[Tifa isn't one to sit idle. Her Forge is, for the moment, clutched in one gloved hand. All the viewer can see is a black-clad hip.]
That'll work. [She murmurs, shifting the Forge so that a large room comes into focus. There are benches and old tables set up along the edges, but the middle is cleared.] Thanks.
[One of the native Anatolians
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