Wow, I have to thank you for the lovely reviews! I'm glad people liked the story… and Vincent's outfit too. ^^ I'm enjoying writing this story, and I hope you guys enjoy reading as much as I have writing. Thanks again!

"Then tell that %@$#er to get his own chair, for he sure ain't getting mine," the occasional customer hisses, brandishing the knife at me. I take a step back, but before I can do anything else a shadow has whisked past me. I blink, and the occasional customer is dangling from someone's grasp by his throat. It is a familiar grasp, although I cannot say that I have been victim to it personally, thank Odin. A familiar, golden clawed grasp. Vincent doesn't look entirely sober himself, but he is holding the now wheezing and spluttering man firmly.

"Leave her alone. Do not lay a finger on her. At least she has the courtesy to serve you when the time comes. She must have more patience and civility then most others," he says softly. But there is no trace, no ounce of gentleness in his tone. It is the voice of one who means business, but in a dangerous sort of way. Silent but deadly was rather fitting in this case.

Every inch of tension throughout my body disappears and I relax, the crisis neatly avoided. The man can do little but grunt and struggle in Vincent's grasp. Even before I can open my mouth to tell Vincent to let the man go he has, almost as if he heard my thought. The man falls to the floor, clutching at his throat. Other then a slightly red area on his neck, there is no visible damage. After a few moments, he curses loudly before storming out of the bar. There goes one of my customers, but one I don't mind losing, if truth be told.

I see my regular customer shoot Vincent a look, a look solely reserved for 'drinking buddies', I suppose you would call them. Obviously Vincent has won his respect. Vincent nods once in acknowledgement before seating himself back at his seat on the other side of the room. Within a few moments, talk resumes and everything goes back to normal. After supplying drinks to a few more people, I go over to Vincent, sitting beside him. He seems to have gone into a trance, staring at something which I cannot see. I touch him lightly on the arm and he starts, looking at me, an almost flustered look in his crimson eyes.

"Thanks for helping me earlier," I whisper out of the earshot of the rest of the customers. He nods in response. Really, he is impossible. Looking into his eyes, I can tell that the alcohol is starting to get to him. Even Vincent Valentine, Turk extraordinaire, experiment to the scientist Hojo, cold, dark and handsome Vincent still gets affected by alcohol. It's a good thing to know.

Perhaps he is just oblivious to that fact as he orders another whiskey, pushing some coins into my palm. I shrug, preparing the whiskey and slide it across the bench to him, before sitting opposite him. "How have things been since we saw you last? What have you been doing with yourself?"

After a few minutes, I resign to the fact that he isn't going to answer me, so it surprises me when he clears his throat and speaks, in a voice that sounds more guttural and less Vincent-like.

"I have been endeavouring in the task to restore the Nibelheim mansion to a somewhat more inhabitable place," He pauses in his statement to take a delicate sip from his whiskey glass. "That and travelling around. Nothing productive. What about you and Cloud?"

The statement seems rather long for him, and so I let him get away with the question without complaint. After all, it was probably a rather strenuous task for him to say as much as he did previously, so I respond to his question rather extensively. "Well, Cloud and myself… we haven't married or anything yet. I suppose we're still considering the situations and circumstances surrounding Meteor and Sephiroth, and personally I don't think neither Cloud nor I are ready for that commitment yet. But we moved here and set up a bar, as you can see. He's taken to being the local monster hunter around the area, especially with what's been happening recently. Have you heard about it?" A pause, before a small shake of the head. "Basically there's been a creature, or maybe more then one, that have taken to attacking the chocobos down near the farm, both wild and tame. A few days ago there were two found dead in the stables, and one wild one not too far away. So he's been hunting down and killing all the monsters around the area, basically, so hopefully we can stop it before people get hurt,"

He nods, and suddenly I realise that he is beginning to get that almost glazed look that most people get when they have had too much alcohol. It has only been a few glasses, but then again, it was of the strongest whiskey that is actually in the bar, so perhaps that was what was doing it. "Perhaps you should slow down on the alcohol intake, Vincent," I suggest tactlessly. He doesn't seem to pick up on my sarcasm, merely shrugging his shoulders in a motion which could mean anything or nothing at all, before drinking the rest of the whiskey and in one swift motion, standing up. Unfortunately, the alcohol in his system doesn't agree to that, and he immediately grips the bench for support.

"Vincent?" He looks up sharply at my voice, before he makes a slight face, and I realise that the sharp movement would probably have done nothing for his head. "There's a spare room at my- our house. Would you like to stay there for the night? You look in no condition to get to the inn from here,"

"It isn't that far," he says simply. Even with those few words I can hear the slight waver in his voice which was never there before. I shake my head. "It's fine, no burden whatsoever. In fact, I would be honoured if you would stay,"

A bit far-fetched, but he doesn't protest. Simply shrugging that useless shrug before slumping onto the stool again, eyes shut. Glancing at the clock, I realise that we should probably close up anyway. There was no way I was planning to keep the bar open all night, and midnight seemed like a reasonable closing hour. At my polite request, everyone slowly clears out, leaving just Vincent and I in the room. "Come on," I urge, touching his arm again. This time, he visibly flinches, looking at me with an expression that I am unable to read. I drop my hand, but continue speaking. "Let's get out of here. There is no way that I am going to haul your unconscious body back to my house, so you had better walk with me now,"

Getting unsteadily off the stool, he stands, and slowly walks to the door where I am standing. Opening the door, I hold it open for him and gesture for him to follow me, which he does, but in a rather awkward movement as opposed to the almost gliding he usually did in AVALANCHE. The alcohol must really be getting to him. When we reach the house, with the single light on the doorstep, I unlock the door and let him in. He looks around, before his crimson eyes, still visibly glowing in the near-darkness, suddenly flicker shut, judging by the red glow disappearing. I turn on the lights to the living room, and show him to where he will be sleeping, indicating the location of the bathroom and various other necessities on the way. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable,"

A pause, then a short nod as he walks to his room, but not before his voice drifts softly around the corner. "Thank-you, Tifa,"