A gruff voice spoke up, as steely eyes surveyed the damage.
" The whole tail-end looks like Jenova's withered tit! How'd the fuck did that happen?...And where's my GODDAMN TEA?!"
Cid Highwind nearly jumped out of his skin as a steaming mug suddently materialized, right in front of his face. Resisting the urge to clamp his hand over the spot on his chest where his heart was now pounding like a herd of running Chocobos, he instead grabbed the proffered cup, casting a sour sideways look at the bearer.
" Blast it all!" He said, disgruntedly. " Do ya hafta to be such a spooky son of a bitch?"
Vincent Valentine did not deign to answer, simply returning the look with a thoroughly impassive one of his own, before turning his head slightly to gaze at the jumbled mess of metal and rubber in front of them.
It was a bicycle. A child's bicycle, to be exact. Though at the moment, it looked more like something that had been squeezed by a giant fist. It seemed oddly out of place, forlornly sitting there in the middle of the pretty, walled courtyard that Tifa had created as a private retreat at the back-alley of the Seventh Heaven. Like too much of a reminder of the heaping ruins that once used to be the thriving city of Midgar.
" I trust you can fix it?" Vincent asked, his monotone voice sounding far too solemn for the situation at hand. But then again, Vincent always sounded like that.
Cid took a sip of the tea, letting out another string of curses as he scalded his tongue with the liquid. " Off course I can fix it, goddamnit!" He snapped, transfering the hot cup to his left hand so he could use his right to fish out a cigarette from the ever-present pack tucked inside one of the pockets of his cargo pants. "Ain't nothin' to it." He continued, now fishing out his lighter. There was a soft click, followed by a deep inhaling sound. " Aaaaah...Yep, I'll have this bitch up an runnin' in no time. I'll even slap a brand new coat of pain on her." He finished.
From the other side of the mini-wreckage, two little faces lit right up.
" You mean it, Cid? You really can fix it?" Denzel asked, excitedly.
" And you'll paint it too?" Marlene chimed in. " Can it be purple? I love purple!"
" Ya betcha, sweets." Cid replied, cigarette dangling from his lips, bobbing up and down with every word yet, somehow, miraculously not falling.
" Come on! Let's go tell Tifa." Denzel said, grabbing hold of Marlene's hand.
As the kids came around and then headed back into the bar's dim, cool interior, Cid allowed himself a feel-good grin. It didn't last long. Because only a few moments later, Marlene and Denzel's high-pitched voices could be clearly heard through the opened doorway.
" He's gonna fix it!"
" Yeah! He said he'll have that bitch up and running in no time!"
" Even if it now looks like Jenova's withered tit!"
" And he liked the GODDAMN TEA!"
" Erm...and what's a tit?"
The silence that followed caused Cid to nervously run a hand through his hair. "Shit," he muttered. " Don't know how many times Tifa's asked me to watch my mouth around them kids. But Goddamnit, I just ain't used to being around the little buggers! How'da fuck am I s'posed ta remember?" He started to turn his head, in order to glance at his companion. " Well, at least I won't hafta suffer the lecture alone this ti..."
Vincent Valentine was gone.
Cid let out a resigned sigh, his face twisting into a grimace as he heard the ominous sound of Tifa's hard-soled sneakers, approaching at a rapid clip.
" Aw, hell..."