Can you all say "chapter twice as long as the past few"? I finally made one that's half the ideal length. I know last time I said I wanted 3,ooo words apiece, but now that I've done it, I want them longer.

This one was going to be longer, but I decided to save the next part for the next chapter so you'll all be warned about the semi-smut and will be able to skip it if you want. Next chapter will be short and nothing significant will happen, just for those of you who'd rather not read slightly detailed guy-on-guy stuff.

I'm happy with this chapter, and I hope all of you will be too.

Thanks to robertmarilyn, MadzCheesyfied, Product Of A Sick Society, Solo-Strifer, and BMIK. Oh, and Phosphate-Blues. Yes, you're an afterthought today. Sorry.

The sight of this list growing steadily makes me happy!

By the way, no one has called attention to this, but I'm sure it's driving at least one person crazy. The way I have Cid speaking, how sometimes it's "the thing" and sometimes "th'thing"? Well, I do that on purpose. Think about it- do you really pronounce everything the same every time you say it? No. It depends on the emphasis, how you're feeling, the subject of your speech, and tons of other things. So if that's been bugging you, it's explained now.

Once again, no distinction between past and present, except the part before the sub-story resumes (which accounts for most of this chapter, really) and the part that signifies the end of the sub-story for the time being.

There's also not much of a distinction between what's really happening and Cid's daydream, because really, it just melts into what's going on, doesn't it? You don't decide to daydream, it just happens, and when you snap out of it, it's the same thing. I did italicize the text for you, though.

Oh, and actual almost-fluff here!

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or anything Square Enix, don't own the original fairy tale of H&G.

Warnings: Constant references to chocolate (because I really wanted some while I was working on this), Vincent's first kiss (not from Cid or Lucrecia), and Cid thinking about Vincent in inappropriate ways. If you can't handle this stuff, well, it's only gonna get worse. Plus, there's more cursing than usual, and some of it's not even Cid.

Heh. Sorry that took so long. Enjoy!

I wake up on my back next to Vince, with his right arm thrown over me and his claw diggin' into my left shoulder. I can't believe he fell asleep with that thing on.

"Hey Vince, you wanna wake up, man?"

*snort*

"Vince!"

"Huh? Cid? What…oh. Um…I'm…sorry."

"Don't apologize. It'd be nice if y'd let me up, though."

"Of course. I'm sorry."

"I said don't apologize. Be right back. Hey, ya know it's almost ten?"

"Hm."

Back to the silent side of 'im, I guess. Oh well.

I get dressed- my clothes have dried since last night -though they do stink a little-so I put them on again and throw Vincent's in the pile of dirty towels. I walk out, an' he's already changed –into more black- but it's jeans this time instead of leather pants, an' a t-shirt instead o' the button-up dress shirt he'd been wearin'.

"I was thinking of joining Cloud and Tifa for breakfast. Will you be coming with me?"

"I guess."

We leave and head for the Seventh Heaven, which is jus' down the street from the hotel. As we walk in, we hear Tifa yell up the stairs.

"Cloud, pancakes! Come on, you know you want 'em!"

"Okay, okay, just stop yelling already," Cloud says, comin' downstairs in 'is pj's, holdin' 'is head and yawnin'. He looks up and sees us. "Oh, hey guys. You here for the pancakes?"

"Guys?What do you…oh, hey Vince, Cid!" She says, turnin' 'round an' seein' us fer the first time. "Are you guys, um, staying together?" Tifa says, holdin' back a giggle, I think.

I look at Vincent, not sure how he wants me to answer. He answers for me. "I ran into him and mentioned that I was coming for breakfast. I asked him if he'd like to join me, and he did. I trust you don't mind?"

Well, it ain't a lie.

"No, it's not a problem. I wasn't expecting either of you, though…that's four more pancakes…you guys better stake out plates and seats before the kids get up. Oh, I bought more chocolate chips, Vince. You should be able to, -what was it?- 'thoroughly enjoy your breakfast experience' without having to pour chocolate syrup all over your plate."

"But I like the syrup," he says, duckin' his head an' smilin' at me so only I can see he's kiddin'. I have to choke back a laugh, 'cause now that I'm lookin' fer it, I can see more'n'more o' who he coulda been if not fer all the crap that's happened. Or, maybe he jus' feels okay showin' it now that he's gettin' some of it off 'is chest. Either way, the world is missin' out.

We sit down 'cross from each other, an' Cloud sits next t'me, rubbin' his eyes an' grumblin'.

"How's the delivery service goin', Spiky?"

"Meh."

"Okay…how's things goin' with Tifa?"

"Pfft."

"I'm right here, you know. And it's no use talking to him right now; he hasn't eaten yet. It's like trying to talk to a brick wall that issues random sounds at set intervals. You were incredibly lucky to have him greet you. He must have still been sleeping at that point."

"Shu'up."

"See?"

"Hm." I think I like the Cloud I'm seein' now. He prob'ly couldn't say 'let's mosey' if he tried, an' he ain't awake enough t'angst about not bein' any good fer anythin'. Though, he's stopped doin' that, anyway. Guess all he needed was another round o' kickin' Sephiroth's ass.

"Here you go, Cloud. You can have the first one."

"Buh."

"Okay…that's a new one. I'm going to choose to believe it means 'thank you, Tifa, for making me breakfast and letting me stay with you for so long. Thank you so much.' Is that what you meant, Cloud?"

"Yeah. That," he says as he chews, and she jus' rolls her eyes and plops a pancake on my plate.

"Eat up, Captain. So, chips or no chips, Vince?" she calls over her shoulder as she walks away.

"Do you really have to ask? Just…bring the syrup, too, when you head this way, if you don't mind."

"So Cid, how's Shera?" Tifa asks from the stove, where she's workin' on a third cake, prob'ly Vincent's.

"Aw, ya know. Wants kids now, but I really only married her 'cause, well, I felt like I had to. I'm just…not inta her, ya know?"

"I know. You know I know."

"Yeah, I know you kn…shit, whatever. Ya know what I…y'get my point."

She's gigglin' as she flips the pancake onto Vincent's plate an' goes back t'the stove.

"Vincent!" Marlene flies t'ward Vince, her arms held out like she's waitin' fer a hug. He bends down a little t'reach her, an' pulls her onto his lap. She's all giggles 'til she sees me, an' she runs around the table t'attack me the same way. Never been much fer kids, but I'm sorta thinkin' that a hug from Marlene right now is sorta like an indirect hug from Vince, an' I'd kill fer one o' those direct, if I had to, but I guess fer now this'll have ta do.
The fuck am I thinkin', anyway? What'd be the point in killin' somebody for a hug from the man who'd just spent a night spillin' all his secrets to me an' holdin' me in 'is sleep?
I let Marlene go and she starts gigglin' again as she runs back around the table, this time sittin' on the chair next to Vince 'stead o' on 'is lap.

Guess even the nightmare-makin' stories can't scare 'er 'way from Vince. I know how she feels.

Tifa walks back with a plate full o' perfect pancakes, figurin' that'd be easier, I guess, than bringin' 'em one at a time.
"Just, um, make sure Cloud gets at least one more, if you want to leave here knowing we're all safe. Oh, and the chocolate chip ones are, of course, Vincent's. Don't, um, don't touch them."

"Vince, how much syrup you plannin' t'put on there, man?"

"As much as I want to," he growls, an' I laugh. He glares for a minute, then goes back t'loadin' his plate down with chocolate goo. How much chocolate can the guy eat? And fer breakfast, especially!

"Okay. I'm sitting down now. Denzel didn't come down in time; he'll have to fend for himself. Again. As for the rest of you…I'm not getting up again until I'm finished eating, so I hope you're satisfied."

"Thanks, Tifa," we say, even Cloud, who's almost coherent by this point.

He doesn't stay around t'chat with us, though. "I'm leaving. See you later."

"Is he always this polite in the mornin'?"

Marlene giggles again and nods her head. Tifa starts ta laugh a little, too, an' Vincent smiles at the table.

We all finish eatin' an' help Tifa clean up. There's jus' one little thing botherin' me. "Vince, yer face is covered with chocolate. Y'might wanna go wash that before ya'leave the buildin'."

"Thank you," he says, an' blushes a little. I wonder if he's blushin' fer the same reason I am? Don't matter, I guess. Shouldn't be thinkin' things like this 'bout 'im. I know I shouldn't. So why is it I can't shake the thought that I'd sure like t'help 'im get the chocolate off his face?

When he finishes cleanin' 'imself up, we head ta the park 'round the corner, an' he waves 'is hand to tell me to sit on the bench. After I sit, he takes a place next t'me, not too close but not hangin' off the edge o' the bench. I'm gonna take that as a compliment.

"So, shall I continue?"

"If ye're ready to."

"I am. Where was I?"

"You were jus' sayin' how you figured out y'wanted to be a Turk, an' that you were startin' in on more spesh'lized education."

"Hm. You really have been listening."

"'Course I have. Y'really think I wouldn't?"

"I was…never mind." He shakes his head. "Alright, I guess I'll start where I left off."

He sighs an' looks up at the sky. "Looks like it'll rain soon. Do you want to stay here or head back?"

I think fer a minute, and what I really think is that I don't give a shit, personally, but I don't tell him that. Instead- "Well, we don't wantcha getting' interrupted by th'rain, do we? Better head on back now so that don't happen."

"Good idea. Let's go."

"Wait, nevermind. Can we sit here a few more minutes? It's nice."

"If you want. Cid?"

"Yeah?"

"When I'm done, will you tell me about yourself as I'm telling you?"

"If y'really want me to. But I can promise that there's nothin' remotely int'restin' 'bout me. 'Specially compared t'you."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, fer one, you c'n remember stuff from when you were two. I don't remember nothin' like the stuff you've been tellin' me. Plus, I jus' really don't have an int'restin' story."

"Maybe I'm interested anyway."

"Well, like I said, if ya want, I'll tell ya. Not 'til yer done, though."

"Thank you."

"Vince?"

"Vince?"

"Yes?"

"Y'missed a spot."

"Oh, did I? Will you get that for me?"

"You bet I will."

I lean over an' lick the chocolate off his chin, then bring ma tongue aroun' t'his lips. I reach up an' grab his face, makin' 'im stay where I c'n reach. Looks like I don't hafta worry 'bout that, though, 'cause he's kissin' back, an' his lips are soft an' warm an' I c'n still taste the chocolate. I break away t'look at him, make sure it's real.

"Cid?" he asks. "Why did you stop?"

"Oh, Vince," I say, an lean in t'kiss him again. "If y'don't want me stop, I never willm, not ever."

"Cid."

"Yeah, Vince?"

"Cid."

"Huh?"

"Are you…alright?"

"Whaddaya mean?" I ask, blushin' 'cause I think maybe I know 'zactly what he means."

"Well, you kept saying my name, and it seemed like you had something to say. I guess not, if you didn't realize you were doing it. Are you sure you're okay?"

"'C-course I am. Why wouldn't I be? I can't just keep sayin' th'same thing over'n'over again without somethin' bein' wrong with me?"

"Having dirty thoughts, are we?"

"Wha- why would I- hey, yer laughin'? C'mon, man, that ain't funny! Y'shouldn't…fuck. Whatever. Okay, know what? You win. Fine. Whatever. I don't care."

He stops laughin' fer a second when he sees I'm pissed. "…You really were, weren't you?"

"…I ain't answerin' that."

He starts to kinda chuckle, that slight laugh that's usually just an amused noise, but then it rises to a real laugh, like the one I heard last night when he told me about being a sunburned superhero. Yessir, the world is missin' out, alright. But maybe, if this keeps up, it won't be missin' it fer much longer.

"Come on, you can tell me."

"Wha- whatever. Yer really just weird. I know fer sure now. An' anyway, maybe it ain't you. Maybe it's the damn chocolate y'still have all over yer face…ya did that on purpose. Sadistic bastard."

Then, still laughin' a little, he says, "Let's go back. The rain's starting."

"Ignorin' the question, huh?"

An' ignorin' the fact that I jus' admitted to thinkin' 'bout 'im like that, obviously. I always fuckin' tell on m'self. Hate that so much.

"You didn't ask a question. You only made accusatory statements."

"Same damn thing!"

"No, it isn't, or I would have answered your question. In this case, it doesn't exist, so I can't answer it."

I cross m'arms. I think maybe he wins this round, but only 'cause he's a smart smart-ass. I'll get him.

"Fine, whatever. Let's go."

He's still laughin', like a kid. Damn ShinRa.

In th'elevator, he taps his clawed fingers 'gainst the metal support bar. I can't keep my eyes off th'thing. I don't know if it's 'cause it keeps flashin' when he moves it, or 'cause I can still feel where it was diggin' inta ma shoulder las' night.

Back in th'room, he sits first an' waits t'see where I go, I guess. I decide t'hit 'im with 'is own medicine an' sit right next to 'im, on 'is left side.

I can tell he's 'bout t'start talkin', an' I don't wanna distract 'im, but I can't help m'self.

I reach out an' grab the claw lightly, an' start runnin' m'right hand over it while the left starts bendin' th'claw at the fingers, jus' t'see how much he'll fight me. He lets me get away with it fer awhile, an' the whole time I'm doin' it, he's got this amused, half-smile look on 'is face.

He pulls away. I think maybe I made 'im sad or somethin'. He's not lookin' at me; he's lookin' at th'claw.

I watch, confused, as he pulls it off an' hands it to me. I take it an' look fer jus' a second, an' I figure out he thinks I wanna fool with it s'more. I set it on the table an' grab 'is hand the same way I'd grabbed the claw, jus' not movin' m'hands around this time. I pull off the thick glove an' set it next t'the claw.

I take 'is hand again with m'right one, an' lace th'fingers t'gether. He looks at our hands fer a long time, then squeezes m'hand jus' enough fer me t'feel it.

"This okay, Vince?"

He looks away, an' I don't know why. "It's fine."

I start t'let go, thinkin' he's lookin' away 'cause it ain't really somethin' 'e wants, but he ain't willin' t'tell me so.

He squeezes harder. "Don't let go just yet," he half-whispers, half-croaks. Th'only logical explanation I c'n find fer this is perfec'ly illogical, 'cause Vince don't cry. It just don't happen.

Instead o' callin' attention to it, I squeeze back an' get another one in return.

The skin o' the hand I'm holdin' has that feelin' that's almost like the way skin wrinkles after bein' soaked in water fer a long time. I'm guessin' 'e really don't take off the claw very often, much less th'glove. So, I guess it's been soakin' in 'is sweat fer quite a while…but even thinkin' 'bout all that disgustin' shit can't make me wanna let 'im go.

I guess he's calmed down some or somethin', cause he's startin' t'talk again. B'fore 'e gets too far, I haft'ask somethin'.

"You mind if I stay like this?"

"Will you come closer?"

"'bout here?" I ask, scootin' jus' close enough that our shoulders touch.

"That's good, yes. …Thank you," he says, givin' m'hand a good hard squeeze that almost hurts.

"Y'know it ain't a problem."

"Hm." He closes his eyes a minute, then starts where he'd planned to a few times already t'day. "Well, I was eleven when I entered my 'specific formal education'. The fieldwork wouldn't start until I turned fifteen, so I was in a classroom setting until then."

Vince said that he was two years younger'n most o' the kids in 'is classes. He was moved to a new dorm made specifically for the Turks-ta-be. The age range was usually thirteen t'sixteen, an' then there was Vince, eleven an' helpless, an easy target 'cause he had no friends.

Once y'get t'a certain point, random name-callin' jus' ain't a satisfyin' form o' torture anymore. At that point, y'move on ta physical threats, sometimes even actual violence. An' when yer pickin' on someone jus' f'r the hell of it, it's worse 'cause y'ain't got nothin' t'lose, so y'ain't shy about what y'threaten or do.

Yeah, so I was a bully growin' up. But this ain't about me.

The teasin' was still goin' on, an' Vince still didn't see the point in tryin' t'make friends. The change in schools helped a little; it wasn't the same kids still pickin' on 'im, an' there weren't as many. The problem was that it was like an elite group o' kids whose only goal was t'torture th'others in any way they could. Now, Vince bein' the youngest of all of 'em, the dorm split inta two groups over him- the ones out t'beat him up an' break him down mentally an' run 'im out jus' for the hell of it, an' the ones who wanted ta protect him. Sure, two or three were indifferent t'the whole thing, but they mostly sided with Vince when it came right down to it.

He was oblivious fer a long time, he was so excited about 'bein' ShinRa'. He went about his studies like he always did: top o' his class an' in every advanced course he could fit himself into. As a result o' that, he barely spent any time in the dorm, an' that was the only time the 'big kids' could really mess with 'im. Plus, when he was there, he was in his room an' he had a good roommate. He was thirteen before anythin' really happened.

He'd been reassigned over the summer to a new room. The teachers seemed to know what was goin' on', the teasin' an' all, an' they all liked their good student Vince, so they made sure he was assigned t'one o' the guys who'd stuck up fer 'im before. Problem was, somethin' else stuck up fer Vince, so to speak.

Luckily, the guy really was a good person an' 'e didn't try anythin'. But it got t'be pretty obvious after a while, even t'someone as oblivious t'everythin' as Vince.

That wasn't fer a while, though.

That year, Vince started collectin' articles an' stuff his dad showed up in an' puttin' 'em t'gether in a kind o' scrapbook.

He saved every'thin' related t'the ShinRa Science Museum, too, an' any'thin' Turk-related, includin' th'announcements 'bout the risin' stars. He wasn't old enough t'be on that list yet- it was reserved fer th'ones in the next stage o' trainin'- but he kep' 'em anyway 'cause they meant somethin' to 'im. They meant that he could be somethin' one day.

By th'end o' the year, ever'body knew about the book, an' he made his first couple o' friends when people showed up wantin' t'look at it. He wasn't really too thrilled about the attention, but it sorta made him feel good jus' the same that he'd done somethin' people liked.

Over that summer, he took the bus home and got there ta find not only his mom waitin, but his dad as well. He ran to 'is mom first, a little shy around the man he hadn't seen for almos' eight years. They'd written a lot, though, an' his dad was always sayin' how proud he was o' Vince an' how much the instructors who doubled as scientists were always braggin' on what a good student he was.

Now, though, it was awkward t'say the least. He stepped forward an' held out his hand, but changed his mind when he saw the disappointed look on Grimoire's face. He pulled back 'is hand an' held 'is arms out fer a hug, an' Grimoire complied b'fore Vince could change 'is mind. They stayed like that fer so long that Victoria decided to go on inside an' leave 'em alone.

After what was really only a few minutes, the hug broke an' Vince an' Grimoire started walkin' aroun' the yard.

"So, you'll be fourteen in a few months, right?"

"Yeah." Funny t'think o' Vincent sayin' "yeah". Funnier to hear it.

"Guess you don't have a girlfriend, huh? I was already dating your mother at your age."

Vince felt his face heat up. "No, we don't get to spend much time with the girls."

"Oh, but there is one you like, huh?"

"No, that's not it," he said, still blushin'.

Grimoire remembered the incident with the pink dress. People would say that two was too early to tell, but…

"Son, are you trying to tell me that you're, um-"

"I don't know Dad, okay? Can we just talk about something else?"

"Sure. Good job on that last report. I got a copy of it."

Vince calmed down an' jumped back inta the conversation. "You thought it was good? I practically threw it together overnight. How'd you get it?"

"President Shinra-"

"Whoa, whoa, the President read it?"

"Yes, and he was very impressed. He told me he hopes you'll be equally adept at the application of the theories you're studying."

"The President read my paper. The President read my paper."

"That's right," Grimoire said, laughin' a little. "And I've never seen him so impressed by a piece of paper in my whole career."

"…Wait. Dad, you know the President?"

"Uh, 'duh', to use your word."

"No, I mean, you really, really know him? Like, you talk to him and everything?"

"Yes, I do. We're actually fairly good friends."

"No way."

"Yes way." Grimoire frowned a little, hopin' he was keepin' up with the slang. I imagine it woulda looked a lot the frown we see on Vince when he's tryin' t'figure why somethin' he said offended somebody.

"That is SO cool."

"…Really?"

"Ch'yeah!"

Grimoire only stayed fer a few more days. Said he had t'get back t'meet his new assistant. She was real young, jus' a kid really, but s'posedly brilliant. She was still technic'ly a student, but she had so much potential, and the ideas to put it t'use, that they wanted her in the field right away.

"What's her name, Dad? Do you know?"

"Something about the moon…Luna? No, that's not it. Uh…moon…crescent….that's it! Lucrecia. Lucrecia Crescent. She's really only about two or three years older than you, really. Maybe I'll bring her by to visit sometime."

"Yeah, that'd be cool, I guess."

I really wish I coulda known Vince as a teenager. Bet 'e was really somethin'.

Well, Vince spent the rest o' the summer studyin' fer the next school year. He thought once or twice about writing to Calais, his roommate from the year before, but somethin' 'bout th'other boy made Vince a little uncomfortable, so 'e decided not to. Besides, he'd only ever written to 'is dad, an' he kinda wanted ta keep it that way.

Anyhow, the rest o' the summer was borin' an' uneventful an' "not worthy of this discussion."

Goin' back t'school was the only thing on Vincent's mind from the day Grmioire left. He'd had ta wait two an' a half months fer it, but it finally came.

The first day back, he found out he was roomin' with Calais again, since they'd gotten along so well. Vince was overjoyed, even though he thought somethin' was a little off. It didn't matter much to Vince, whatever it was; they were friends, an' he wasn't gonna let that go so easy, since it hadn't come easy.

He was a little sad that that year'd be Calais' last one in the same area. At the end o' the year, he'd be shipped off to some nowhere place (so the rumors said) an' dependin' on whether or not he was good enough, he'd become a Turk at th'end o' three more years' trainin'.

"Hey, Vincent! Come on, we have the same room as last year, too! Let's go put our stuff up, 'k?"

"Sure. Race you."

"No fair, you're way faster!"

"That's the point!" Vince yelled from the top o' the stairs at his friend, who was just standin' there an' shakin' 'is head.

The first few weeks ever'thin' was fine. It was jus' around Vincent's fourteenth birthday that shit started ta pile up.

See, with all the older guys havin' left, an' Vince havin' grown up some, he wasn't in so much need o' constant defense. Most o' the bullies were gone, too, an' that was a plus. But one or two were still haingin' around.

Calais got a bunch o' people he looked to as friends, or that he knew Vince got along with, t'gether in th'den area t'celebrate 'is birthday.

"Happy birthday, Vincent!"

"Uh, thanks, guys. You didn't have to, you know, do anything. I…no, don't give me gifts. I don't…oh, fine. Thanks."

He started openin' the presents an' thankin' the c'ntributor one by one. After presents, there was cake. Vincent's favorite- chocolate with chocolate icing.

"How'd you know?"

Calais scratched the back o' 'is head an' smiled sheepishly. "It's not exactly a secret that you're, like, a chocolate fiend."

"Oh…is it that obvious? Hm. Well, thanks."

After the party, Vince and Calais headed back up to their room.

"Hey, Vincent?"

"Yeah?"

"I kinda had somethin' else I wanted to give you."

"What?"

"Well…can I kiss you?"

Vince never had time to think about stuff like that. He was so naïve that he was sure "Cal" jus' wanted t'kiss 'im on the cheek, like 'is mom used to. He found it a little weird, but he was kinda curious.

"I guess."

"You sure?"

"Sure."

"Well, okay…c'mere."

Vince got closer t'where Calais was sittin' on 'is bed, and his roommate grabbed him –a little roughly- an' pulled Vince onto 'is lap. B'fore he could do anythin', Cal's mouth was on his, his lips movin'. Vince…liked it, but he didn't want anymore. It made him feel dirty.

He pulled away an' stared at Calais, confused an' a little aroused. "What was that about?"

"You said I could."

"I know, but I thought you meant…I didn't know you meant…I'm going to bed. Thanks for the party and the present. Presents. 'Night."

"Hey, Vince, why…oh, shit. That was your first kiss, huh? The guys said it would be, but I figured you must have a girl at home, or something…shit, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It had to be someone, correct? I'd rather it was someone that I care about. I don't know if you knew I did, but…whatever. I'm going to bed."

"I wish," the present-day Vince says, "that I could have somehow saved that first kiss, and several other firsts, for someone else. I regret so many things, and somehow, even with all I've destroyed, the personal regrets are some of the highest ranked. I suppose that makes me selfish."

I tell 'im it don't mean he's selfish, jus' that he's human, but he don't listen ta me.

"We should take a break now, I think."

"Why?"

"For one thing, it's time for lunch. For another, I need you to think carefully about whether or not you want to hear it."

"Well, it's part o' the story, ain't it?"

"It could easily be omitted without making much difference."

"Y'wouldn't even've brought it up if ya didn't wanna talk about it. What's so importantly unimportant 'bout this, anyway?"

"Lunch."

"But-"

"I'm hungry. We're eating."

"Ohh-kaaay."

"That's right. Where should we go?"

"Yer the one who's hungry. You tell me. The hospital?"

"Cid, I am NOT a vampire."

"An' I s'pose y'ain't grouchy when yer hungry, either."

"Oh, I'll admit to that."

"Do it then."

"I just did."

"Nuh-uh."

He glares at me. I ain't scared o' that glare no more, 'cause I know it don't mean shit when it's directed at me. "Let's just go. Give me my claw."

"'Kay. Let's go fer lunch. Whaddaya say 'bout pizza?"

"No."

"…I guess fast food's out too, huh?"

"That's right. I know a place. If it's the bill you're worried about-"

"Naw, it ain't that. An' don't offer ta pay. I'm payin', if anythin'."

...something in my head just snapped, and the soundtrack to Les Miserables (I mourn the lack of accent mark keys on my computer) is now playing in my head. Is that relevant to this story? No, it is not. It is, however, the best musical ever, in my opinion.

Anyhow...thanks for reading, and all that jazz. More is on the way, but this chapter's my personal favorite for a while.

-PfenixB P.S. I'm thinking of changing my pen name. Yup, I think I will.