PROLOUGE
"Fromage du chat, mon amigo," Cloud said, leaning in with his barrette tilting dangerously far to the side.
"Oh, Cloud, you're so romantic… What exactly does that mean?" asked the red head to his right.
"'You're beautiful, my dear'," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Oh, read me a poem, pleeease!" The girl cried, putting her had on his, which sat on his upper thigh.
"But Marie, my dear, my poems are not worthy of your perfectly gorgeous ears," Cloud said modestly, ducking his head.
"I think your poems are beautiful… especially the French ones." Marie's eyes looked pleading, and Cloud sighed with obviously-fake reluctance.
"Alright, alright," he said, and pulled a paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and began to read:
"Buttercup, les fleurs du France,
Your petals make me sing and dance.
Les fromage et tengo,
Avec muchos baguette mango."
"That was beautiful!" Marie cried, pressing her face against Cloud's. "You're a poet and you didn't even know it!"
"If only that were true…" Cloud said, sighing melodramatically. "I'm so sad."
"Hey, Cloud! What's up?" Tifa called from across the courtyard, hand held beside her mouth to aim her call.
Cloud mumbled and motioned subtly for her to go away. Tifa tilted her head, then rolled her eyes and strolled across the grass towards them, making Cloud signal more violently.
"He's just doping you. All he really wants is to get in your pants." Tifa explained to Marie, who looked shocked and scurried away.
"Merde." Cloud said with fake misery and a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Tifa punched him hard in the gut, rolled her eyes again, and promptly walked away.
Authors Note: AAAAAAANNNNNDD thus begins the tale of interest. Please keep an eye out for updates!