Categories > Games > Final Fantasy 7 > What You Carry With You // What You Leave Behind
.War Gong/26
There were two main roads that led to Junon. One was a dusty path that was perhaps never truly an official'road' but rather one that had been worn away over the decades by those traveling either by foot or chocobo. It wasn't fancy or even all that helpful if not for being a good guide in the right direction, but it was a path and one that was taken often. The other was newer and spanned a greater distance, from Edge to Junon, even reaching Kalm and the old Midgar ruins. It was cleaner and far better equipped to handle the quickening barrage of cars and other newer vehicles that were being developed in mass quantities. One dirt, the other concrete. Despite these differences, the roads ran side by side in a strange sort of brotherhood -- one hearkening back to the poor infrastructure of Shinra's domination, the other a supposed testament to the unifying powers of the WRO.
Had Tifa Lockheart been in any logical state of mind, she would have perhaps thought about this fact as she spurred her black chocobo onward toward the continent's cape where the former Shinra base was located. She would have found it amusing how well things were going with Shinra's loss of power. She would have reveled in the fact that things had become a bit more peaceful and that once WRO started their major highway project, cities were connected better and communications had improved. But all she could think of was that package of roses and the way the bile had rose in the back of her throat.
Someone needed to put Rufus Shinra in his place. And as she saw the glint of buildings rising over the hill in front of her, she knew that it should be her. Tifa had tried being a decent human being. She had tried ignoring him. She had tried threatening him but it seemed to all be for naught. He wasn't going to back down. All that was left was to meet him head on and give him a piece of her mind.
A piece of her boot would probably suffice as well.
She gritted her teeth and pushed on while Altair warked quietly, her feathers bristling slightly in the cool kiss of a northbound wind. If the bird caught on to Tifa's state of being -- her rageful state of being, clearly it did not care. It moved forward, one talon laden foot after another climbing harsh terrain and mountainside with a grace common to its breed. Black, as well as gold chocobos were well known for their sure-footedness and Tifa had grown somewhat attached to this particular bird during Avalanche's quest to find and stop Sephiroth. Altair was perhaps one of the best behaved of the flock, calm and laid back but swift enough to race in the S class.
She also had the stamina to make it to Junon from Edge without needing to stop and rest. And when it came down to results, this was pivotal as Tifa wanted to get to Junon and back in as little time as possible. She trusted Marlene and Denzel back at the bar. That wasn't the problem. She just didn't want to give up any more time to Rufus Shinra. As it was he had been haunting her thoughts in the recent days. A quick "shove it," maybe a conversation with the Turks, or Reeve if he was around, and she would be on her way. She wanted to at least make it back before nightfall.
As the pair trudged through tall grasses over the final hill, anticipation and adrenaline spiked. The time was fast at hand. Tifa Lockheart was not going to be made a fool of for much longer. She could see the rusted cannon, the silhouette of tall structures in the sunlight. She wasn't altogether sure which building was the Shinra Estate, but it certainly couldn't be all that difficult to find. The Shinra family had never been subdued when it game to extravagance. And as she entered Junon proper and gazed upon the high, well guarded gates, she knew she had found her mark.
Somehow she figured she would have little trouble getting in to meet with Shinra. Especially when she saw a familiar figure making his way toward the front entrance.
Bluntly put, the room was a mess.
But not a single person was about to admit that truth.
The relatively spacious home office was overrun with mountains of paperwork and files, including everything from blueprints to status reports. One would perhaps even say that the stacks were cluttered if not for the seemingly graceful way in which they were stacked amongst pristine cherry-wood furniture, stacked because there was simply no place else for them to go. After all, the ghost of the Shinra tower still stood in what remained of Midgar, looming over deserted dreams and the homeless who still clung to that small piece of broken land. It was a reminder of that which had passed. A symbol of sorts, but no longer a real city. This left Rufus Shinra with few options of what venue from which to work.
Working from his family's old mansion, however, was much more desirable than working at Healing. That much was certain.
Leaning back in his seat, pen twirling in hand, the president considered the forms in front of him. He could feel exhaustion slowly closing in, the slight, persistent nagging of a headache's beginning somewhere behind his eyes. Paperwork. Piles of it had been processed over the course of the day and there was still more; a never ending flood of words and lines needing his signature. Lately there had been reports concerning Corel's oil fields, a name cropping up every once in a while that made the corners of his lips smirk in recollection. He could remember once upon a time a large bear of a man who was to be executed. But that was ages ago and now here he sat, halfway crippled body in a halfway crippled company, dealing with Barret Wallace on a professional level. It was laughable, and yet Rufus Shinra didn't see altogether that much humor in the situation. It was mostly just irony. The world needed help. They needed power. Electricity. And this was just another means by which to get it.
It helped greatly that Tuesti was there to deal with Wallace in case things went sour, but Rufus knew that he had to deal with the man. In the very least he had to pretend that he didn't see him as some sort of lesser life form. As much as it pained him, this had become his mission, after all. The purpose of him rebuilding the company. Now, more than ever, Rufus had something to prove to the world.
There was more to this President Shinra then what they were led to believe.
The ringing of his phone -- a newer model PHS, brought Rufus back to the confines of reality, before he had even realized he was staring at golds and oranges that filtered in through the window, telltale signs of sunset. With a sigh and a flick of the wrist, the phone was popped open and he was leaning against the worn leather of his swivel chair once more. "Yes."
"Tseng here." The man cleared his throat a little, obviously hiding some emotion that Rufus was unable to read. "There is a visitor waiting in the foyer. She wishes to meet with you and discuss some... matters."
Rufus slouched further into the chair, running his fingers through his bangs in slight annoyance. He couldn't recall anyone scheduling in a meeting and he wasn't in the mood for sudden, unannounced visitors. At the same time, however, Tseng had always been trustworthy and never one to idly waste his time. This would have to be an important matter for him to let someone in. Somewhat important at least. He sighed. "What kind of matters could they possibly be?"
The man chuckled softly under his breath, an action that was barely noticeable and a little unsettling. "I suppose you will see when you arrive, sir. Or should I turn her away?" But Rufus was already pulling himself to his feet, slipping the signature white coat over his shoulders and slowly making his way across the room. Muscles and bones ached slightly from the exertion of sudden movement after hours spent motionless, but he shook it off and turned the brass doorknob.
In retrospect, Rufus should have had some idea who the individual was who decided to pay him a visit. His actions would most likely be seen as nothing less than harassing. And, despite how amusing it was attempting to woo someone who nothing short of hated him, Rufus wasn't about to sugar coat his actions. He could get anything he wanted if he worked hard enough for it and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to prove to himself that even someone as slippery and rightfully resentful as Tifa Lockheart could be had at some price.
She could also probably help his image out.
It was obvious to anyone in the near proximity that this little game of his was in no way innocent. And, if one really thought about the situation the corporate mogul was taking, they would also perhaps remember exactly who Tifa Lockheart was, and what she was skilled at. And perhaps that was Rufus Shinra's first error : Forgetting for a second who it was he was dealing with.
When he spied Tifa Lockheart on a plush chair, smiling lightly as she made small talk with Tseng, he slowed his pace, leaning briefly against the wall to watch her movements through the doorway. She seemed slightly more at ease than the last time he had seen her at the bar, dark hair hanging over a shoulder and a pleasant smile lightly upon her lips. At the same time, the tenseness in her shoulders was also noticeable, particularly as Tseng stepped aside, answering a call on his cell phone. Lockheart leaned back slightly, palm pressed upon white leather, waiting.
It was but a few seconds later when Rufus Shinra pushed off of the wall and made his second mistake.
As quietly as he had come down the stairs, he breezed through the doorway and behind the woman, amusement growing as she seemed to not notice his presence. He reached forward, swiftly yet silently, a cool hand upon a warm, bare shoulder.
"Miss Lockheart."
His grin threatened to turn grimace. It only took a split second for her to react from that cold touch. The woman had whipped around and grabbed his wrist in a vice-grip, thumb pressed against veins, squeezing as if to disarm. Rufus worked his best not to react to the pain of her grip, the dangerous look present in her mahogany eyes. He breathed in, then out slowly through his nose, quirking a grin as best as possible.
"Mister Shinra." A smile spread across her face but it was clear that there was no friendliness upon her features. She squeezed his wrist for added effect and then let go forcefully.
"Please. Call me Rufus." He paused, then shook his hand lightly and continued. "Now, is this any way to say thank you? Roses are so hard to come by in this area."
"I know full well what you are up to and you can stop this little game, Shinra." She ground out his last name, jaws clenched in a threatening rage that matched the state of her knuckles.
"I don't play games." His gaze was serious, boring into her own with as little emotion as possible and it occurred to Tifa that there was little feeling behind the smirk on his face. "When I want something, I go for it." He flicked back a pesky lock of blond and leveled a look of boyish playfulness at the woman. "I am just... being true to myself. You, on the other hand... you only think that you despise me."
And that was, perhaps, his third mistake of the night.
In a flash of movement, she was on him. On him, but not in the way Rufus Shinra would have preferred. Hands bunched and wound around the front of his button down shirt, Tifa Lockheart launched herself forward slamming the president into the wall with a thud that almost seemed to make the walls shake. Rufus couldn't help but let out a small grunt as his head followed suit, likewise striking the wall hard enough to daze him, legs scrambling painfully to gain footing.
"Do not presume to know what I am thinking, Shinra," a voice growled out with scorching malice as the small woman ground him further up against the wall, only to stop abruptly, her white knuckled grip letting go and leaving the executive propped up against the wall.
Tifa wasn't entirely sure what had come over her when Rufus Shinra had said those words. In retrospect, she wouldn't find them to be entirely that incendiary. Perhaps it was the ego altogether so present behind them, driving the words forward as if to challenge. Tifa Lockheart had always striven to be true to herself. The thought of Rufus Shinra claiming as such almost undermined her own way of life. The man was a liar. He was selfish. And above all else, in her eyes he was beyond the realm of the despised.
And so she had snapped then and there. While she had jokingly thought to herself that there were plenty of ways to drive home her point, physically and verbally, she hadn't for a moment considered the idea that she would drive him into the wall as such. And yet there she was, fuming and spitting acid, feeling all the while like some sort of hypocrite. So much for taking the high road. Before she had even gotten the chance to back down herself, however, she had felt something cold and metallic against her neck. It was a familiar feeling -- a feeling that made her body stiffen. The barrel of a gun, the cocking hammer.
Tseng.
"Tifa Lockheart, please stand down or I will be forced to take drastic measures."
The voice was smooth and calm, a voice that all to well matched its owner. Tifa had forgotten the Turk was there once his phone had rung and he had wandered away. By the time Shinra had appeared, he was completely out of her thoughts. Tseng had sworn loyalty to the company, to the man in front of her and Tifa had little doubt when he said that he would use force to protect the president.
Stepping back, booted foot altogether too loud against the elegant hardwood floor and the backdrop of silence, she looked to the tall Wutaian man before her, nodding slightly as he holstered his gun again, making a move to help the president, but stopping when the man shook his head and pulled himself gingerly to his feet himself.
"Hey..." the man ground out, still pressed against the wall and leaning heavily on his right let. "You know..."
Tifa straightened her stance, folding her arms in front of her chest and staring him down. "What?"
"I have a proposition for you."
With a roll of her eyes, she turned in one deft motion toward the door. "You know my answer to whatever you--"
"Unacceptable. You haven't even heard the stipulations yet." He moved to follow her slowly, something unreadable glinting in his eyes. He then stopped and uttered two words : "One day."
She sighed and turned slightly, glaring from the corner of her eye. "What do you mean, one day? ...This game is tiring. I have to go home and you have wasted /enough/--"
"Spend one day with me. We can do... whatever, but I will show you the time of your life."
A small laugh trickled through the air, sardonic and frightening coming from the small yet deadly woman. It punctuating her words. "And if you are... unable to... perform to these expectations?"
"Then I promise on the good will of my company that I will leave you alone from now on." He paused, seemingly waiting for her response, but then cutting her off again, "However, I do not want an answer now. Three days. You will say yes."
With a sigh, Tifa Lockheart pulled her coat from its spot by the door. "I already have my answer and it isn't going to change between now and then. Good evening to you, Tseng." With a nod she was out the door.
Silence spread out upon the room, both men staring at the place through which Tifa Lockheart had exited. After a few seconds, the moment passed and Rufus rubbed the back of his head ambling forward to a nearby chair, limp now more pronounced with the woman's departure. He plopped down unceremoniously and let out a small, gruff sigh.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but that didn't quite go so well." Tseng quirked a small grin toward the young president before taking the seat across from him and leaning back languidly.
"She's going to say yes." He shot him a look of extreme conviction.
"I haven't the slightest clue how anyone would think otherwise. You have always had such a way with women..."
"I am not one to be denied."
"I promise you, sir. I shall wait on the edge of my seat."
Somehow, return trips always seemed to go by faster than their counterparts. At least that was the way it seemed to Tifa. Over mountains and past forests and meadows with the glow of a rising moon, this trip weighed down on her with far less force. She doubted that anything had really been accomplished, but she hoped that Rufus Shinra would think twice before bothering her again. As she passed the sign that welcomed her to Edge a sigh of relief escaped parted lips. Altair pushed forward, tired but also happy to be in familiar territory. As soon as they had reached the Seventh Heaven, the bird would be let go, allowing it to return to the Farm that was but a few minutes away by foot.
Despite everything that had happened, Tifa was home. It dawned on her that she might even have time to open the bar that night. She could see the top
of her home's roof over the distance. The porch and stairs. The sign.
And then she saw something that nearly threw her off Altair's back. Something she hadn't seen in weeks.
Sure, there were plenty of motorcycles in Edge. Some perhaps of the same make and model. But as she jumped from the chocobo and patted its feathers in farewell, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who this particular vehicle belonged to. And as she approached the motorcycle, bending forward and touching metal and plastic to her fingertips she couldn't help but smile, warm and genuine as the name escaped into a growing twilight and she looked up to see an all-familiar silhouette looking out at her from the porch.
"Cloud..."
There were two main roads that led to Junon. One was a dusty path that was perhaps never truly an official'road' but rather one that had been worn away over the decades by those traveling either by foot or chocobo. It wasn't fancy or even all that helpful if not for being a good guide in the right direction, but it was a path and one that was taken often. The other was newer and spanned a greater distance, from Edge to Junon, even reaching Kalm and the old Midgar ruins. It was cleaner and far better equipped to handle the quickening barrage of cars and other newer vehicles that were being developed in mass quantities. One dirt, the other concrete. Despite these differences, the roads ran side by side in a strange sort of brotherhood -- one hearkening back to the poor infrastructure of Shinra's domination, the other a supposed testament to the unifying powers of the WRO.
Had Tifa Lockheart been in any logical state of mind, she would have perhaps thought about this fact as she spurred her black chocobo onward toward the continent's cape where the former Shinra base was located. She would have found it amusing how well things were going with Shinra's loss of power. She would have reveled in the fact that things had become a bit more peaceful and that once WRO started their major highway project, cities were connected better and communications had improved. But all she could think of was that package of roses and the way the bile had rose in the back of her throat.
Someone needed to put Rufus Shinra in his place. And as she saw the glint of buildings rising over the hill in front of her, she knew that it should be her. Tifa had tried being a decent human being. She had tried ignoring him. She had tried threatening him but it seemed to all be for naught. He wasn't going to back down. All that was left was to meet him head on and give him a piece of her mind.
A piece of her boot would probably suffice as well.
She gritted her teeth and pushed on while Altair warked quietly, her feathers bristling slightly in the cool kiss of a northbound wind. If the bird caught on to Tifa's state of being -- her rageful state of being, clearly it did not care. It moved forward, one talon laden foot after another climbing harsh terrain and mountainside with a grace common to its breed. Black, as well as gold chocobos were well known for their sure-footedness and Tifa had grown somewhat attached to this particular bird during Avalanche's quest to find and stop Sephiroth. Altair was perhaps one of the best behaved of the flock, calm and laid back but swift enough to race in the S class.
She also had the stamina to make it to Junon from Edge without needing to stop and rest. And when it came down to results, this was pivotal as Tifa wanted to get to Junon and back in as little time as possible. She trusted Marlene and Denzel back at the bar. That wasn't the problem. She just didn't want to give up any more time to Rufus Shinra. As it was he had been haunting her thoughts in the recent days. A quick "shove it," maybe a conversation with the Turks, or Reeve if he was around, and she would be on her way. She wanted to at least make it back before nightfall.
As the pair trudged through tall grasses over the final hill, anticipation and adrenaline spiked. The time was fast at hand. Tifa Lockheart was not going to be made a fool of for much longer. She could see the rusted cannon, the silhouette of tall structures in the sunlight. She wasn't altogether sure which building was the Shinra Estate, but it certainly couldn't be all that difficult to find. The Shinra family had never been subdued when it game to extravagance. And as she entered Junon proper and gazed upon the high, well guarded gates, she knew she had found her mark.
Somehow she figured she would have little trouble getting in to meet with Shinra. Especially when she saw a familiar figure making his way toward the front entrance.
Bluntly put, the room was a mess.
But not a single person was about to admit that truth.
The relatively spacious home office was overrun with mountains of paperwork and files, including everything from blueprints to status reports. One would perhaps even say that the stacks were cluttered if not for the seemingly graceful way in which they were stacked amongst pristine cherry-wood furniture, stacked because there was simply no place else for them to go. After all, the ghost of the Shinra tower still stood in what remained of Midgar, looming over deserted dreams and the homeless who still clung to that small piece of broken land. It was a reminder of that which had passed. A symbol of sorts, but no longer a real city. This left Rufus Shinra with few options of what venue from which to work.
Working from his family's old mansion, however, was much more desirable than working at Healing. That much was certain.
Leaning back in his seat, pen twirling in hand, the president considered the forms in front of him. He could feel exhaustion slowly closing in, the slight, persistent nagging of a headache's beginning somewhere behind his eyes. Paperwork. Piles of it had been processed over the course of the day and there was still more; a never ending flood of words and lines needing his signature. Lately there had been reports concerning Corel's oil fields, a name cropping up every once in a while that made the corners of his lips smirk in recollection. He could remember once upon a time a large bear of a man who was to be executed. But that was ages ago and now here he sat, halfway crippled body in a halfway crippled company, dealing with Barret Wallace on a professional level. It was laughable, and yet Rufus Shinra didn't see altogether that much humor in the situation. It was mostly just irony. The world needed help. They needed power. Electricity. And this was just another means by which to get it.
It helped greatly that Tuesti was there to deal with Wallace in case things went sour, but Rufus knew that he had to deal with the man. In the very least he had to pretend that he didn't see him as some sort of lesser life form. As much as it pained him, this had become his mission, after all. The purpose of him rebuilding the company. Now, more than ever, Rufus had something to prove to the world.
There was more to this President Shinra then what they were led to believe.
The ringing of his phone -- a newer model PHS, brought Rufus back to the confines of reality, before he had even realized he was staring at golds and oranges that filtered in through the window, telltale signs of sunset. With a sigh and a flick of the wrist, the phone was popped open and he was leaning against the worn leather of his swivel chair once more. "Yes."
"Tseng here." The man cleared his throat a little, obviously hiding some emotion that Rufus was unable to read. "There is a visitor waiting in the foyer. She wishes to meet with you and discuss some... matters."
Rufus slouched further into the chair, running his fingers through his bangs in slight annoyance. He couldn't recall anyone scheduling in a meeting and he wasn't in the mood for sudden, unannounced visitors. At the same time, however, Tseng had always been trustworthy and never one to idly waste his time. This would have to be an important matter for him to let someone in. Somewhat important at least. He sighed. "What kind of matters could they possibly be?"
The man chuckled softly under his breath, an action that was barely noticeable and a little unsettling. "I suppose you will see when you arrive, sir. Or should I turn her away?" But Rufus was already pulling himself to his feet, slipping the signature white coat over his shoulders and slowly making his way across the room. Muscles and bones ached slightly from the exertion of sudden movement after hours spent motionless, but he shook it off and turned the brass doorknob.
In retrospect, Rufus should have had some idea who the individual was who decided to pay him a visit. His actions would most likely be seen as nothing less than harassing. And, despite how amusing it was attempting to woo someone who nothing short of hated him, Rufus wasn't about to sugar coat his actions. He could get anything he wanted if he worked hard enough for it and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to prove to himself that even someone as slippery and rightfully resentful as Tifa Lockheart could be had at some price.
She could also probably help his image out.
It was obvious to anyone in the near proximity that this little game of his was in no way innocent. And, if one really thought about the situation the corporate mogul was taking, they would also perhaps remember exactly who Tifa Lockheart was, and what she was skilled at. And perhaps that was Rufus Shinra's first error : Forgetting for a second who it was he was dealing with.
When he spied Tifa Lockheart on a plush chair, smiling lightly as she made small talk with Tseng, he slowed his pace, leaning briefly against the wall to watch her movements through the doorway. She seemed slightly more at ease than the last time he had seen her at the bar, dark hair hanging over a shoulder and a pleasant smile lightly upon her lips. At the same time, the tenseness in her shoulders was also noticeable, particularly as Tseng stepped aside, answering a call on his cell phone. Lockheart leaned back slightly, palm pressed upon white leather, waiting.
It was but a few seconds later when Rufus Shinra pushed off of the wall and made his second mistake.
As quietly as he had come down the stairs, he breezed through the doorway and behind the woman, amusement growing as she seemed to not notice his presence. He reached forward, swiftly yet silently, a cool hand upon a warm, bare shoulder.
"Miss Lockheart."
His grin threatened to turn grimace. It only took a split second for her to react from that cold touch. The woman had whipped around and grabbed his wrist in a vice-grip, thumb pressed against veins, squeezing as if to disarm. Rufus worked his best not to react to the pain of her grip, the dangerous look present in her mahogany eyes. He breathed in, then out slowly through his nose, quirking a grin as best as possible.
"Mister Shinra." A smile spread across her face but it was clear that there was no friendliness upon her features. She squeezed his wrist for added effect and then let go forcefully.
"Please. Call me Rufus." He paused, then shook his hand lightly and continued. "Now, is this any way to say thank you? Roses are so hard to come by in this area."
"I know full well what you are up to and you can stop this little game, Shinra." She ground out his last name, jaws clenched in a threatening rage that matched the state of her knuckles.
"I don't play games." His gaze was serious, boring into her own with as little emotion as possible and it occurred to Tifa that there was little feeling behind the smirk on his face. "When I want something, I go for it." He flicked back a pesky lock of blond and leveled a look of boyish playfulness at the woman. "I am just... being true to myself. You, on the other hand... you only think that you despise me."
And that was, perhaps, his third mistake of the night.
In a flash of movement, she was on him. On him, but not in the way Rufus Shinra would have preferred. Hands bunched and wound around the front of his button down shirt, Tifa Lockheart launched herself forward slamming the president into the wall with a thud that almost seemed to make the walls shake. Rufus couldn't help but let out a small grunt as his head followed suit, likewise striking the wall hard enough to daze him, legs scrambling painfully to gain footing.
"Do not presume to know what I am thinking, Shinra," a voice growled out with scorching malice as the small woman ground him further up against the wall, only to stop abruptly, her white knuckled grip letting go and leaving the executive propped up against the wall.
Tifa wasn't entirely sure what had come over her when Rufus Shinra had said those words. In retrospect, she wouldn't find them to be entirely that incendiary. Perhaps it was the ego altogether so present behind them, driving the words forward as if to challenge. Tifa Lockheart had always striven to be true to herself. The thought of Rufus Shinra claiming as such almost undermined her own way of life. The man was a liar. He was selfish. And above all else, in her eyes he was beyond the realm of the despised.
And so she had snapped then and there. While she had jokingly thought to herself that there were plenty of ways to drive home her point, physically and verbally, she hadn't for a moment considered the idea that she would drive him into the wall as such. And yet there she was, fuming and spitting acid, feeling all the while like some sort of hypocrite. So much for taking the high road. Before she had even gotten the chance to back down herself, however, she had felt something cold and metallic against her neck. It was a familiar feeling -- a feeling that made her body stiffen. The barrel of a gun, the cocking hammer.
Tseng.
"Tifa Lockheart, please stand down or I will be forced to take drastic measures."
The voice was smooth and calm, a voice that all to well matched its owner. Tifa had forgotten the Turk was there once his phone had rung and he had wandered away. By the time Shinra had appeared, he was completely out of her thoughts. Tseng had sworn loyalty to the company, to the man in front of her and Tifa had little doubt when he said that he would use force to protect the president.
Stepping back, booted foot altogether too loud against the elegant hardwood floor and the backdrop of silence, she looked to the tall Wutaian man before her, nodding slightly as he holstered his gun again, making a move to help the president, but stopping when the man shook his head and pulled himself gingerly to his feet himself.
"Hey..." the man ground out, still pressed against the wall and leaning heavily on his right let. "You know..."
Tifa straightened her stance, folding her arms in front of her chest and staring him down. "What?"
"I have a proposition for you."
With a roll of her eyes, she turned in one deft motion toward the door. "You know my answer to whatever you--"
"Unacceptable. You haven't even heard the stipulations yet." He moved to follow her slowly, something unreadable glinting in his eyes. He then stopped and uttered two words : "One day."
She sighed and turned slightly, glaring from the corner of her eye. "What do you mean, one day? ...This game is tiring. I have to go home and you have wasted /enough/--"
"Spend one day with me. We can do... whatever, but I will show you the time of your life."
A small laugh trickled through the air, sardonic and frightening coming from the small yet deadly woman. It punctuating her words. "And if you are... unable to... perform to these expectations?"
"Then I promise on the good will of my company that I will leave you alone from now on." He paused, seemingly waiting for her response, but then cutting her off again, "However, I do not want an answer now. Three days. You will say yes."
With a sigh, Tifa Lockheart pulled her coat from its spot by the door. "I already have my answer and it isn't going to change between now and then. Good evening to you, Tseng." With a nod she was out the door.
Silence spread out upon the room, both men staring at the place through which Tifa Lockheart had exited. After a few seconds, the moment passed and Rufus rubbed the back of his head ambling forward to a nearby chair, limp now more pronounced with the woman's departure. He plopped down unceremoniously and let out a small, gruff sigh.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but that didn't quite go so well." Tseng quirked a small grin toward the young president before taking the seat across from him and leaning back languidly.
"She's going to say yes." He shot him a look of extreme conviction.
"I haven't the slightest clue how anyone would think otherwise. You have always had such a way with women..."
"I am not one to be denied."
"I promise you, sir. I shall wait on the edge of my seat."
Somehow, return trips always seemed to go by faster than their counterparts. At least that was the way it seemed to Tifa. Over mountains and past forests and meadows with the glow of a rising moon, this trip weighed down on her with far less force. She doubted that anything had really been accomplished, but she hoped that Rufus Shinra would think twice before bothering her again. As she passed the sign that welcomed her to Edge a sigh of relief escaped parted lips. Altair pushed forward, tired but also happy to be in familiar territory. As soon as they had reached the Seventh Heaven, the bird would be let go, allowing it to return to the Farm that was but a few minutes away by foot.
Despite everything that had happened, Tifa was home. It dawned on her that she might even have time to open the bar that night. She could see the top
of her home's roof over the distance. The porch and stairs. The sign.
And then she saw something that nearly threw her off Altair's back. Something she hadn't seen in weeks.
Sure, there were plenty of motorcycles in Edge. Some perhaps of the same make and model. But as she jumped from the chocobo and patted its feathers in farewell, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who this particular vehicle belonged to. And as she approached the motorcycle, bending forward and touching metal and plastic to her fingertips she couldn't help but smile, warm and genuine as the name escaped into a growing twilight and she looked up to see an all-familiar silhouette looking out at her from the porch.
"Cloud..."
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