002

[fightforastar]

Who: Tifa and anyone
Where: Middle district shop
When: Afternoon
Style: I'll match
Status: Open!

Sometimes it was the little things that did it.

Tifa had done her best since her arrival to distract herself from the situation back home. There was nothing she could do about it until she found a way back, so worrying just wasn't practical. She'd volunteered almost immediately to help look for answers in that lab on the island. When she wasn't doing that, she'd had plenty of the bubble to explore and familiarize herself with. There'd been all the necessities of living to see to, people to talk to, and she'd even tried going to that ball last week.

She could feel it pressing on her, like something closing in out of the corner of her eye. It was pretty common for conversations to turn to home, or for people to bring up things that reminded her of it in spite of herself. The past few days had been the worst of it. Someone murdered, Rinoa's best friend disappearing...

But she'd forced everything out of her mind then, and she managed. It was the little things.

She was out shopping. As uncomfortable as it was taking things for free, she'd been here for weeks now and she could use more than a few changes of clothes. And there was one shirt, hung up in the wrong section, that looked so very much like Cloud's uniform.

That was all it was. Just a shirt. One stupid, unexpected little thing that made her think of him.

She didn't know where he was. Her whole world could be coming to an end, but what got to her the most was that her best friend was missing. Probably he was dead. And she didn't even know, maybe she never would know, if he was really Cloud or just some science experiment who'd tricked the both of them into thinking he was her childhood friend. She wouldn't know if it made a difference in how she felt.

She was crying before she realized it. Crying there in the middle of the store over some stupid shirt.

Comments

[fightforastar]

Tifa glances up at the voice, and then drops her gaze, perhaps more embarrassed to be seen by someone she knows than by strangers. Seeing the handkerchief only out of the corner of her eye, it takes her a moment to register it. Then she accepts it slowly and wipes her eyes.

"Thanks," she mumbles.

[aim_exorable]

"Think nothing of it." He keeps his hands to himself, pretending to inspect some of the clothing. No one wants to be seen at their weakest and most vulnerable, at least not with someone not close to them. He waits until she's done before he thinks it safe to speak again.

"Rough day?"

[fightforastar]

"Not at all." She sniffs, trying to get herself under control. She must look so pathetic, crying over nothing like this. It's not like anything has changed since she got here, and she was managing before now.

[aim_exorable]

A nod of his head. "I see." Translation: it's really none of his business and he won't poke. If she wanted to tell him, she would have. "Are you particularly busy right now, Miss Tifa?"

[fightforastar]

"No." She wipes at her eyes again and risks a glance up at him. "Did you need something?"

It would almost help if he did. It would give her something else to focus on.

[aim_exorable]

"Of a sort." He nods to the clothing. "You can finish up here if you would like to. I will go wait outside."

Besides a slight furrowing of his brows when he initially came upon her, Darkleer's expression is still patiently neutral so far even as he turns to leave.

[fightforastar]

Tifa nods and lets him go on. It takes her some minutes to calm herself down, and when she does eventually exit the store after him, her eyes are still red and a little glossy. She has the handkerchief in her hands, but isn't sure about the protocol for giving it back. It's pretty damp, after all.

She gives him a wavering smile. "Sorry about that."

[aim_exorable]

His waiting stance is much like that of a soldier's, told to wait at ease, but he seems to relax a bit once she appears. His head tilts at the apology. "It's just a handkerchief. I have more at home." Mostly used to clean the oil off his hands when he's working and less for tears, but still.

"Follow me." He sets off at a slow enough pace consider the length of his stride, and it eventually leads to a small out of the way cafe. There's an outdoor section filled with tables that Darkleer glances to, but then he says, "You can pick any seat you prefer. I am not considerably picky."

[fightforastar]

She wasn't apologizing for the handkerchief so much as for making a scene, but at that she gives a shrug. Apparently she can just keep it.

She follows him to the cafe and, after giving it a quick inspection, moves to the table farthest the entrance. "Here all right?"