When Tifa finally rose to her feet the last vestiges of worry and tension withdrew from the edges of Cloud's mind like an ebbing tide. The desperation that had gripped him and driven him from the moment he woke in this strange new world gave way to an unfamiliar sense of ease. And of something else, bubbling beneath the surface, more familiar but beyond Cloud's ability to put into words. It was Tifa herself who told him once, in the shadow of the Highwind, that words weren't the only way to tell someone how you felt. But without the threat of the end of the world at his back, Cloud found himself too much a coward to say more than he already had.

But he returned her grin. He'd been doing that a lot since she came to. It was hard not to, even if he tried to maintain the cool facade that shielded him back in Midgar.

"Yeah. A drink sounds good," he said, nodding. He couldn't remember where he'd heard the phrase 'liquid courage' before, but maybe that was what he needed now. He started out of the room, holding the door for Tifa, and headed back downstairs with her. The potion looked to have done the trick, but Cloud still found himself watching hawklike for a shaky leg, an unsteady step, ready with a supporting hand. He knew, logically, that she could probably throw him through a wall right now but he couldn't help himself. Mt. Nibel left a scar that ran deep, and some days Cloud felt it more than others.

"Have you heard from anyone else?" he asked as they made their way down to the main floor. "Figured Barret would be causing a ruckus in a city like this..."

A part of him thought Barret would have been the first of his friends that he'd track down, if they were here at all. It was hard to be low key when you had a gun for an arm. Or when you were Barret, generally speaking.

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@tifa