Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII still does not belong to me. Wheeee.

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It wasn't the sting of saltwater lapping against several abrasions on his face that dragged Cloud back to consciousness, nor the sensation of being pulled out of the ocean onto a solid surface—it was the succession of swift, smarting blows that were delivered to the sides of his face after his rescuers had ascertained that he was still alive.

"You idiot!" The voice—shrill and female—was vaguely familiar. "What were you thinking, summoning the Knights of the Round on the plane?! They chopped it to bits! We did crash, and it's all your fault! I oughta—hey!"

The shadow that had fallen over him abruptly withdrew, and grudgingly he opened his eyes, wincing as the sun dazzled them.

He was on an inflatable raft of some kind, judging by the squishy orange walls positioned to either side of him. Frowning, he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up to his knees. Looking round, he saw that the source of the voice—Yuffie—had been subdued by a pokerfaced Vincent; Cid was sulking at the prow of the boat, apparently deaf to the world. His back to the group, a strange man was seated by the far wall, grumbling angrily underneath his breath.

"Sit down, Yuffie. You'll overbalance the boat."

This statement was fairly contradictory, as Vincent himself had risen to his feet to pull her away from their dubious leader. Yuffie, however, chose not to remark upon this fact as, muttering, she yanked her arm out of his grasp and stalked towards the bow of the small craft. (En route she stumbled on the yielding floor and nearly capsized the raft, much to the chagrin of the strange man—he reanimated with a squeal and barked out an invective that drew a surprised look from Cid.)

Cloud meanwhile leaned against the partition nearest him and, shrugging his left arm out of his sleeve, began to wring out the fabric. Underneath the sun, it was already starting to dry and cake up with salt. He scowled, then paused and glanced at Vincent as the older male sunk back onto the floor. The man should have been as bedraggled as he was. There was no trace of saline on either his clothing or his hair, however, and he did in fact appear to be perfectly groomed.

For that matter, so did everyone else.

Blinking furiously, he poked his arm back through his sleeve and snapped his fingers to attract the attention of the others. "Err...this might sound an insignificant question given our current situation, but...how are you guys clean right now?"

"Insignificant, hell yes!" snorted Cid, turning halfway to glance back at him, then shrugged. "Aaron over there waved his hands and did some kinda ritual. Said somethin' about cleansing us."

"We," the strange man, now identified as Aaron, sniffed, "were filthy."

Cloud's brow furrowed. "Hey, wait. I know you!" he said sharply, eyes narrowing. "You're that flight attendant that wanted to chuck us out of the plane!"

Bristling, Aaron swung around to glare at him. "Head steward! Head steward!" he cried indignantly, his voice cracking on the last word. "Not a mere flight attendant!"

"Whatever. It's your fault we're in this mess!"

"Are you kidding? I didn't summon the knights that ripped the plane apart. So, no. It's your fault, not mine, and don't you dare try to shove the blame off on me." Cloud opened his mouth to protest, but Aaron had already turned his back, pulling his legs up to his chest and settling his chin on his knees with an air of finality.

".. right," Cloud said after a pause, glancing imploringly at Cid. "Where'd the boat come from?"

"I found it!" Yuffie interrupted smugly. "It was floating around with the bodies and bits and pieces of the plane. It's one of the emergency life-rafts they kept onboard, I guess. And it's mine, so don't even think about making off with it."

".. Yuffie. We're in the middle of the ocean. Do you honestly think I could steal it if I wanted to?"

"You could toss me overboard in the middle of the night!" she said defensively, then paused and squinted at him. ".. oho. Was that what you were planning, then?"

Cloud looked to the others for help, but none was forthcoming; Aaron obviously wasn't about to speak in his defence, and Vincent appeared to have tuned them out. Cid was listening attentively, though he was snickering—there wasn't much assistance to be found there. "No! God, Yuffie—"

"Don't lie to me!" she snapped, the squint evolving into a glower. Then, inexplicably, she announced in a thick Texan accent: "That's my raft! I don't know you!"

Before he had time to wonder at the relevance of this statement, she'd jabbed a green materia at him and shrieked: "Stop!"

As Cloud froze, Aaron glanced over his shoulder and chuckled darkly. "Serves you right," he muttered underneath his breath, plucking his glasses off his nose and beginning to buff them against the front of his suit jacket. "Filth."