that he could.

His ego was one of his strongest facets. And it was also a weakness.

Rufus didn't have feelings for her. It was obvious. He had some sort of strange ulterior motive. He also must have thought himself that much smarter than Tifa. But Tifa wasn't stupid. And even if he, no doubt, had years of schooling over her basic levels of formal education, Tifa had a few tricks up her sleeve.

One doesn't work in a bar for that many years without learning a thing or two about human nature. About motives. About reading people. And thus Tifa came to this conclusion : Rufus Shinra had no feelings for her. He was interested in something else.

And she wanted to know what it was.

And she wanted to make sure he never got it.

But before she made sure of that, she wanted to let him think, if even for a split second, that he had won. Call it a lesson. He had it coming.

"Alright." Her voice rang through the silence but she somehow managed to belie no emotion in the simple one word response. It felt strange, though. Even after she had resigned herself to giving that answer, it still felt strange. It made her feel cheap to willingly give in like that; to know that in due time she would be dragged and toted around in public with the man. And it was sure to attract undo attention. People would begin to talk. There would be rumors. They were seen doing what /where/?

Even the thought of kissing him on the cheek almost made her stomach painfully clench. Him. Her.

...And what would Cloud think?

Would it bother him?

A smile spread across Tifa's face. A smile that should have warned Rufus that her plans were perhaps just as ill-intentioned as his. She turned around once more to stack a few cleaned and dried shot glasses. It wasn't that she thought Cloud would be jealous. She wouldn't really want him to be jealous. That would be petty and he was her friend before anything else. Still... it would be good incite on where exactly they stood.

Turning back, her bar now completely put together ready to be locked up for the night, Tifa met Rufus' gaze firmly. "You pick a time and place. You can have your little date."