"Well then, you sure look like your lookin' for something," the old man said when he saw the spikey haired youth enter. When the young man didn't answer, he smiled wryly, "…or maybe someone."
The little house was situated on a corner of the small town called Kalm. The old man was used to travelers passing through, often mistaking his humble abode for another shop or even an inn. It amazed him how many people coming from Midgar didn't know how to read.
This stranger was different. Old for his age, bright mako eyes shining like a soldier, but with an expression dull as a corpse. A man who had seen too much.
The youngster had stiffened at his last comment, so the old man decided to press his luck.
"Just like a ShinRa lap dog to avoid a question," he rumbled.
"I'm not ShinRa," retorted the stranger in an oddly soft voice. "Just passing through…sorry to bother you." The young man turned tail, his movements almost clumsy as he clambered toward the door.
"You're a part of that terrorist group then," the old man said, stopping the stranger in his tracks. "The one who destroyed that sector in Midgar."
"Look I don't want any trouble…"
"Ah no trouble," chuckled the old man. "I can tell there's more to you than ShinRa propaganda makes you out to be. I'll admit, you're an odd bird…with the eyes of a soldier, the shoulders of a warrior…and the heart of a traveler…a broken one, I might add."
"What do you want?" the young man's jaw clenched, a hand reaching for the ridiculous sword strapped to his back.
"Nothing," laughed the old man. "Humor an old soul, would you? I used to be a traveler myself and I know a lost man when I see one. Ask and I might be willing to point you in the right direction."
The young man let his hands fall back to his sides. "What's in it for you?"
"Procure some items for me and I'll make you a trade."
"For what?"
"For something that will take you exactly where you want to go."