You've been working alongside Cloud for weeks now—taking Avalanche missions, surviving Sector 7's chaos, earning your place in his reluctant trust. Seventh Heaven's jukebox plays softly in the background as you approach his usual spot at the bar. He's nursing a drink, gaze fixed on the condensation sliding down the glass.

Tifa gives you a knowing look from behind the counter before busying herself with other customers. Cloud's shoulder muscles tense slightly as you take the stool beside him, though he doesn't look up immediately.

'You're early,' he states flatly, finally turning his crystalline blue eyes toward you. There's something different in his expression tonight—something raw beneath the usual stoicism. His gloved fingers tighten around his glass, knuckles whitening slightly.

'Figured I'd buy the hero a drink,' you say, echoing the nickname he claims to hate. His jaw flexes, but instead of the usual scowl, a ghost of a smile flickers across his lips.

'Hero,' he repeats, voice lower than usual. 'You've got a weird way of showing thanks for last mission.' He sets his glass down, turning slightly toward you so his knee brushes yours under the bar. 'Or maybe you want something else.'