Ways to Cope [Active//Closed]
Characters: Tifa, Loz, Yazoo
Content: Yazoo goes to collect his brother at Tifa's... err... request.
Location: Tifa's Seventh Heaven, formerly Pete's Tavern
Time of day: late evening, after the bar closes for the day
Warnings: Guns? Maybe some snark?
( Why did Loz keep going back to her? )
Content: Yazoo goes to collect his brother at Tifa's... err... request.
Location: Tifa's Seventh Heaven, formerly Pete's Tavern
Time of day: late evening, after the bar closes for the day
Warnings: Guns? Maybe some snark?
( Why did Loz keep going back to her? )
Loz didn't hear the knock at the door over the running water, but he'd shut it off by the time Tifa called out. His hands went still for a moment as he dried the one of the last glasses, and he swallowed, but he quickly finished the glass in his hands and left the last few in the drying rack. "Yeah," he called back, a little subdued, as he set the dry glass on the shelf and tossed the towel next to the sink.
Only that left him without anything to do with his hands as he came out to meet Yazoo, whom he was certain wouln't be pleased. He tried to casually do nothing with his hands, only the minute he had to think about it, it wasn't casual any more. So he walked out of the kitchen with a more stiff set to his shoulders than he'd hoped, and kept his eyes downcast, raising them only briefly to greet his brother.
As he'd suspected, Yazoo didn't look to be in a particularly good mood. Though that might've had something to do with the gun pointed at him. "Hey," Loz muttered, partly in greeting and partly in consternation, frowning at the shotgun.
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A moment later Loz appeared from the back room, wearing that slightly guilty expression he tended to get when he knew he was in trouble. Yazoo wanted to hit him for it -- he wanted to put Loz through a table or two, start a good fight, work things out -- but he couldn't, and it had nothing to do with the fact that there was a shotgun aimed at him.
"Hey," Loz said, and Yazoo made a little sound that was clearly acknowledgment. He looked at Loz's hands, slightly wrinkled from being in water too long -- he'd been doing dishes, hadn't he?
Like there weren't dishes to do back at the hotel.
Yazoo considered his brother for a moment, ignoring the gun still leveled at him. He gave Loz a look -- we'll talk about this later -- and asked evenly, "Did you finish?" He shifted, crossed his arms, and elaborated. "The dishes. If they're not done, go finish them." Yazoo glanced aside at the woman, addressing her when he spoke again. "You and I need to talk."
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Her eyes narrowed at Yazoo's words and she interrupted before he could go on.
"No. No, we don't need to talk if what you're going to say is about how you're going to tear me apart and stuff my limbs for decorations on your wall and use my intestines for party streamers, because I've heard it all before and frankly? It's getting boring as hell. And no, I don't think you really are going to tear me apart, because like it or not you and I have too many connections that you'd screw up if you killed me, and you know it. Not to mention the fact that the last time we fought it was to a quick, straight draw and that was after I'd been choked, so you know what? I don't really think you could. Which means all your intimidating is just empty threats, and forgive me the near-compliment, but I think that's beneath you.
"Furthermore, you don't get to give orders in my bar. If you want to talk, you will ask me to talk, and I will agree to do so only in a place that's away from my home and my family. And while we're on the topic of home and family, no, I didn't invite your brother here or encourage him to come." Never mind their recent fight--that had been well away from the bar, neutral territory for both of them. "But since he insisted on being here and wouldn't leave, I gave him something to do that didn't involve destroying my bar. If you have a problem with that, you need to talk to him and not me."
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The entrance to the kitchen wasn't really that far away, and looked quite inviting under this onslaught. He took another few steps back, because Tifa was clearly talking to Yazoo now. "I'll just... finish up putting things away," he mumbled, attempting to retreat.
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The really galling thing, though, was that she was right. His threats were empty -- and she had him figured out, more than he'd realized. That scared him a little.
Yazoo licked his lips, considering. His hands flexed at his sides -- the only outward indication of just how much he would have liked to be holding Velvet Nightmare right now. He flicked a gaze at Loz, letting his brother know that it was alright, that he could go -- though a part of him wondered why Loz seemed to want to run rather than fight. Granted, words were not his strong point, but...
"I know you didn't invite him." Though Yazoo was speaking to Tifa, he kept his eyes fixed on Loz. His gaze was carefully impassive, almost cold. "But that's not what I wanted to talk about." Only now did Yazoo turn to look at the young woman. He exhaled heavily, and it wasn't quite a sigh. "You're right -- we're connected, whether we like it or not. We... we shouldn't be fighting, not like this."
Yazoo paused, unsure if he wanted to continue. It grated on his nerves just thinking about what he was considering. But it might be for the best -- and more importantly, he felt somehow that it would make things easier between him and Loz.
"Can we agree to a truce?" he asked at length, extending a hand in silent appeal. "Loz and I won't cause any more trouble for you and your... family. We'll be civil. In return, we get to drink here like everyone else, and you stop pointing that shotgun at me. Does that sound fair?"
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When she was done with what she had to say she waited through Yazoo's silence, seeing him flex his hands and tightening hers slightly on the gun in instinctive response. This was the moment when the scales would tip one way or the other...would he attack or would he back off? If he forced her to shoot him she would have to shoot Loz, too, she was certain. Tifa really didn't want to kill either of them, but she'd do it if she had to. Whatever happened now, she knew that she'd been right to say what she had. She was as good as dead already if she let Yazoo go on thinking he had her where he wanted her.
His next words, though, were entirely unexpected. To threaten some more, to bluster, to ignore her and leave, those were the reactions she expected--not agreement. Not an offer of peace.
She hesitated for a moment, eyeing the hand he'd offered, but she thought he was sincere, at least for now. And though she still didn't particularly want him in her bar (Loz's presence she was beginning to accept as an inevitability), some compromises had to be made for the sake of peace.
"Fair," she agreed, finally lowering the shotgun and extending her hand to grip his. She did so firmly, shook once and let go. "But if you want to drink, you'll have to come during open hours."
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He nearly dropped the glass he was holding when Yazoo offered a truce. His brother was putting into words things that Loz had only dimly thought and had taken for granted - but that always seemed to be how it was...
It took entirely too little time to dry the last couple of glasses and put them on the shelf, and he could hear every word they said. And some of the dread lifted, because none of it was as bad as he'd feared.
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And now he wouldn't have to wonder so much about where Loz was going at night.
"Fine," he agreed, nodding once at the condition -- that they come only during regular hours if they wanted to be served. Yazoo regarded the woman for several seconds, remembering how she'd fought him and silently appreciating the strength of her grip. He still didn't really like her, but he could respect her as an opponent.
From the back room, the clink of glass resumed, and Yazoo realized that Loz must have been listening to them. He'd probably heard it all clearly.
Reaching up to push back a few strands of hair that had fallen across his field of view, Yazoo lifted his gaze to meet the young woman's. "You already know my name," he said, a hint of a wry smile tugging at his mouth, "but what's yours? Even with Big Brother back, we can't just keep calling you his woman if we're going to be friendly..."
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Tifa's mouth quirked a little at Yazoo's question. Funny, she didn't mind being called Cloud's woman all that much. "It's Tifa. I can finish up what's left in there," she called to Loz, pitching her voice to be heard.
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That was how it made sense to him, anyway. He was relieved that Yazoo had reached the same conclusion - that they should be on friendly terms - if not by the same process.
"S'all done," he said as he stepped out of the kitchen. He kept his gaze down - more now because Tifa seemed to prefer that - until he was closer to Yazoo. And then he looked away quickly again, not sure about what his brother's impassive expression might mean. And he wished he could find a jacket big enough for him to hide his hands in his pockets.
As it was, his jacket was hanging by the door, and he pulled it from the coat rack. "I'll um... see you later, I guess," he mumbled, glancing at Tifa, though still without meeting her eyes.
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He watched as Loz came out of the kitchen and approached -- he was still doing that thing with his hands, fidgeting by not fidgeting, and Yazoo had to hold back a frown. There was something that Loz was keeping from him, he was sure of it -- he just couldn't imagine what could be so troubling for his elder brother that he would try to hide it. It was more than just this place, more than the scars and the fact that Kadaj wasn't here with them and Sephiroth and--
Loz moved past him then to get his jacket, and the movement startled Yazoo enough that he nearly jumped, but checked himself just in time. He let the tension out in a measured breath and pushed irritably at his bangs, waiting for Loz to get the jacket on.
When Loz was ready, Yazoo turned and opened the door, but paused. He looked back at Tifa, met her gaze, and inclined his head a little, not quite a nod -- it was less a thanks than an acknowledgment.
"Come on," he said to Loz, "Naminé's waiting for us."
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When they were gone, she closed and locked the door behind them.
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He knew he needed to talk about this - all this - with Yazoo; he just wasn't entirely sure how to go about it. So he simply walked silently at his brother's side for a while, the slightly-too-tight jacket zipped all the way up to his chin, his breath fogging in front of him. For lack of pockets, he kept his thumbs hooked in his pockets, and kept his eyes on the ground - but he listened intently for any sounds from the dark, abandoned, half-destroyed buildings and streets around them.
...But the silence got to be too much for him before long. He unhooked one thumb as though to gesture with his hand, but only got as far as straightening his arm before moving it back to the previous position. He really didn't know what to say. "Um..."
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