@flava-proelium
☆ ━━━ It is late in the evening, the sky outside a deep navy and sprinkled with a thousand stars of teal and twinkling purple. The moon is a crescent shape smirking down on the world.
Cloud is restocking the bar for Tifa. The barmaid herself is out getting the rest of the supplies for the bar (as shocking as it is to find out: a bar doesn’t only carry alcohol and Tifa often had to race all over Edge to get everything she needed for a smooth week of business). To remain open for the last few hours, she insisted Cloud post himself behind the bar while she left for her last run of the night. She promised she would be home soon and yet the hours were ticking by, noted by the shining clock on the wall.
Still, as the bar only has two patrons he doesn’t know personally inside, he supposes being here isn’t the worst thing--he silently clinks bottles into the shelves and occasionally pours a shot when requested or fetches the lone beer. He’s typically quiet during such transactions, ending the entire encounter with a soft, “Thank you.”
The door twinkles open and Cloud turns, expecting another stranger to clamber up to the counter, yet he’s shocked to see it’s Elena, one of Rufus’s Turks.
He blinks twice at her, but otherwise remains impassive.
“Elena?” He asks with a quirk of an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”
It seems impossible to him that she might want something as simple as a drink... but as she remains a Turk, he would be genuinely surprised if that’s the case.
