Cloud Strife (yourlegacy) wrote in makebelievelog, @ 2014-01-10 17:09:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | cloud strife, tifa lockhart |
Who: Cloud and Tifa
What: Cleaning time!
When: Friday, January 10th
Where: Seventh Heaven
Warnings: None yet.
"Damn it, Zack," Cloud muttered as he banged his knee for the third time in as many minutes on the corner of the small vanity in the three-piece restroom attached to his office. Ever since he had used the ornament to visit his friend in the Lifestream, Cloud had begun to wonder if the other man really were haunting him. The thought distracted him as he ran a towel over his damp hair. Tifa was on her way over to help set up the bar for its reopening, and Cloud was trying to make himself presentable for her arrival. He'd taken a last minute delivery in town and found himself in for more than he'd bargained for, carting packages from a storage room filled with dust and cobwebs to an elderly recipient whose cellar wasn't in much better shape. Meeting Tifa with dirt on his hands and bare arms was one thing; meeting her with cobwebs in his hair quite another.
Ordinarily, cleaning his hair wouldn't have taken long or resulted in collisions with a sink, but Cloud's mind kept drifting back to what Zack had said. He couldn't deny that he did have feelings for Tifa, and although the two had now lived together and raised the orphans together for years, he'd never made a clear advance. The visit with Zack wasn't the first time Cloud had been told he should do something about the way he felt, but it was the first time Zack had overtly threatened consequences if he didn't. Just how far could a ghost stray from the Lifestream?
Frowning and muttering, "This is your fault," just in case Zack could see or hear him, Cloud made a mental note to pick up a new sink, one without cracks threading through the corner, sometime tomorrow. He threw the used towel over the shower door and tugged his customary dark sweater vest over his head, paying almost no attention to the consequences for his wildly spiked hair. A few passes with his fingers loosened the remaining knots in the blond mess, leaving Cloud looking more or less as he did on any other day. He tugged his boots on and zipped them up before he headed downstairs to the main bar area. His sword and armor remained in the office, along with his gloves and the drapes of fabric he customarily wore over his left arm and leg.