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Cloud Strife and Vincent Valentine
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Date Posted: 09:36:19 01/06/02 Sun
Vincent sheds his clothes with a remarkable lack of self-consciousness and steps into the shower two away from Irvine's, drawing the rough burlap curtain behind him. Had anyone been there to see, they would have noted that Vincent's pale skin is criss-crossed with scars, pink and white across his skin. Some of them are Turk stories, bad luck in a knife fight, or a mission gone wrong. But most of them are stories of torment at the hands of a deranged mad scientist with few, if any, ethics to speak of.
Working the showers is familiar to him, and Vincent's hands find the spigots easily, releasing a fall of warm water. He adjusts the temperature automatically and then his hands search out the soap. The soap here at Cosmo Canyon is very strong; liable to peel off your skin alnog with the dirt. But it does a good job of getting you clean, and he takes his time, working it into his hair, too. After he is clean, he simply stands under the water and lets it wash the soap and grime away, idly wishing that it could do the same for some of his memories and nightmares and dreams.
Stop pitying yourself, he tells himself viciously, and for a moment anger flares up deep and red and fanged. He clamps down on it. No use getting angry. Anger only brings the demons out. Anger accomplishes nothing. He turns off the water and reaches for his towel, hanging on a conveniently-placed rack outside his stall.
He had not really been angry at Lian. Merely. . . contemptuous? No, that is not the word, either. It had been that feeling of mind your own business, one that had been felt often when Vincent had still been head of the Turks, faced with nosy passersby and busybody secretaries. Some things he does not miss about the Shinra. But he is not so easily stung (he had made the mistake of caring too much, once, and it will never happen again), and it had merely been a passing flare of irritation.
The water chills on his skin as he towels himself off. If he listens carefully, he can hear them talking outside--something about breakfast, and he can hear the muffled sounds of the women having some little chat of their own over on the other side. He does not exert energy trying to pick out specific sentences; it has nothing to do with him, after all. The towel goes on the floor of the shower to signify that it has been used, and then he dresses himself.
Vincent looks strangely natural in the buckskin breeches and jacket and the wool shirt. A few feathers in his hair and a tan on his skin, and he can pass for a native were it not for his jewel-red eyes. Not that he knows this, of course. He idly reminds himself to find something to die his hair back later, and then goes out to join the others--
--where Cloud is still elaborating on the kind of breakfast he wants, much to the bemusement of his listeners. "--and flatcakes with lots of honey and jam, and sausages, and scrambled chocobo egg--ooo, no, an omelette! With two eggs! And mushrooms and peppers and cheese and--oh, hey, Vin. Ready? We're going to go for breakfast!"
Vincent shrugs. It's all the same to him. Actually, a good meal does sound very appetizing. That fine dinner seems a very long time ago.
"Great!" Cloud enthuses, as if Vincent had actually said something. He's out the door while Vincent lingers to write a note asking them to launder their clothes. Hopefully they'll have a way to clean their suits here without ruining them.
The restaurant is a simple affair, with wooden tables and chairs and booths hewn from the rock. There is also a bar in the corner, with a bartender behind it busily wiping glasses. Cloud selects one of the wooden tables and plunks down in a chair while a pretty young waitress comes over to serve them, dealing menus to all of them. "I'm supposed to offer you a "Cosmo Candle," but it's a bit early for a cocktail," she says with a captivating laugh. "So, anything to drink?"
OOC: If you had anything to say/do before leaving the room, then just say/do it and then join Cloud in the restaurant. Sorry for the autos, but I thought it was best if I got us into the restaurant as quickly as possible. ^^ Smack me and ignore this if you think I was out of line. Boy, I should really replay FF7.
Gawd, that was long.
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