Flirting With Death: Night at the Mansion

Tifa's eyes slowly fluttered open, and she felt her face pressed against something hard and smelling of pine. She found herself sitting up and stretching somewhere between reality and dreamland, and as her eyes began to focus, she realized that she had fallen asleep on the desk in the back room. She pushed herself from the object and stood slowly on cramped legs, stretching until she heard a bone in her back make a cracking sound. She wondered how long she had been sleeping.

Setting down the book on marine life that she'd been reading, she straightened her clothes and glanced down the hallway; Vincent was nowhere to be seen. She gathered that she must have done more than nod off slightly. She made for the end of the hallway, breaking into a run when she noticed the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. She jumped up beneath it, swiping at the beaded strand hanging from the switch, and landed with a loud 'thud' in the center of the lab before dashing out and down the basement hallway.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Tifa swung her leg up and over the high, stone opening of the passageway, climbing out and onto the top floor of the mansion. She dusted herself off and closed the secret doorway before turning to dash from the room. In her hurry, she almost didn't notice the man sitting in the chair next to her, and she nearly tripped over his leg. Once again, Tifa Lockheart was scared senseless.

"Agh!" she screamed, frustrated at the unexpected appearance of her quiet friend. Vincent's eyes remained trained on the contents of his book as he lifted an eyebrow. For all she knew, the gesture was directed at something he had read, but she admonished herself anyhow; in the last several hours, she had taught herself to know otherwise. She gave up all hope that he'd not noticed her embarrassing outburst and her clumsy stumble, being as observant as she'd known him to be.

She took a small step towards him and bent down to look at the cover of his book. There was no label that she could find on the front, so she shifted her eyes to the binder, still finding no label. A teasing grin played upon her face, and she decided to try one of his own tactics; she would ask him indirectly.

"That must be an interesting book," she ventured. "It sure has gotten a lot of your attention today."

Something she had said had caught his interest, for he lifted his eyes from the book to question her with his passive gaze, an unintentional, piercing scrutiny behind them.

Tifa's grin turned to a self-conscious frown. "What?"

Vincent closed his book and crossed his arms in front of him. "...Are you lacking for attention?"

Tifa felt her cheeks flush pink at the smirk she imagined was hiding behind that red collar of his. "No!" she exclaimed. "I mean..." she quieted her voice, "no. I'm fine..."

She trailed off, thinking that she must seem very childish to him. Tifa had a history of confidence in her actions, and a strong will. However, when left alone with Vincent, she could be made to feel foolish quite easily. It was a power that came naturally to him, and Yuffie could testify to it (though she had been very childish). Tifa had always felt that she was under evaluation when around Vincent, whether it be in battle, or clinging to Cloud the morning before their descent into North Crater. Of course, her little crush had been apparent to everyone at that time, and if he saw her carrying on with Cloud right then, she was sure he would probably think as little of it still.

This was not something he did intentionally, but he was toying with her.

And he was enjoying it.

"You make a great deal of noise for one girl."

"Hmm?" She looked up at his sudden interruption of her thoughts. "Oh. I guess I do talk too much."

"I was referring to the elephant herding downstairs." He was smirking again.

Tifa remembered her recent use of the library as a jungle gym; the running, the jumping, and... the landing. "Ah...that was nothing. I'm good..." She continued to blush in embarrassment.

"...You were not re-arranging the furniture, then?"

She let out an insulted puff of air. "I'm sure, Vincent."

Vincent noticed the expression of hurt that was beginning to grow on her features as she stood there, unmoving, and staring at the stone patterns on the passageway. He decided then, that he had done enough in the way of teasing her. He simply nodded to himself and rose from his chair. "Come." His voice was soft, yet it left no room for opposition. "Let me take you to your room."

Tifa put her humiliation behind her and followed him across the hallway overlooking the ballroom, hoping that she wouldn't do anything else to embarrass herself. As they crossed the walkway, she looked back down at the entrance where she had come in, realizing he had closed the door she had left unmistakably open. If she had known she was walking into somebody's home, she might have been more courteous. "Oh!" she cried out, remembering one more detail. "I forgot about Mayonee! She-"

"...is behind the mansion." He finished her sentence with indifference, as if it was only a matter of fact, and not a show of his own hospitality.

"...Out back?" she questioned.

"In the stable."

"Oh." She lacked for anything more intelligent in the way of confirmation.

They continued walking together in awkward silence for a while, passing into the west wing of the house. The entire mansion looked different, she thought, in the light of the setting sun. The greenish tint on the walls became an even sicklier green, though she hadn't thought it at all possible. She had been so busy in her silent reverie that she almost bumped into Vincent when he stopped abruptly in front of her and simply stated, "We have arrived."

Tifa walked around to his side, and he stepped back to allow her passage into the room. She was willing to graciously accept his offer, until she recognized her surroundings. "Vincent?"

"Yes?"

"Isn't this your room?"

Vincent had been purposeful in his selection, but he couldn't help but step in after her to make a false inspection of the quarters, as if he was trying to confirm a possible error. "So it is," he concluded, straightening himself and turning to face her at the end of his brief mockery.

Tifa ignored the jest. "I can't stay here!" She placed one hand on her hip as the other flew into the air in an incredulous motion, falling to clap at her thigh. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"...Is it very important to you?" His voice was soft, suspicious, and not mocking in tone. Perhaps, he thought, Tifa might fear his return to his casket.

She sighed in frustration. "Vincent, I can't do that."

Silence.

"It's not really fair to you, you know."

More silence.

"Look. I can just make up this bed over here, and you can sleep across the hall from me..." She tilted her head as she said this, an expression on her face that told of the simplicity of the solution. She then turned on her heel and headed to the room across the hall where the safe was located. She was about to start making the bed for herself, when she heard his soft voice drifting to her from across the hallway.

"I would not trust the linens left to this building if I were you..."

Tifa went back out into the hall and met with Vincent's resolute gaze.

"You will sleep here tonight." It was said with the same intonation that he'd used before, when he'd told her to follow him. It was a command, rather than an offer.

She sighed in apparent defeat. "Where will you sleep, then?"

"...I have some reading I would like to finish."

'Clearly,' she thought to herself. 'He must really be into that book...'

"I will be across the hall." His sentence cut into her thoughts once again, but it put her somewhat at ease. It was information he hadn't needed to tell her, but had volunteered for her benefit. To her, it meant that she knew where to find him, in case she should need anything. And she appreciated it.

"Okay." She smiled a little, unknowingly, and turned to watch him as he walked away. As soon as he was out of sight, she began to give the place a closer examination, since she would be sleeping there that night. The candles had been lit, and their warmth countered the darkness of the room nicely. Thin, transparent, black curtains covered the view from the window; Tifa hadn't noticed them before, and she wondered if they had been drawn behind the heavier drapes when she'd previously visited the room.

The sunlight shone through the thinner curtains, casting eerie shadows over the room, one thin, horizontal line of orange stretching across the bed and down to the floor, directly beneath the window. Somehow, she no longer found it oppressive; the shadows seemed to contribute to the atmosphere set by the soft glow of the candles, and complimented the smells of spice and pine. Tifa was about to remove her boots when her stomach let out a fierce growl.

Vincent was an elusive man at times. He was ever-present and ever-loyal in battle, but it was a completely different story when she needed something to eat. Tifa searched the house high and low, but she found no trace of him. She'd expected to be able to detect the sound of his boots as well as she had earlier that day, since they were no longer on a crowded airship with a loud-mouthed captain and an even louder-mouthed ninja (but not quite as foul-mouthed). She'd had no such luck; she knew she wouldn't hear him if he wasn't moving, in any case. Her stomach growled even louder in protest, and she hoped she would find him soon.

After she had searched all areas of the house beyond the wing she had emerged from, she eventually gave up pursuing him. 'Maybe if I fall asleep, I'll forget about it...' she thought, not really believing it. She trudged up the staircase and had started on the left walkway towards her room, when she stopped dead in her tracks, staring straight ahead.

In front of her lay the conservatory; in the middle of the conservatory stood Vincent Valentine, his back to her, watching the plants in all of their still, silent glory.

'Aha. Right. I should have known.' Tifa narrowed her eyes in frustration. 'How very Vincent of you. How. Very. Vincent. Indeed.'

Now, she was in no way about to toss her ungrateful complaints at Vincent, no matter how she might crave venting on him. She might as well have yelled at a brick wall; though it would make her feel better, it wouldn't help the situation at all. He hadn't gone out of his way to inconvenience her; in fact, he'd done just the opposite by providing her a place to stay, and the nicest room in the house at that. At the very least, she could take joy in the fact that she'd finally found him.

"Vincent..." she called softly.

"...The refrigerator is in the room next door." His voice was soft, passive and disinterested, as always.

She frowned, realizing that she'd searched the entire house for something that lay across the hallway from the place she'd started from. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Since I left you to yourself." In short, he had been there the entire time she'd been searching for him. Something in his voice told her he wanted her to get on with her meal and leave him alone; she should have guessed as much. Then she realized something.

Vincent had always had an uncanny sense of hearing. There was no doubt in her mind that this trait of his, combined with his meditative state, had clued him in on the noises her stomach had made. And he'd known exactly what she'd been looking for the entire time upon her return. So, Vincent found amusement in her search, did he? Even that didn't annoy her so much as the fact that she'd tried to set herself up in the room where the appliance was located, and had failed to take notice of it when it was right in front of her.

She fought the urge to stomp her way across the hall. 'Haha. Very funny...'

Tifa bent down to open the small refrigerator in the next room, noticing the microwave that sat on the floor, also plugged into the wall. As she inspected the contents of the chilled box, she idly wondered if the mansion was powered by a generator, since it seemed Vincent mostly used candles to light his house. Inside the refrigerator, she found a large container of water, a bottle of opened wine, and a carton of milk. She raised her eyebrow slightly when she saw some teabags sitting in the door. There were also a couple of peaches, and some dry cereal. After thinking it over, she decided on the cereal.

She grabbed the box from the refrigerator, noting to herself that she would have to ask Vincent why he kept his cereal in the refrigerator, not to mention his teabags. She would have poured herself a bowl full, but she quickly realized that she was absent a bowl, not to mention a spoon. Rather than search the entire mansion to look for a bowl, when it might very well be in the next room, she decided to grab a peach instead, and she returned the cereal to its previous place. Unfortunately, she also wanted something to drink, though she hated to bother him when she figured he would like to have some time to himself.

"Vincent?" Tifa poked her head out from the doorway to the room. "Ah...do you by any chance have a glass?"

"My apologies; it seems the house is lacking in some aspects." He was still facing away from her. He made no move to aid her, so she assumed he had meant, 'Sorry, I have no glasses,' rather than, 'I apologize for not offering you one.'

"Well...what should I do about the milk?"

"...It is in a carton." It was the first time she had heard a pronounced inflection from him that day.

"That..." she countered, mimicking said inflection, "is quite unlady-like." She received no answer, and after waiting around for a minute and a half, she returned to the room. Shrugging, she tossed back the carton of milk, and drank just enough to satisfy herself. She called to him, "Hey, have these peaches been washed?"

She heard nothing for a while, and then there was a faint, "They are clean," from around the corner. Satisfied, she took a bite of one, before realizing that she'd probably been swapping old spit with Vincent's milk carton, since he lived by his lonesome. She decided, in light of her situation, that it really was no big deal.

When she returned to the hallway, Tifa took some time to study Vincent's form. He hadn't moved from the spot he'd been in the entire time, and she was beginning to wonder what could hold his attention for so long. "I've got a question for you."

He waited.

She cleared her throat and went on. "Where do you buy your food? I mean, since there's no one here..."

He was slow in his reply, as if he was distracted by something. "...Rocket Town."

Tifa's face lit up. "Oh! So you see Cid and Shera a lot?"

"...No."

She tilted her head in question. "Why not?"

He remained silent.

"All right. You don't have to answer that one if you don't want to. I have just one more, though." She crossed her arms smugly, as if it was her turn to scrutinize his own habits, as if she had caught him in an oddity that she could exploit to her revenge. "Why do you keep your cereal and your tea bags in the refrigerator?"

"That room...could be cleaner." His voice was still soft, but he was beginning to grow weary of her questions; he hoped that a small bit of that might show through, so he wouldn't need to send her to bed himself.

Tifa made a face when she thought about cobwebs and dust mites near the food he ate, and she understood the reasoning behind his strange storage habits. "And...no mug for your tea?"

"I have one mug."

"Which you failed to mention." She frowned.

"...You had asked for a glass."

"Ah," she replied, in mock understanding, and true annoyance.

"It is getting late," he remarked at last. Tifa took this as a sign that he wanted to be left alone for a while, and she felt a bit ashamed that she'd barged in and stolen his solitude from him. She took the opportunity to traverse the rest of the hallway.

Tifa shut the door until only a crack of empty space was visible. She then walked around the room, snuffing out the small flames of the four candles that were opposite the bed. She removed her shoes, and placed her jacket on the left bedpost at the head of the pinewood frame. Then she climbed into Vincent's bed.

She eagerly buried herself beneath the soft, cool, satiny fabric, revelling in the way it felt against her bare legs; the sheets were still a bit chilly, despite being under the velour blankets all day, but she was able to heat them up in time. Eventually, the light left the sky; once she was comfortable, she sat up on her knees and turned to face the window, snuffing out the remaining two candles and leaving herself in the dark. She turned around again and immediately relaxed; as she was falling to the fluffy pillow below, she bumped her head on the windowsill.

Vincent was still in the conservatory, when a loud, "Ouch!" was brought to his attention. He walked briskly to Tifa's room to see what had happened; when he arrived there, he opened the door to reveal a slightly dazed Tifa rubbing her head and wincing. All Tifa could make out, other than his sillhouette against the dim light pouring over her from the hallway, were two red eyes glinting at her in the dark.

She jumped at the sight of him, shouting, "Vincent Valentine! Do you enjoy sneaking up on me?"

He stood there, unblinking, amused by the scene. To his credit, he managed not to laugh aloud as he turned back into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. And to his credit, he left that crack of empty space between them.