Just a couple last runs ended up being an extremely generous interpretation of both a couple and last, and whenever Cloud got around to realizing how long he'd stayed out on the mountain he would probably feel bad about it. But he'd been getting pretty good at apologizing to Tifa for being an idiot and this was one of his lesser offenses. At least this time he hadn't started a fight in the middle of a city.

He came flying down the last hundred meters off a jump, the wind whipping through his hair. The navy blue scarf he'd had pulled up over his nose had slipped down around his neck and the ice crystals kicked up into the air from the board wake peppered his exposed skin. At the bottom of the run, the trail joined in with a slow zone leading to the chairlifts. Cloud held his speed for as long as possible, savoring every drop of adrenaline in his system, then swung his rear foot forward and carved the heel edge of his board into the packed powder, shedding speed until he joined the flow of slow traffic on the way to the lifts.

Just a couple last runs...

There was a crowd lining up in front of the chairlifts and Cloud coasted into line with them. He pulled the ski goggles up off his eyes and perched them on his forehead while he waited. There was just enough chill in the air for the bite of it to feel refreshing. The sky was the clearest, deepest blue he'd seen in a long time. He wondered if he could convince Tifa to live on a mountain. Skiers still drank booze, after all.

He was stuck in his wondering long enough that he didn't notice somebody trying to get his attention until the third or fourth time they'd yelled at him. It definitely wasn't Tifa's voice. He turned awkwardly in line to see who'd mistaken him for somebody else but it turned out that his hair was, in fact, very distinctive even on a whole other world.

"Huh?" he said, before realizing who it was.

If the guy tried to get him to sign some contract again, Cloud was going to invent a way to snowboard up the mountain.

-----
Alexander Sorel