Junon Harbor was no stone's throw away, but it wasn't too far that he couldn't make it there within a couple of days. Still, the hospitality of Fort Condor was among the best in the world, with Gold Saucer at first place. He stood in the one-bedroom compartment, carved out of the giant anthill as so many other homes were. He took in the craftsmanship with one glance before he bent his head to the infernal buckles in his armor. He hissed distastefully before working at them, thinking of the day's events, and most of all the most troubling possibility.
Someone was following him.
One heavy bit of his armor came loose. He tossed it with a clatter into a chair next to the standing lamp. Sephiroth was almost positive that whoever was tracking him along his journey, was very good at it. In fact, so good that it had taken him until tonight until he finally heard the sounds that gave the presence away. The stalker was damnably good, whoever he - or perhaps she - could be.
He relinquished his armor and carried his sword into the bathroom with him. It was roomy and immaculate, and he felt no disgust to be in it at all. The shower was inviting and his flesh itched wherever the leather had bitten into his most tender pieces of skin.
He slipped his jacket off and let it fall to the floor. His belt followed, and his pants...
The hot water made his skin jump. He immediately felt the repercussions of its heat when it nearly scalded him. But the power of it began to dissipate and he relaxed under the steamy downpour. He stood with his legs apart, fastiduously calm and serene as he leaned his head back, his hands reaching to lift his hair slightly and let the water douse it to nearly drenching. The water filled every available nook and cranny in his build, letting the filth of the world drain away into the more advanced drainage system of the fort.
Eyes closed, he barely heard a sound when he lurched to action, throwing the curtain aside with a snarl as he grabbed the sword and stared into the empty, steamy air. His door was ajar. He was positive he'd closed it. His moment of peace gone, he finally sank back into the water again and mumbled a curse. All the hot air was escaping. He stepped out, slammed the door and locked it this time, before slipping back into the shower. No free shows for the stalker!
He finished washing up and emerged, finding clean clothes waiting for him just by the door in another chair. What a love of chairs these pathetic humans had. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he silently thanked his lucky Ancestors that this place wasn't prone to turning Clones away. His scars were still aching where he had removed the stitches last night, and he rubbed them while he picked up the clothes. They were snug and warm, made of cotton that seemed to want to wrap him up in snuggly warmth.
They made him feel naked though. He wrapped his hair up and left it that way for awhile, lounging in thin cotton sweatpants that covered his feet and a large, thick sweatshirt that warmed him almost immediately. He watched the television, lounging on the bed on his stomach, sword at his side, of course. He would have his clothes cleaned, but it would cost extra. No matter. He would be gone before they even asked him for his bill.
There were the reports of clones popping up everywhere. Then the manhunts for rogue scientists, plopping their little laboratories in hidden caves all over the world. He blinked his eyes sleepily and digressed the knowledge quietly. What lab did he come from? He didn't even have the right number, except the ominous 'I' on his right hand. He closed his eyes, letting the lull of the television slowly draw him into slumber.
When he awoke, it was the sound of music spilling into his conscious ears. Something on the TV channel about music, or maybe it was just playing because there was nothing really 'scheduled' on such new frequency channels. Few stations from which to broadcast. He turned it off and rolled to his feet, rising slowly like a newly awakened corpse out of torpor.
Once again his door was unlocked, when he had sworn to have locked it that night. He glared at the opposing door, his senses teasing him to just kick out his leg and break it in half for being so utterly useless! But in the end, he merely dressed quietly in the darkness of the cavernous room and left, leaving whatever gold he spared on the nightstand beside the bed. And a note saying, "Purchase better locks and thicker doors."
Gongaga was still a long distance away. But it would all be worth the trip if he could see the look on that blonde boy's face. "Hello, can you tell me why everyone says I should be dead?" he recites out loud, cackling like an insane librarian. He climbs down the ladder to the narrow vestibule outside and wanders on to Junon.