From across the room, he watches the woman behind the bar. She moves gracefully, as if this work she does is an art. He's told her how much he admires the way she does her job, but he's not sure she appreciated it fully.
Slowly but surely, this place is starting to close in on him. It's nowhere near as small a space as his coffin in the Shinra Manor basement, but it's a prison nonetheless. The only thing keeping him sane, he thinks, is the fact that he's got one friend here.
He's almost content to watch her from afar but really, as comfortable as he says he is being alone, he's human -- mostly -- and every once in a while he needs his friends. Here, that means Tifa and ignoring Reno, he takes a surreptitious seat at the far end of the bar.
This... is as close as he'll ever get to an admission of loneliness. Since they returned, he's been filled with increasing feelings of despair. The questions he asks have gone from where is Lucrecia to why is she gone to after all this time, not even a word? This feels even more like a slap in the face than it did thirty years ago because... well... she'd stopped teasing.
And that gave him hope. He's discussed this with no one, but it's been eating at him. That little bit of hope went so far toward eroding the darkness he'd been living with but now it's dashed.
For that, he feels even more remorse than before. He's tired of it.
It's almost enough to make her heart ache. For him this time.
"For you, I can spare a lot."
It's very rare for Vincent to seek out company. And it's even rarer that he admits that he is, but... there's nothing wrong with it. He needs friends just like everybody else, and she's lucky enough to be one of the few he considers one.
Cloud has gotten almost as bad as Vincent lately, she thinks. Sometimes worse. While even as recently as eight months ago she wouldn't have imagined Vincent asking for company like this, she really can't imagine Cloud doing it now.
The thought would break her heart if she let it, but she doesn't have the time to right now.
"No, no." He waves the offer away with a flash of golden hand-armor: he couldn't drink anything now if he wanted to. In fact, he hasn't eaten anything for a few days but... well... he doesn't really need it. He did, after all, go without for thirty years. That gauntlet finds a resting place covering his eyes and face: he's exhausted.
But he shakes that off, lowering his hand almost immediately. "No luck with the door yet. She... isn't here."
There's no need whatsoever to identify who she is: Tifa knows.
And Tifa's the only one he can really talk to about this although really, he doesn't have so very much to say.
He has... less idea what to do now than he did when he first got here. More than anything, he wishes Lucrecia would walk into the room but... well... she won't. And if she won't, he wishes that wherever she is, she's happy.
If it makes her happy, then... I don't mind.
He's a confirmed creature of habit. He's also used to disappointment and this latest round is... something he can swallow back until he's in the privacy of his own room where the flowers she placed around -- and the candles and notes and books -- are still there as if it's some sort of untouchable museum.
Some nights he dreads going back there, opting instead to sleep in the treetop canopy. It's easier.
"Would you..." No, he can't ask Tifa to lighten his burden; he shakes his head slowly.
She can serve him drinks, make him something to eat, talk his ears off about taking care of Marlene or how business at Seventh Heaven is going or growing up in Nibelheim or training with Zangan.
She'd do whatever she can to help. It may not be enough, but she'll feel better for trying.
There's one very big benefit to having red eyes and just now he's thankful for them. As if he could hide from the one person here who knows him, he lowers himself on the bar stool, his face sinking comfortably into hiding beneath the mantle of his cloak. Everything is so painful.
All of it: every last bit. He doesn't want things to be this way but... well... circumstances are out of his control again and there's little he can do but remind himself that he's perfectly capable of dealing with this new disappointment.
And really, what did he expect? Hearts and flowers? Well, he got the flowers.
"Would you..."
That's no good; the cloak is muffling his voice so he sits up just enough. "When you're done tending bar. Would you walk outside with me?" It's all he can do to get the words to leave his throat right now. He's been a mess before, but this... difficulty... is new.
That's... one of the least difficult things he could possibly ask her to do.
Smiling a little, she nods. "Of course I will."
If he wants, they could go for a walk and then come back in for something hot to drink before they go their separate ways for the night. Or... maybe she'll do that last part alone. He may feel like staying outside. She has no idea, but she is used to him enjoying his solitude.
She clasps her idle hands behind her back. "I really can't get you anything at all until then?"
"No." He can barely get the single word out: this is ridiculous. He can't let himself get this way but he can't seem to stop it either and he doesn't... can't... won't lose control.
Chaos will not have a turn.
"But thank you." Forcing himself not to blink, he looks up to the rafters and swallows back every single thing that's on his mind: he can't carry it right now.
Vincent's a man of even fewer words than usual tonight, but she can't blame him.
It must seem like he's lost Lucrecia all over again -- even though he's never told her anything about her cave has changed whenever they leave the bar -- and loss is something she knows well.
She just hopes he doesn't blame himself for this. She's not sure how he could, but... she's found that Vincent is impressive when it comes to feeling responsible for things relating to Lucrecia.
Reaching over the bar, she rests her hand against his dark hair. "Let me know if you change your mind. The bar should wake up pretty soon."
He'd like to weep when her hand goes to his hair... but he doesn't. That's not allowed, as far as he's concerned.
"I'll be here." Folding his arms on Bar's surface, he rests his head against the gauntlet. If there was a coffin nearby he'd crawl into it and let the lid shut on him: that's just how miserable this whole situation makes him.
Not a word. Not even a word, and he goes back and forth between thinking that most likely she didn't have time to leave him a note and believing she simply didn't feel the need to bother. He was of little consequence to her thirty years ago, so why should here and now be any different?
And then he feels remorse for doubting her, and the cycle spirals. Tonight, here in the bar, he lets his eyes close gently. He knows exactly where Tifa is and exactly where Lucrecia isn't. Beyond that, there's nothing he needs to see and nobody he needs to speak to.
She can't help keeping an eye on Vincent throughout the rest of her shift, glancing over while mixing a drink or chatting with a customer.
Over the past... well, it's been almost a year and a half now, Vincent has really become one of her closest friends. He's forever and always their stoic Vincent, but he's been opening up to her in a way she'd never have dreamed of during their six months of adventures together.
But tonight, if not for asking her to go on a walk with him, he'd seem a lot more like he did the day they found him in Shinra Manor.
In about fifteen minutes or so, the bar comes back to life, serving food and drinks almost instantaneously, and Tifa's washed her hands and walked around to the other side of the bar, stopping beside Vincent's bar stool.
At home, he can feel the pulse of the Lifestream in the ground, the trees, the rivers and oceans, the mountains. Here he only wishes he could. He'd like to be able to say that there's some subtle and noticeable shift when Bar wakes up but... no. Or perhaps he's simply too preoccupied with his own unhappiness to notice.
When Tifa speaks to him, suddenly so close, he lets his eyes open and sits up again. His answer to her is a single and simple nod and when he stands he knows protocol dictates he offer her his arm but... no. Tonight he's wary of the proximity, unable to be as casual as he might like.
There's no agenda for this walk: only a desire to be with someone who understands him. And out of everyone he knows here, she does understand him better than anyone else. He's told her more than he's told any other living soul save Lucrecia and... well, she's been encased in Mako crystals. Who knows what she really hears. Absorbs. Remembers. Lucrecia here said she heard it all but... if she did, then... how could she have done this
( ... )
The air is crisp, and she likes the coolness on her bare arms. The longer she stays here the less like an illusion the lake area seems. But she's never quite been able to forget that it is one.
For the first few minutes of their walk, she's just as quiet as Vincent is, her fingers laced idly behind her back. They can't be silent the whole time, though.
Or at least she can't. He's hurting, and she wishes she could do something about it.
"It's no Costa del Sol" -- she lifts her chin to gesture toward the moonlight reflected on the lake -- "but it's really pretty."
Slowly but surely, this place is starting to close in on him. It's nowhere near as small a space as his coffin in the Shinra Manor basement, but it's a prison nonetheless. The only thing keeping him sane, he thinks, is the fact that he's got one friend here.
He's almost content to watch her from afar but really, as comfortable as he says he is being alone, he's human -- mostly -- and every once in a while he needs his friends. Here, that means Tifa and ignoring Reno, he takes a surreptitious seat at the far end of the bar.
The shadows are a comfort to him.
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And slowly but surely, wiping the bar down as she goes, she strolls over toward him until she's standing across from him.
"Hi, Vincent." She gives him a big smile. It's no secret that she's glad to see him. "What can I get for you tonight?"
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This... is as close as he'll ever get to an admission of loneliness. Since they returned, he's been filled with increasing feelings of despair. The questions he asks have gone from where is Lucrecia to why is she gone to after all this time, not even a word? This feels even more like a slap in the face than it did thirty years ago because... well... she'd stopped teasing.
And that gave him hope. He's discussed this with no one, but it's been eating at him. That little bit of hope went so far toward eroding the darkness he'd been living with but now it's dashed.
For that, he feels even more remorse than before. He's tired of it.
Tired of it all.
"If you have some to spare."
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"For you, I can spare a lot."
It's very rare for Vincent to seek out company. And it's even rarer that he admits that he is, but... there's nothing wrong with it. He needs friends just like everybody else, and she's lucky enough to be one of the few he considers one.
Cloud has gotten almost as bad as Vincent lately, she thinks. Sometimes worse. While even as recently as eight months ago she wouldn't have imagined Vincent asking for company like this, she really can't imagine Cloud doing it now.
The thought would break her heart if she let it, but she doesn't have the time to right now.
"Can I get you a drink along with it?"
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But he shakes that off, lowering his hand almost immediately. "No luck with the door yet. She... isn't here."
There's no need whatsoever to identify who she is: Tifa knows.
And Tifa's the only one he can really talk to about this although really, he doesn't have so very much to say.
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Her head tips slowly to one side, eyes softening, and she leans on the bar, her shoulders a little slumped. "Are you sure?"
Of course he's sure by now.
Where could Lucrecia go from here? Just... back to her tomb of mako crystals in the cave hidden by the waterfall?
She wishes he'd let her get him something. Even if it's only water.
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He has... less idea what to do now than he did when he first got here. More than anything, he wishes Lucrecia would walk into the room but... well... she won't. And if she won't, he wishes that wherever she is, she's happy.
If it makes her happy, then... I don't mind.
He's a confirmed creature of habit. He's also used to disappointment and this latest round is... something he can swallow back until he's in the privacy of his own room where the flowers she placed around -- and the candles and notes and books -- are still there as if it's some sort of untouchable museum.
Some nights he dreads going back there, opting instead to sleep in the treetop canopy. It's easier.
"Would you..." No, he can't ask Tifa to lighten his burden; he shakes his head slowly.
"Never mind."
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She can serve him drinks, make him something to eat, talk his ears off about taking care of Marlene or how business at Seventh Heaven is going or growing up in Nibelheim or training with Zangan.
She'd do whatever she can to help. It may not be enough, but she'll feel better for trying.
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All of it: every last bit. He doesn't want things to be this way but... well... circumstances are out of his control again and there's little he can do but remind himself that he's perfectly capable of dealing with this new disappointment.
And really, what did he expect? Hearts and flowers? Well, he got the flowers.
"Would you..."
That's no good; the cloak is muffling his voice so he sits up just enough. "When you're done tending bar. Would you walk outside with me?" It's all he can do to get the words to leave his throat right now. He's been a mess before, but this... difficulty... is new.
And he doesn't like it at all.
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Smiling a little, she nods. "Of course I will."
If he wants, they could go for a walk and then come back in for something hot to drink before they go their separate ways for the night. Or... maybe she'll do that last part alone. He may feel like staying outside. She has no idea, but she is used to him enjoying his solitude.
She clasps her idle hands behind her back. "I really can't get you anything at all until then?"
He doesn't have too much longer to wait.
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Chaos will not have a turn.
"But thank you." Forcing himself not to blink, he looks up to the rafters and swallows back every single thing that's on his mind: he can't carry it right now.
He can't.
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It must seem like he's lost Lucrecia all over again -- even though he's never told her anything about her cave has changed whenever they leave the bar -- and loss is something she knows well.
She just hopes he doesn't blame himself for this. She's not sure how he could, but... she's found that Vincent is impressive when it comes to feeling responsible for things relating to Lucrecia.
Reaching over the bar, she rests her hand against his dark hair. "Let me know if you change your mind. The bar should wake up pretty soon."
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"I'll be here." Folding his arms on Bar's surface, he rests his head against the gauntlet. If there was a coffin nearby he'd crawl into it and let the lid shut on him: that's just how miserable this whole situation makes him.
Not a word. Not even a word, and he goes back and forth between thinking that most likely she didn't have time to leave him a note and believing she simply didn't feel the need to bother. He was of little consequence to her thirty years ago, so why should here and now be any different?
And then he feels remorse for doubting her, and the cycle spirals. Tonight, here in the bar, he lets his eyes close gently. He knows exactly where Tifa is and exactly where Lucrecia isn't. Beyond that, there's nothing he needs to see and nobody he needs to speak to.
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Over the past... well, it's been almost a year and a half now, Vincent has really become one of her closest friends. He's forever and always their stoic Vincent, but he's been opening up to her in a way she'd never have dreamed of during their six months of adventures together.
But tonight, if not for asking her to go on a walk with him, he'd seem a lot more like he did the day they found him in Shinra Manor.
In about fifteen minutes or so, the bar comes back to life, serving food and drinks almost instantaneously, and Tifa's washed her hands and walked around to the other side of the bar, stopping beside Vincent's bar stool.
"Ready for that walk?"
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When Tifa speaks to him, suddenly so close, he lets his eyes open and sits up again. His answer to her is a single and simple nod and when he stands he knows protocol dictates he offer her his arm but... no. Tonight he's wary of the proximity, unable to be as casual as he might like.
There's no agenda for this walk: only a desire to be with someone who understands him. And out of everyone he knows here, she does understand him better than anyone else. He's told her more than he's told any other living soul save Lucrecia and... well, she's been encased in Mako crystals. Who knows what she really hears. Absorbs. Remembers. Lucrecia here said she heard it all but... if she did, then... how could she have done this ( ... )
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For the first few minutes of their walk, she's just as quiet as Vincent is, her fingers laced idly behind her back. They can't be silent the whole time, though.
Or at least she can't. He's hurting, and she wishes she could do something about it.
"It's no Costa del Sol" -- she lifts her chin to gesture toward the moonlight reflected on the lake -- "but it's really pretty."
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