Another chapter based on a part in Case of Tifa, this time the section where Tifa tries to come up with a name for their new bar, and (somewhat stupidly) turns to Cloud for help. I'm guessing the conversation went something like this...

(Not actually, but it seems more dramatic if I say that. Enjoy the story, and please review!)


"Awright, take fifteen! That's enough for now!" screamed Barret, before stomping away muttering something about "incompetent city folk don't even know what a goddamn hammer is much less which end to use…"

Pausing to wipe sweat of his brow, Cloud glanced around the construction with a small sprinkling of pride. Construction on their new home and bar was coming along smoothly, and if Barret didn't open fire on the window frames, they'd be done the exterior by the end of the week.

"Hi Cloud," said Tifa, coming to stand beside him. "I need your help."

Cloud struck his 'cocky pose' (which he had copyrighted, so don't you kids try that at home) and met her gaze. "What do you need?"

"A name for the bar," she replied, holding her right hand under her chin as she thought. "I can't think of anything."

Cloud stared blankly. "It needs a name?"

"Of course it does! Now come on, help me think of something."

"How about 'Bar'. That's what it is, right?"

Tifa gasped, "You can't do that! It's so… boring! We need people to want to go to our bar."

Cloud sighed. "Alright then, how do you get an interesting name?"

Tifa slowly began to descend into her own thoughts again. "I dunno, just think of something you like and turn it into a pun."

"Hmmm," mumbled Cloud, lost in his own thoughts now. All the teasing he had endured from Cid over the size of his sword and the perfectly styled shape of his hair had pounded the meaning of pun into his head, but he had never really tried to make one himself.

He started with the basics. What do I like? Tifa. I don't think she'd like that as a bar name though. Silk dresses? Even worse, but that does remind me I need to go to the drycleaners… Seriously? Is that it? Wait, I like bikes! What was that one called from Shinra? Hardy Daytona? That's IT!

"I have an idea," said Cloud, waiting to make sure Tifa was paying attention to him again. When she looked up and smiled, Cloud cracked into a wide grin. "'Hardy Day's Night!'"

Win Strife, just… win.

Tifa didn't seem as impressed, "What?"

"You said make a pun, I did. Don't like it?" he asked, sure she just didn't understand that it was the perfect name.

"Pun's usually mean… something," she said, waving her arms for emphasis. "That makes no sense."

"It does," he retorted.

"Wanna explain how exactly?" Tifa asked, hands firmly locked onto her hips.

"There's a saying in Corel, one Barret always uses. 'It's been a hard day's night.' It's like that, only with a Hardy Daytona in there."

"Oh," said Tifa eyebrows furrowed together. "That's better than I thought, but still too obscure. Think of something else."

"Too obscure? What's your idea then?" Cloud asked.

"I was thinking… 'The Cutting Edge,' since we're the first major bar in Edge. Not bad, huh?" said Tifa, looking at Cloud with a wide smile.

Cloud yawned and put a hand over his mouth, "Not interested."

Tifa stamped her foot and poked an angry finger into his chest. "Oh yeah? Let's hear another from you, make sure it makes sense this time."

She poked him a couple more times, and he swatted her hand away. "Finger! What the hell?"

"Come on hot shot," said Tifa, arms crossed. "I'm waiting. Give me a good bar name."

"'The Finishing Touch,'" said Cloud.

"Oh how self-serving. How about Final Heaven," replied Tifa.

"I'm not entirely certain of the definition of self-serving…" said Cloud, "…but I think that's it. 'Meteor Shots' is much better."

Tifa rolled her eyes, "Yeah, if you want to give every customer post traumatic stress disorder. You do realize Meteor almost killed everyone, right?"

"Oh," he said. "Forgot about that Meteor… Okay then, what's your suggestion?"

"How about 'Last Elixir,'" said Tifa. "You know, promising an alluring and daring night. Not quite the image I had in mind, but it'll work. Certainly bring us good business."

Cloud thought of Tifa selling alluring and daring nights and stiffened noticeably. "No good. It's a misnomer, telling people one thing but giving them another. We'll have a more friendly place."

Tifa stopped to rub the bridge of her nose. "Cloud, we aren't getting anywhere. Maybe we aren't cut out for this."

Come on Cloud! One more name, make it work! "Uh…how about…'Fresh Drinks by the Rotting Pizza?'"

Tifa stopped rubbing her nose and looked at him, square in the eye. "No."

"Yeah, that wasn't very good…"

They both fell into silence, during which Cloud's mind raced to think of the perfect name to suggest, one that'd make her smile again. He couldn't think of anything.

Did a name really matter though? As long as he was with her, what else did they need? They'd make it work, and barring some totally improbable, poorly explained, devastating revival of a malevolence force, they'd stick together forever. Because he loved her.

"The name doesn't matter," he said, reaching out to grab her hand. Sliding his gloved fingers between hers, he smiled. "As long as you're there, I won't go anywhere else. It'll be the end of the line. Because I lo—."

Tifa frowned. "'The End of the Line?' Would that work as a bar name? I guess it might, but…" She trailed off, pulling her hand from Cloud's grip to hold it to her chin. "Maybe I should ask Marlene." Lost in thought, Tifa walked away.

Cloud stayed where he was, watching her mutter to herself as she tried to find Marlene. He didn't say a word, just turned around and went back to his job of nailing window frames together. By Barret's count later that evening, Cloud had broken fourteen of their finest wooden frames because he hammered them too hard.

Cloud never offered an explanation.


Kinda OOC, yeah, but it's already happened. It can't unhappen. That's just be weird. Anyway...

R&R!