"You're late."
Reno shrugged. It was only ten minutes, and it wasn't like he hadn't been late before.
"Mr. Hutchinson wants to see you in his office."
Shit. Mr. Hutchinson was the dock supervisor. Reno could think of a number of reasons why the man would want to talk to him, all of the bad.
He shifted direction, turning left and walking toward the office. It stood wedged between the street and the edge of the dock. Half a dozen seagulls seemed to have made a home of the roof. It was one of those prefabricated trailers that one usually saw on construction sites, the kind that were put up temporarily until the construction was complete. There wasn't any construction going on here, and the trailer seemed to be a permanent fixture. Were they going to get on his case for being late so often? Or was it something else?
No sense in speculating. He'd find out soon enough.
He pulled open the door to the office. The reception area was cramped, not surprising considering it was only a trailer and there wasn't much room to begin with. Joyce, Mr. Hutchinson's secretary, sat behind a desk whose placement left only a few feet between itself and the door. Two metal chairs stood beside the door to Mr. Hutchinson's own office. A large file cabinet left him barely enough room to walk.
Joyce looked up as he entered. She pointed to the office.
"You can go right in," she told him. Then she lowered her voice and said conspiratorially; "He's not in a very good mood."
Great.
Reno nodded to Joyce, then walked over and opened the door to Mr. Hutchinson's office. That room took up the back end of the trailer and was no bigger than the one in front. Considering the fact that Hutchinson's desk was larger than Joyce's it left barely enough room to walk at all.
Dutch Hutchinson looked up at Reno from his desk when the ex Turk entered. Dutch had the look of a man who had spent his whole life in hard labor. He was almost sixty years old, but he had the appearance of a man twenty years younger. He actually reminded Reno a lot of Dio at the Gold Saucer. He had the same body builder physique. His hair was dark, obviously dyed, and probably a bit scarcer than the man would like. He eyed Reno now with a not particularly friendly look. That didn't mean anything, however, it was how the man looked at everyone.
Dutch wasn't his real name. It was a nickname he had picked up somewhere. Reno didn't know the details. He suspected the man had picked it out for himself. His real name was Prescott, but not too many people at the docks knew that. It wasn't something the man advertised. Not that Reno gave a dam. Dutch wasn't really someone he liked to hobnob with. Although he acted like just one of the guys Reno knew he only cared about making gil and kissing up to his superiors.
"You're late."
Geez, how many times were they going to tell him that? He hoped this wasn't going to end up being a lecture. He really really wasn't in the mood for a lecture.
"Sorry, my alarm clock didn't go off."
"Reno, it's two o'clock in the afternoon."
"Hey, what can I say, I'm a late sleeper."
Dutch leaned back in his chair. He didn't look too convinced. Reno didn't give a shit.
"Business hasn't been good lately," Dutch continued. "Profits are down the last three quarters. The economy has shrunk and people aren't shipping as much as they used to. Competition has become a lot stiffer as well."
There was a crystal paperweight in the shape of a pyramid on the man's desk. Reno resisted the urge to fiddle with it.
"We're in a bad time and the company is suffering. Its been decided that the only way to maintain viability is to shrink the workforce."
Reno folded his hands in his lap, he tilted his head down and looked at Mr. Hutchinson.
"Are you trying to tell me I'm fired?"
Dutch folded his arms across his chest and gave Reno a stony look.
"We're... downsizing," he said. "I don't like it anymore than you do but it's got to be done. It's just business, you know? Joyce already has a check for your severance pay on her desk. You can pick it up on your way out."
"Downsizing? Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better," Reno said sarcastically.
"Don't get cute with me Reno. You're lucky they didn't cut you loose with nothing. Your tenure here hasn't been exactly exemplary you know."
Reno kept his face neutral, even thought he felt a strong urge to get up and slug the guy right in his big fat nose. For a moment he entertained the pleasant vision of himself sticking his nightstick up a rather sensitive piece of Dutch's anatomy but, tempting as it was, he didn't want to waste his time on this guy. Figuring he'd heard enough he got up and opened the door again, but before he left he stopped and turned back to Mr. Mutchinson.
"Kiss my ass, Prescott."
Not interested in any reply the man might care to make he walked out and closed the door. Joyce picked up an envelope and held it out for him as he walked over to her.
"Sorry," she said.
Reno gave her a wink.
"Hey, don't worry about it. I was getting sick and tired of working in this dump anyway."
He walked out, down the road past the workers who were busy lifting crates onto a ship bound for Costa Del Sol or Gongaga or wherever the hell. Reno didn't particularly care, nor did he care about the glances some of the others gave him as he left.
Only after he was well past them, turning down another block, did he allow his shoulders to slump slightly and a grim look to appear on his face.
"Shit," he muttered. He was already a month late on his rent. He didn't have any other jobs lined up. This was going to screw him up royally.
Oh well, he wasn't going to cry over it, and he steadfastly ignored the feeling in his gut, the feeling that maybe this time he was in more trouble than his not inconsiderable talents could pull him out of. He didn't have a lot of cash on hand, or saved, and if he didn't find a new job soon he was going to be in deep shit. It all left him with a bad taste in his mouth. He didn't like that at all.
He walked into a small bar a couple of blocks away from the dock. A rotting sign over the door proclaimed it Blakes. The owner of the bar was a man called McMurphy. Dennis McMurphy. According to McMurphy, Blake used to be the Captain of a ship used as a gunrunner during the Midgar Wutai war. The ship had been spotted off the coast of Junon by Midgar forces and sunk. Captain Blake had lost his leg in the battle but still managed to swim to shore. Apparently the man was so overwhelmed by his survival that he forsook the sea that very moment and swore to build a bar on the spot where he had made it to shore. Which is exactly what he did. For years it was one of the most popular bars in Junon, for it seemed that Captain Blake had a much better knack for poker than he did for seafaring, and after a while all the best players in Junon gravitated to the bar. Some epic poker games were played in that time. One night it seemed as if every poker player in town was in the bar, and a lot of folks who weren't poker players, who just came to watch. Blake was cleaning up, except for one guy who no one knew. Eventually it was just the two of them left, and they kept going back and forth and back and forth. Finally just before dawn Blake started to get the upper hand. By then they had upped the stakes so that there was no limit, and Blake bet everything he had on one last hand. He won, but when he did the stranger accused him of cheating. A huge fight broke out and the bar was almost totally destroyed. Four people died and Blake was shot three times, but again he managed to survive, but the close call brought another epiphany upon him and right then and there he resigned to give the bar to the first person who walked in the door and return to the sea. Well, as it turned out, Dennis McMurphy was the next person to walk in, and that was how he ended up the owner of a bar named Blakes. As for Blake, he kept his word to himself and had another ship built. It was said to have been lost in a storm with all hands on it's maiden voyage. Funny how things work out sometimes.
Reno didn't know how much of that story was true, if any of it. It was a tale McMurphy was fond of telling. Blakes wasn't Reno's usual hangout, he only frequented it when he was in the mood for cheap liquor and plenty of it. Still, that was often enough that he had heard the story more than once.
The place was a dump, but it had the advantage that the drinks there were extremely cheap and since Reno's budget had shrunk considerably just recently, it seemed like just the thing. Reno wasn't quite sure just how many drinks he had. It was something he always deliberately avoided keeping track of. He always let his body tell him when he had had enough. Sometimes his body was right, and sometimes it was wrong. Considering the fact that in this case his intentions were to keep drinking until he forgot about his troubles and this whole stinking world, he didn't think a running count was necessary.
After a while however, and long before he had obtained his goal, he began to get restless. For some reason getting drunk began to seem less and less satisfying. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because he was alone. Normally he didn't mind being alone. In the state he was in, he usually preferred it, in fact, but for some reason today he didn't feel that way. Rude was usually a good companion during times like this, someone who wouldn't judge or condemn him and who seemed to realize that mindless chatter would not solve anything. Rude was someone who understood him. However, after their little tiff the other day he really wasn't in the mood to hang out with Rude.
He lifted up his glass and stared into it. Ice could be a fascinating thing at times.
He was actually considering going by Tifa's place. Her reception would be a bit more dicey than he would get with Rude. She certainly wouldn't approve of his intentions of drinking until he passed out, and like most woman, she'd be more than willing to let him know that. Still, though she might not approve she wasn't really the type to lecture him. She was too nice to do that. Too nice for her own damn good, in fact. If he told her he lost his job she might even be sympathetic. That could work to his advantage.
He drained his glass, paid the bill and left the bar. A cold wind had sprung up from the north while he was inside. It let out a mournful moan as it funneled down the street, like the sigh of a woman lamenting a lost love. Reno ignored it, and the cold it brought. He had had more than enough to drink already that his limbs were numb to such things.
It took him a while to get to Tifa's. McMurphy's was closer to his place, across town from where she lived. He wasn't sure if she was working today. She might not even be home by the time he got there. Well, if that were the case he could just head down to the Halo and Horns. It would be better if she was home though. He was sure he could wheedle more sympathy out of her here than at work.
He was on the sidewalk in front of the building next to hers when the door to her apartment opened and a man stepped out.
Reno stopped. His spirits, which had risen slightly on the way here, sank to a new low as he glared at the man. It was too late to turn around, too late to not be noticed. He was too close to her door, and Brent saw him the moment he stepped out. Not that Reno gave a shit whether Brent noticed him at this point anyway. He was in no mood to play any games today.
Brent slowly walked over to him.
"What are you doing here?" he said coldly.
"What I'm doing here is none of your business," Reno replied.
Brent was standing in front of him, between Reno and Tifa's door. He was taller than Reno, and came up close, taking advantage of his height to look down at Reno. If the thought that was going to intimidate the ex-Turk, he was very much mistaken.
"Get out of my way," Reno said evenly.
"She doesn't want to see you," Brent said, holding his ground.
They both glared at one another. Reno felt his hands slowly clenching. He was pretty certain this was going to lead to a fight and that was perfectly fine with him. Still, he figured he'd give the guy one change to back down before things got ugly.
"Do yourself a favor," Reno said. "Get in that car of yours and scurry back to whatever rat hole you came out of because I'm in no mood to put up with your shit."
Brent didn't budge.
"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but she doesn't want to see you," Brent repeated. "She told me all about you, how you were a big shot ex-Turk. Well, that might carry some weight with other people but it don't mean squat to me. You'd better stop harassing her or..."
"Or what?" Reno cut him off.
They stood there staring at one another for a moment.
"Or you'll have to answer to me," Brent finished.
Reno scratched his chin, seeming to ponder this for a moment.
"Oooh, answer to you? Well, now I'm really scared."
"Don't mock me!" Brent growled.
"Then don't make me laugh," Reno replied. "I have nothing else to say to you."
With that he tried to brush past Brent, but the man reached out and grabbed hold of his arm as he passed.
Reno had been waiting for an excuse, and Brent's actions were just what the doctor ordered. His nerves had already been stretched to the breaking point by what had already happened to him today. He needed a way to release some tension and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.
Grabbing hold of Brent's arm, he twisted round, pulling the man's arm up behind him and then down, forcing the man backwards until he fell to the ground.
Reno turned and started walking toward Tifa's door, as if Brent were no longer a threat, as if he meant nothing. He wasn't sure if Brent would get up again, if he would rise to the challenge, but Reno was hoping he would. He hadn't hurt the man nearly enough to derive any satisfaction out of this yet.
As it happened, Brent was more than willing to oblige. He pulled himself to his feet. "Bastard!" he yelled as he charged at Reno. Brent slowed and instead of trying to bowl Reno over brought up his hands and jabbed at Reno's face. Reno danced to the side to avoid the blow, and a flurry of others that Brent sent his way, one of which did manage to connect, glancing off his chin and forcing him to take a step back. He didn't really feel any pain from it however. Apparently Brent wasn't completely inept. He seemed to know how to box. However, that was hardly going to be good enough, and after taking a moment to adjust, Reno's leg shot out, catching Brent right in the knee and dropping him to the ground one more time. Brent struck at him with his leg but Reno easily avoided it and kicked Brent again, and then a third time. He was beginning to feel a little bit better now.
"Reno!"
Damn. Why was happiness always so fleeting?
He stopped as Tifa ran up in front of him, forcing her way between him and Brent.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded.
Kind of a stupid question. It was pretty obvious he was kicking the shit out of Brent. Course, he didn't think it would calm her down any if he pointed that out.
So instead he said nothing.
But that didn't appease Tifa either. She took a step toward him, bringing up her fists.
"You want to fight somebody, then fight with me!" she snapped.
Before Reno could respond Tifa felt someone grab her by the shoulders and push her aside.
"Stay out of this Tifa," Brent said, once more on his feet. "This is between him and I."
Even with Tifa there, Reno was far too drunk to pass up a challenge like that. With a flick of his wrist he turned on the Mag-rod he had in his hand but hadn't used yet. He wanted to make an impression on this guy, an impression he wouldn't soon forget and fists just didn't seem adequate for the job.
Brent was striding forward, straight at him. He wasn't taking any heed of the rod, obviously thinking it was just a simple nightstick. Reno would be more than happy to show him just how wrong he was.
Brent might not have been aware of the danger, but Tifa certainly was.
"Brent, watch out!"
She lunged forward, pushing Brent out of the way just as the Mag-rod crackled to life.
"Ahhh!" she cried out as white hot pain shot through her side. For a moment she thought she was going to black out. She stumbled, feeling like she had lost control of her body, but it wasn't completely so. She fell to her knees, but did not topple.
Silence.
Tifa shuddered, clenching her teeth together, waiting for an interminable period of time for the pain to subside. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring down at the ground in front of her, barely able to see.
"What did you do that for?" she heard Reno say. "That was supposed..."
"Reno..." Her voice stopped him. She wasn't looking at him, just continued to stare at the ground.
"Go away."
He just stood there. There wasn't any anger in her voice. There wasn't any emotion in her words at all. For some reason that just made him feel worse. She was looking at the ground, rocking slowly back and forth, her arms clenched tightly about her.
"I didn't mean..."
She lifted her head and looked at him.
"Just... go!"
Reno hesitated, looking at her. He didn't really want to go, but he suspected that any flippant remarks on his part would only make the situation worse at this point. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but he wasn't going to apologize. It was her own stupid fault for getting in the way.
He straightened up, clicking off the Mag-rod.
"Fine," he said. "Just fine."
He turned and strode away. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead. He wasn't about to turn and look back.
"Are you all right?"
Tifa turned toward Brent, who stood beside her, bending over to get a look at her.
She wasn't sure. Slowly she uncurled from her protective position. This wasn't the first time she had had a taste of Reno's Mag-rod, but in those days there had usually been a friend nearby with a restore materia to take away some of the sting. That wasn't the case this time. Her arms and legs tingled, and her side where the bolt had struck her still burned and was sore to the touch. She got unsteadily to her feet.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Why did you get in the way like that?"
She shook her head to clear out the cobwebs.
"I was trying to protect you," she replied.
"And instead you got hurt yourself. I don't need you to protect me," he told her. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"I told you, Reno's dangerous," she replied, a hint of irritation slipping into her voice. Was he going to start in with the macho stuff again?
"Hey, I can take care of a punk like him," Brent replied. "I'm a pretty fair boxer. In my senior year in college I finished second in the state."
Tifa had to resist the urge to laugh. He really had no idea what he was up against.
"You think a few years of boxing in college is going to help you against an ex-Turk? They're taught to fight with every weapon you can think of, and I few you wouldn't. If he was serious, he could have killed you before you even knew what was happening."
Perhaps not the most tactful thing to say, but she just didn't feel very tolerant right now.
"Oh come on, he can't be that bad," Brent said. "You fought him, didn't you?"
"Yeah," she said slowly. "So?"
"Well, he didn't kill you, now did he?"
"Brent, I've trained in martial arts, remember?"
"Yes, I know," he replied. "Still, I think your exaggerating his abilities."
She shut her mouth, frustrated. In spite of the shellacking Reno had been giving him, he still refused to see the truth. Did he really have that big an ego, or was this just posturing for her benefit? He just couldn't show any weakness in front of a lady? She didn't know.
She sighed, deciding it was useless to argue.
"If you say so."
"And what was he doing here?" Brent asked.
"I don't know," she replied. Hadn't they already gone over this? "I told you he's been coming by."
"And you also told me you would get him to stop."
She gave him a look. Now she really was irritated. Were they going to have this argument all over again?
"I've been trying," she said. Her shoulders slumped. "Please Brent, I don't want to fight about this."
He didn't reply. He was going back to Gongaga. He had done all the paperwork he could here in Junon. She wouldn't see him again for at least six days. That was the earliest he could be back. He had come over this morning to spend some time with her before he left. They had had a pleasant day together and then this had to happen. Now he was all pissed off again, first because she had interfered with his machofest with Reno and now because she hadn't gotten rid of the ex-Turk yet.
He didn't fight with her though. He just looked down at his watch.
"I have to go," he said.
He had a flight out at four thirty. If he didn't leave soon he might miss it. Maybe that's why he didn't pursue the argument. He didn't have time.
"I guess you better get going then," she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
He looked at her for a moment, then turned and walked over to his car. A few moments later he was gone.
Tifa stood there as the wind swirled up around her, causing her to shiver. She didn't have a coat on. She had heard a commotion outside and when she saw what was happening she had run out immediately. The wind was icy cold. Still she hesitated, looking down the street where Brent's car had disappeared, feeling empty inside. She knew he was mad at her, even if he hadn't said anything. All she had done was try to protect him. She had taken the hit for him and he hadn't even given her so much as a thank you in return.
Why had Reno showed up? Why did he have to come here? Everything would have been fine if only he hadn't come along just as Brent was leaving.
With a sigh she walked rapidly back toward her door.
Why did she even bother?
She went inside but reemerged just a few minutes later and headed off toward the Halo and Horns.
Once at work she tried to forget all about the little altercation between Reno and Brent. At first she succeeded. For a Tuesday night the place was pretty busy. The music pounding in her ears, the girls dancing, the swirl of customers around her, all kept her occupied, kept her mind off her troubles. Or at least they did until she saw Reno walk in later that night.
She turned and walked away as she saw him coming toward her. She was in no mood to speak to him. She couldn't believe he had the gall to show up here after that farce this afternoon. No, scratch that. She could believe it. The man had no shame.
She walked over to Caraca and tapped him on the shoulder. "Can you take care of that guy?" she questioned, nodding toward Reno.
Caraca looked over at Reno, recognizing him as the man Tifa had left with that one night last week.
"Take care of him as in..." he said slowly.
"No," she said. "Just serve him his drinks. Don't try to throw him out, or get into a fight with him. I just don't want to talk to him."
Caraca rubbed his chin, then nodded.
"Sure, no problem."
"Thanks."
Caraca put down the glass he was cleaning and walked over in front of Reno just as the ex-Turk sat down. Caraca splayed his hands on the bar in front of Reno and looked at him.
"What'll ya have?"
Reno lifted his hand and pointed right at Caraca.
"I want to talk to Tifa," he said.
Caraca didn't move.
"She's busy."
"No she's not," Reno countered, his finger wandering until it pointed off to the side. It was obvious to Caraca the man in front of him was quite drunk. "She's right over there."
Caraca glanced behind him for a moment.
"She's busy with another customer. Now do you want a drink or not?"
"I want to talk to Tifa," Reno said stubbornly.
Caraca leaned forward a bit.
"And I told you," he said, pausing between each word. "She's busy."
Reno slowly leaned forward in his chair, as if her were about to fall forward, but then caught himself at the last moment.
"And I say... she's not!"
Caraca stood up and folded his arms across his chest.
"Look pal, you can either order a drink or you can leave. Those are the only choices you've got."
Reno just stared at him for a moment. He looked too drunk to be intimidated and it seemed to Caraca that he might end up in a fight in spite of Tifa's admonishment not to, but Reno suddenly smiled.
"Fine, I'll have a scotch," he said.
"Straight? On the rocks?"
Reno pondered this for a second.
"Straight," he decided.
Caraca nodded and turned away.
"Tifa!" Reno shouted as soon as Caraca turned his back.
Caraca spun around and glared at Reno.
"I said she's busy," he growled. "Leave her alone!"
"Tifa!" Reno shouted again. "I need to talk to you."
Tifa felt her head begin to pound. She should have known better. She should have known this wouldn't work, that Reno wouldn't take no for an answer. Ignoring Reno was like ignoring a hurricane. Nearly impossible.
Surrendering, she walked over to where Caraca and Reno were. If she let this continue it would only lead to another battle. Unlike Brent, Caraca really did know how to fight, and he was twice Reno's size. If those two went at it someone was going to get hurt. Badly.
"I told you she doesn't want to talk to you!" Caraca was saying, obviously nearing the end of his patience. "Now maybe it's time..."
He stopped when he felt Tifa's hand on his shoulder.
"It's all right Caraca," she said.
The bouncer turned and looked at her.
"Are you sure?" he said after a moment.
She nodded.
"I should have known he wouldn't listen to reason. I'll talk to him."
Caraca didn't seem convinced that was all that good an idea, but he bowed to her will.
"All right," he said. "I'll be right over there. If you need me just call."
She gave him a halfhearted smile. With one last glare at Reno he walked away. Tifa turned to face the ex-Turk, drawing a hand across her face.
"Why are you doing this Reno?" she asked wearily.
"Your boyfriend," Reno muttered. Tifa wasn't sure why he emphasized the word.
"What about him?" she questioned.
Reno held up his hand and extended three fingers. He sat there looking at them for a minute, then lifted his other hand and with a finger from that hand pulled down one of the digits.
"He's got... two kids," Reno said.
"Yes, Jonathan and Angeline," Tifa replied. "I've got a kid to, in case you haven't noticed."
Reno didn't seem surprised that she wasn't.
"Born out of wedlock," he continued.
"I can hardly condem him for that, now can I?" she said pointedly. "I already know all this Reno. He had two kids with a woman when he was young. It was a mistake. He told me all about it. It's in the past. I don't care."
"She lives in Gorgaga," Reno went on, still looking at his fingers.
Tifa didn't reply right away. That was something she didn't know. She ignored his mispronunciation.
"It doesn't matter," she said finally.
Reno didn't say anything at all, just sat there inspecting his digits.
"It that all you came here to tell me?" she questioned eventually.
Finally he looked up at her.
"I thought... I thought you should know," he said carefully.
"Why are you doing this Reno?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"Why are you here? Why did you come by this afternoon? Why are you hounding me?"
"I'm not hounding you," he said, saying the word hounding very carefully.
"You're drunk," she told him.
"No shit."
"Why are you telling me this? Why are you looking into Brent's past?"
His eyes shifted off his hand to focus on something only he could see.
"I don't want you to make a mistake," he said.
"A mistake? What kind of mistake?"
"Hooking up with that looser... loser."
"Reno, why would you care? What are you doing? Why are following me around like some little lost puppy dog? Why can't you just leave me alone!"
Reno seemed to ponder this for quite some time.
"You never... answered my qwess... question."
"What question?"
"What happened between you..." he pointed to her. "And Cloud."
"Oh bullshit!" she exclaimed. "Nobody follows someone around just to find the answer to a stupid question like that. Dammit Reno, what is it you really want from me!"
She was almost shouting now, and that got Reno's attention, as well as a few other patrons of the bar, but Tifa didn't care anymore. Reno looked around, then with an apparent effort, managed to focus his eyes on her.
"All right, I admit it," he said, grinning at her. "I got the hots for ya. Now why don't we stop all this pussy footing around and go get a room and do what we've both wanted to do since we first met."
She just stared at him for a moment, then shook her head.
"You are such a jerk."
He leaned back. Unfortunately the chair he was sitting on had no back, and he had to flail his arms and just barely caught himself from falling over backwards.
"And you are a master of the obvious, aren't you?" he said after he composed himself.
"Reno. Go home."
"I haven't gotten my drink yet," he replied.
"And you're not going to," she stated. "You've had enough."
"I want a drink," he insisted.
"And I want a million gil. That doesn't mean I'm going to get it."
"You're a freakin' bar hostess. Now get me a damn drink!" he said angrily.
"And you're a freakin' asshole. And no, I'm not going to get you one. Go home!"
By now half the people in the bar had taken notice of their little conversation. Tifa would have been embarrassed if she had been paying attention.
Reno glared at her. She saw his hand reach for his Mag-rod and she tensed. Reno was tough, but he was also very drunk, and she didn't think he was faking it. If worst came to worst she didn't think she'd have much trouble taking him in this condition. She also knew that Caraca was not far away.
"You got your free shot already with that today," she warned. "Point that thing at me again and I'll wrap it around your neck."
For what seemed like a long time they just stood there looking at each other, Tifa with a determined look in her eye and Reno, well, Reno lucky he could maintain eye contact at all. In the end it was Reno who looked away first. He shifted his head then got up, tottering unsteadily for a moment.
"You know, that's one thing that I'd forgotten about you," he said when he was on his feet.
"What is?" she asked.
He looked at her again, and for just one fleeting moment his eyes seemed clear and perfectly sober.
"How much of a bitch you can be."
Then he turned, and, rather unsteadily, made his way out the exit.
Tifa didn't move as the door slapped closed behind him. She knew he was drunk. She knew he didn't know what he was saying. She knew he was saying it just out of spite. She knew it was just Reno, and what did she care what he thought anyway? Even so, in spite of all that, it still hurt.
She looked around, and for the first time noticed how many people were looking at her.
"I'm sorry," she said, to no one in particular.