❛That’s nice and all,❜
There’s a clear level of hesitation within his tone. Mindful enough not to risk offence, yet still marking the issue dire enough to voice a tentative protest. ‘Dire’ being a loose descriptor, that is-- as greater worries typically harried his footsteps and this barely broke the surface in comparison. However this was Tifa, and he cared ( although he was loathe to show it, miserable and halting as he was, awkward and unsure and fleeting ) and the bar was far more her home than his, as much as she deemed that not the case. As tired as he felt, it would do him no harm to tread gently.
Still, it was somewhat perplexing to return from another two week long delivery run only to discover this - a karaoke machine, and a gaudy one at that ( where in Gaia’s name had she even found it-- ) tucked away in the corner of the bar as if shameful.
As much as he respected her business, her home ( it was his too, she’d said, repeated over and over, just as the Tifa in his head echoed the same. He was welcome. He was cared for. He belonged here, too. It struggled to sink in.) Cloud couldn’t say he was particularly excited to return after each job not only to a typically popular bar, but one with singing drunkards within its midst as well.
❛But, uh. Isn’t it a little... ❜
Words halt and brows furrow. Perhaps it had merely been a gift. Perhaps it was meant for the children.
Perhaps his greatest concern was the inevitable coaxing to join in, as though he hadn’t sung a word in his life, as if he could ever comfortably say no to her.
Perhaps--- perhaps he was just being a kill joy.
❛--never mind.❜
