Tifa's Bogus Journey
Chapter Five: The Vincent Cliché Part Two
Before I begin: Tifa's attack on 'Jim-Jam' in chapter three wasn't meant to show some side of cruelty to Tifa. 'Jim-Jam' is just too friggin' annoying (and horribly featured) for anyone to put up with. And besides, there was a pretty good reason for that happening. It'll pop up in a later chapter, so just wait and see.
You know guys, I'm kind of curious. Janichyka ('Jim-Jam'), and Drakengard ('Greg') are pretty dumb, lame, stupid, etc. names for such 'unstoppably bad-ass characters', though I admittedly meant to make them as stupid as possible. So here's my little question of the day: What is the strangest, worst, or funniest name that you've seen an original character have in a serious fanfic? Any fanfic. If you've got any real doozies, drop it with a review (along with the title of the story and what series the fanfic was from). I'll see what you guys can dig up, and if there any ones that exceedingly tickle my fancy, I'll write a custom (hopefully non-cliché) ficcy for whoever submitted it. As is quickly becoming the tagline for this 'fic: it's meant to be all in good fun. Though it can't always be fun when it takes five minutes to say a character's name. Because honestly-
-Intermission-
Cid: All right Jerrahalresianedrellindre! The gig is up!
Barret: Shit man, how'd you even manage to pronounce that name? I can't get past the third syllable!
Cid: I practiced! Now come on, Jerrahalresianedrellindre! I'll tear you a new ass!
Jerrahalresianedrellindre: I bet you can't say it again! Bet you can't say it three times, fast!
Cid: I bet I can!
In the span of time it takes him to say it three times, fast, Barret gets bored, gives up on the battle, goes and makes himself one Hell of a sandwich, comes back, gets bored again, and decides to go see how Cait Sith, Tseng, and Zack are faring in their battle against the even more unstoppable Sharramannakhandrachandrienkhuvolach. I think she's supposed to be Hindi or something.
Tseng: We're doomed! We can't pronounce a name like that!
Zack: What do you care? You're not even supposed to be alive!
Tseng: Neither are you!
Zack: Touché.
-End Intermission-
There. And there's a clichéd, horribly long author's note. Huzzah huzzah!
'Jim-Jam' and 'Greg' are mine. Everything else isn't. It's all in good fun.
..........
"Uh, really, Vince, can we go back upstairs? There was a door up there that really caught my fancy, and, uh..... the further away I stay from the restraint table, the better." Tifa grumbled, realizing that Vincent wouldn't heed her whiny protests. And yet, she tromped after him down the stairs, the dim light from his candelabrum the only thing she could-
Whomp
One curiously placed, italicized sound effect later, and Tifa found herself on the ground, the victim of the old 'trip-on-the-broken-bottom-step-and-fall,-only-to-land-on-top-of-the-rather-dashing-man-ahead-of-you-for-some-good-old-fashioned-romantic- tension' pitfall.
And, lo and behold, Tifa found herself sprawled unceremoniously, yet attractively on top of Vincent, her forearms braced on either side of his head, his hands resting on her hips from his trying to catch her fall. Despite the candelabrum having gone out when Vincent dropped it, they could still see each other perfectly in the dark, question of an alternative light source be damned.
They stared at one another for agonizingly long moments, both afraid to speak, as if it would ruin the moment that had come unwittingly upon them. Slowly, tentatively, Vincent leaned his head up slightly, eyes on hers, as he brought his mouth up towards hers, their lips a hair breadth apart-
"See what I mean about the floor boards? You really need to get this place fixed up." Tifa sighed, shattering the sexy atmosphere like a brick to the window that was metaphorically Vincent's chance to score.
But Vincent, undaunted, didn't answered, eyes narrowing slightly.
"I'll get you fixed up....." He murmured suggestively, trying again for a kiss, so he could put an end to the almost stifling unresolved sexual tension that had been brewing between them since...... well, since they fell suggestively onto the floor.
But Tifa reared back again, just out of his grasp, her forehead crinkling up in shock and mild horror.
"Sorry, but just what freaking kind of pick-up line is that supposed to be? I've heard some lame attempts in my time, but that has got to be up there among the worst I've ever heard." She sighed in exasperation, pushing herself up, backing away from Vincent.
Miffed, he sat up slightly, leaning on his hands, staring at her coolly.
"Need I remind you that I'm a misanthropic loner that lives in a basement? And that I'm rockin' that late eighties goth look and persona? Cut me some slack here." He bit out mopily, pouting from behind the collar of his cloak, averting his eyes from Tifa's bemused face.
"Oh come on Vince. Even a 'Hey baby! Can I see if your tits are real?' would have been better than that. No wonder you couldn't get anywhere with Lucrecia."
At the mention of his former infatuation, Vincent hunched forward, folding his arms and scowling sulkily at her.
Oh ho! The angst!
"At least Lucrecia would wait until I left the room before she and Hojo started making fun of me. I never was great at picking up chicks....." He sighed melodramatically, hands going up to his face, trying to shield himself so Tifa wouldn't see the shame burning in his face. Yes, shame burning so bright that she would have been able to see it, even without an alternative light source.
Tifa sighed, rolling her eyes, before bending down to his level, reaching out to awkwardly pat him on the shoulder in a half-hearted gesture of reassurance.
"Oh, come on Vincent, don't get upset like that..... No seriously, don't get upset like that. I'm sick of it." She sighed, rolling her eyes. She jerked back in surprise as Vincent suddenly bolted up into a standing position, glancing at her coldly, back into 'misanthropic loner mode' full-blast.
"Forget it. This act of rejection only serves to further freeze a shell of bitterness around my cold, dark heart." He huffed, grabbing the candelabrum back up, which, oddly enough, was lit up, despite having gone out when it had been dropped.
What. The. Hell.
Soon, they'd probably be breaking out of a prison cell, unarmed, yet when they run into guards, they'll be able to pull out their weapons, despite having them confiscated five chapters before. Or maybe she'll toss her Odin Materia off to Yuffie, and then be able to turn around on a group of enemies and Gunge Lance their sorry asses.
Nope, nothing unusual there.
"Follow me," He continued indifferently, motioning stiffly with his golden claw, not bothering to look back over his shoulder at her, as if confident she would indeed follow him. "The sooner we get this situation..... tied up, the better."
Tied up?
Oh, Mother of.....
Biting back another squeal of disgust, Tifa clapped her hands over her mouth, biting her tongue in horror at Vincent's retreating form, shaking her head slowly in a silent, desperate refusal.
However, thumping, erratic footsteps coming down the steps caused her to turn, catching a glimpse of something glow-in-the-freakin'-dark just as-
Whomp
Tifa landed harshly on her back on the ground, arms splayed out at her sides, as she found herself staring up at a sheepish 'Greg', who was laughing haltingly, nervously, and trying to do anything but be sprawled out on top of Tifa.
But, unfortunately for him, that's exactly where he was.
The 'trip-on-the-broken-bottom-step-and-fall,-only-to-land-on-top-of-the-rather-dashing-man-ahead-of-you-for-some-good-old-fashioned-romantic- tension' pitfall strikes again! Only Tifa doesn't really count as a 'rather dashing man'. But, y'know, aside from that, it's the same pitfall.
Canon-romance fans were going to tear him a new ass if anything even remotely spicy glimmered between them.
But it was almost a given that something spicy would happen. 'Greg' was just so dreamy, so unstoppably cool and, oh, what a fucking Mack-Daddy.....
Rawr.
"Tifa?" He started hesitantly, shifting his hands from where they were braced near her shoulders, leaning in close, his 'sort of mullet' flopping down into his eyes, some errant strands tickling along Tifa's pale brow, causing her to flinch slightly at the light, tickling touch.
"Yes?" She replied in an equally hesitant tone, staring at him, claret eyes wide and beseeching, waiting expectantly for him to continue. Her lips parted ever so slightly, and her breath hitched in her throat, waiting for him to say it, to admit what he felt.
'Greg' leaned in closer, so close that their lips were almost touching, his glow-in-the-freakin'-dark eyes boring into hers, as if looking into her very soul. Who knew, that could have been another latent skill of his. They were just cropping up left and right.
"I, uh....." He paused uncharacteristically, blinking and swallowing heavily, as if trying to find the right words. "I think I skinned my knee."
Way to go 'Greg'! Kill that possibly romantic moment!
Tifa sighed, rolling her eyes as she bodily forced him off of her, climbing to her feet and pulling him up along with her.
While he inspected his poor knee, Tifa was staring towards the door that Vincent had disappeared into, tapping one long, tapered finger against her chin. Yes, her fingers were smooth, and elegant, and perfect. Because that's just how Tifa was.
And, she was also apparently good at quickly formulating plans. Plans that would work, and go flawlessly, despite their being no discussion or briefing of it.
Vincent had claimed that he had a veritable wall of ice surrounding his heart, right? We-hell then, she was just going to have to melt it.
As always. And then Vincent would probably announce his undying affection for her, and she'd do the same, only syrupy sweet and spinelessly.
How did everyone seem to forget she had a spine? She had to have something back there to hold up those massive saline-inserts she had been saddled with. Ah, geez.
"So, how ya doing with this one, Chief?" 'Greg' asked, biting his lip as he tried to cope with the unbearable pain ripping through his left knee. Getting booted in the chest by Tifa, and then getting swamped beneath a veritable mountain of pennies didn't seem to leave him any worse for the wear, though the skinned knee seemed more than he could handle.
Ah ha! So perhaps 'Greg' had a weakness after all.....
.....Inconsistent characterization.
"I want to drink bleach and slit my wrists in a bathtub already." She sighed, shaking her head.
"You can't give up now! You've barely started!" 'Greg' cried stalwartly, shaking his head to try and deter her from her morose thoughts. ".....You'll have to get back to your place first anyway. There's no bathtub, and Vincent probably doesn't have much in the way of cleaning products anyhow."
Tifa rolled her eyes, muttering something decidedly cruel under her breath, scowling.
"I'll keep that in mind. Anyhow, I need to find a way to melt his icy heart, and I'll need to do it fast. Apparently, our attraction is starting to manifest, and he wants to, uh, consummate it in the most unsettling way imaginable."
"Kinky bondage on a restraint table?" 'Greg' immediately guessed, causing Tifa to nod in response, before she stopped, head whipping towards him almost inhumanly fast, staring at him in shock and mild horror, wondering just how the Hell he could have guessed that was the situation.
But then again, he had those awesome powers of deductive reasoning, as displayed last chapter.
"So I'll have to think of something. Something....." She trailed off, as one of those memories hit her.
You know, one of those memories, which really has nothing to do with the progression of the plot, but it just so happens that events in the memories have something in them that can help Tifa out with the situation at hand. Also known as a 'gratuitous plot device'.
Memory
"Hey Cid." Tifa greeted warmly, making her way towards the shadowed form of the Tiny Bronco, nestled in along the sandy shore, light wave lapping at the bottom of the crippled sea-plane. Despite it being the middle of the night, she was looking collected and radiant, and the softly glimmering light of the stars seemed to pause and redirect its light all towards her, encircling her in a soft halo of light. It always helped when even nature realized you were meant to be the center of attention.
She had noticed Cid had been missing from the group for some time, and she had gone looking for him, positive that he was probably doing something technology based. Well, that, or he had been eaten by a Cthulu.
And she had been secretly disappointed when she saw him working on the Tiny Bronco. Nobody was ever going to get eaten by a Cthulu at this rate.....
"Hey darlin'. You need something?" He replied warmly, climbing to his feet, giving her a small wave. He pulled up the metal mask over his face and ran a forearm across his brow, setting down the welder's torch for a moment.
"Nah. I just came to check up on you, and..... what are you doing?" She wandered over to him, looking at the red hot stripe of metal running across a part of the wing, wondering just what he was doing, and if it would ever be useful information for another time in her life. After all, it was really pretty. And that Koala bear wearing a bowler hat sitting on the wing of the plane wasn't too shabby either.
"Welding. This part of the wing needs a little fixing up and- Hey, don't get too close to it. It's hot as a mofo. I mean, its so hot right now, it could melt just about anything. And when I say anything, I mean anything." He pulled his welder's mask completely off now, allowing his bright pink afro to spring up, no longer held in by the confining straps of the welder's mask. His light orange three piece suit was spattered in dirt and grime, the shirt bearing darker splotches of slowly drying sweat, evidence of his hard work on the repairs.
Tifa made a face and backed up slightly, not one to take Cid's warning's lightly.
"Ah, thanks Cid. Anything, huh?"
"Oh yeah. Absolutely. Just remember that. It might come in handy sometime. Y'know, if you're ever in some basement, and the inhabitant therein wants to get a little..... kinky." He said somewhat ominously, eyebrows up as he uttered the word 'kinky'.
"Oh, c'mon Cid. That's never going to happen." She giggled lightly, waving it off airily.
"Guess not. But hey- watch out for that Cthulu! I-"
End
Tifa came back to her senses with a start, blinking to get her focus back, realizing that 'Greg' was staring at her expectantly, and that a good forty minutes had passed while mulling over that memory. Oh well, it was so obvious now! All she had to do was go get a Cthulu, and then.....
"Wait a minute..... that never even happened!" Tifa pouted after a moment of thinking it over, stroking at her chin while she mulled over it a little more. "The Koala in the bowler hat should have been a dead giveaway..... or Cid's erroneous appearance....."
"Uh, what?"
"Just give me a blow torch." Tifa grumbled flatly, fixing him with a steely glare.
"What makes you think I'd have blow torch?" 'Greg' asked incredulously, brow crunching up in dismay at her order. It wasn't like he normally carried one around with him wherever he went or-
Tifa rolled her eyes, hands settling on her hips while she regarded him flatly.
"It's a trick as old as a fanfic." She sighed, pausing and nodding to herself at that impromptu rhyme "Somebody will always just so happen to have exactly what we need for the situation at hand, especially when it's an integral part of the plot."
"What's so integral about a blowtorch?" 'Greg' was still in full-blown incredulous mode, something that hadn't been expressed since the time of 'What do you mean we have to eventually lose to AVALANCHE?'.
Tifa didn't answer, only tapping her foot slowly, waiting. She obviously didn't have a blowtorch on her, so it had to be him.
Nervously trying to avoid the scathing look she was giving him, he shoved his hands into the kangaroo pocket on the front of his hoodie, knocking something from it, sending it clattering to the floor with the clang and scrape of metal.
Awkwardly bending down, mindful of his skinned knee, he picked it up, blinking in surprise.
Hey, a blowtorch. And a welder's mask. Whaddaya know. How conveeeeeeeeenient.
"Awesome! Time for the climax....." Tifa cringed for a moment, her choice of words immediately reminding her of just what Vincent had in mind for the 'romance' aspect "Uh, I mean time for the denouement. I'll come back when I'm done." She nodded before fixing the welder's mask on, leaving it flipped up for the moment.
Hurrying down the hall to the room full of coffins, she paused, hesitantly pushing the door open, peering in at her surroundings, seeing that it was dark and dank, and the floor was strewn with the smashed remains of coffins, and their unfortunate inhabitants.
Of course, the coffin they had found Vincent in was still in tact, and was in good shape too, freshly varnished and polished, all the brass detailing giving off a dull sheen.
But damn if the rest of the room didn't need some Meadow Fresh Febreeze.....
Vincent was sitting hunched over, perched on top of his casket, with his back to the door, in his classic super-sulk. Shadows were thrown around the room, the small sliver of light coming from the partially opened door throwing a weak slice of illumination on Vincent's form, the despairing slouch of his shoulders, his lithe frame wrapped up in his blood red cloak.
Stepping in tentatively, Tifa bit her lip, eyes shifting back and forth, surveying the stacks of human skulls lining the walls, all staring and grinning madly at her, their vacant eye sockets seeming to trail her as she made her way into the room.
"Tifa, I'm troubled. Once I do ya, you must leave, and never come back. For I am not worthy to even be in the same room as you-"
"Got that right." Tifa muttered, rolling her eyes.
"And you do not deserve to have your happiness and exuberance ripped away by someone like me. You deserve to be happy, something that I cannot give you. All I can really do is mope around, and be blind to the fact that you're such a good looking lady, and I know this will just further perpetuate those 'Poncy Fop' rumors, but I-"
Tifa sighed, stepping closer to him, tentatively reaching a hand out, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder again.
"Come on, I won't leave you. I've found it in my heart to try and help you out, despite your whole speech of wanting me to leave. And, y'know, I still really, really need a new door."
"Your heart," Vincent sighed, shaking his head bitterly, reaching up slightly with his claw, the metal appendage closing over her hand, squeezing it slightly, as if trying to find comfort in her. "You must cherish that treasure while you still have it. When Lucrecia died, my heart did too. It is now frozen beneath all the bitterness and crushing angst I must endure, and I fear it is completely useless to me, after all of the strife I incurred at the hands of Hojo. I don't deserve to be among people such as you Tifa. I should stay down here, alone. With my demons. And maybe a little something to remember you by....." He trailed off, his mournful monologue becoming a little sly and hopeful with his last line.
He had to strike now, reel her in when the time was right.....
Tifa squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, sighing before she slid her hand away, pulling the welder's mask down over her face and lighting up the blowtorch. She sighed again, leaning in towards him, trying to assume an impassioned, sympathetic tone.
"Your heart is still there Vincent. You're still human no matter what you think. You just need to let me break through the icy walls you've built up around your heart over the years. And then, you'll be in a completely out-of-character limbo due to your love for me."
"But how can you do that? I'm a-"
Hoping to circumvent another long-winded, miserable monologue, Tifa stopped him before he could really even start.
"Look at me Vincent." She cooed gently, hoping that he'd take the bait.
Vincent sighed heavily, yet did, eyebrows going up in surprise at seeing the mask, even more so when he saw the blow torch.
"Uh, Tifa, what-"
He didn't have time to finish, as Tifa lunged forward, knocking him from his perch on top of the casket, sending them both to the ground, landing in a sort of mockery of the old 'trip-on-the-broken-bottom-step-and-fall,-only-to-land-on-top-of-the-rather-dashing-man-ahead-of-you-for-some-good-old-fashioned-romantic- tension' pitfall.
But there was simply no romantic tension there. Just Vincent, trying to not get a searing hole burned into his chest. And Tifa, trying to do just that.
"Tifa, Tifa I-" Vincent, though he never really showed it, was scared. Like totally 'pee your pants' scared. Yes, that sort of juvenile situation can happen to Vincent. He's not totally infallible. He was trying to keep that friggin' blowtorch away from him, but she was fighting him like a woman possessed, trying with all her might to overpower him. And she was a martial artist, so she probably had a bit of an advantage over him, he being just a weird, skinny guy that carried around a gun.
Oh, if only he had his gun now.....
"I'll let you restrain me on the specimen table....." She might have tried for the sexy voice on that one, but her voice came out strained, as she was trying desperately to over power him, and there was nothing exceedingly sexy about that.
But her words certainly hit home.
"Really?" Vincent asked, perking up visibly at the offer, relaxing his crushing grip on Tifa's wrists just a bit, considering it somewhat. On one hand, he wasn't too wild about the whole blowtorch situation. But on the other hand-
"No. That was just to distract you." Tifa admitted, using his distraction to her advantage, bringing down the blowtorch with a sizzle and hiss as his flesh started burning.
Back out in the hall, 'Greg' wasn't too worried about the screaming. Well, until it went on for five minutes straight, was accompanied by the sickly-sweet smell of broiled flesh, and reached a pitch that he was almost certain meant the end of his eardrums.
Despite Tifa having told him to wait, he just had to go see what all the hub-bub was about. And it gave me the excuse to use the word 'hub-bub'.
'Greg' made his way into the room, gaping in horror at the sight before him.
Vincent was laying, crumpled in a whimpering heap on the ground, a suspicious amount of smoke rising from his chest. How he wasn't dead from such an injury was quite the mystery. However, I'm sure there's some perfectly good explanation as to why he's still alive.
Well, first off, this is an angst/romance, not an angst/tragedy. And furthermore, that whole 'almost dying but not dying' situation really does wonders to cement a relationship between two people. And I guess it took a while to melt away all of the ice that had built up around his heart over the decades.
Tifa was sitting on top of Vincent's coffin, lounging there, the flame of the blowtorch dangerously close to her mouth, using it to light a cigarette, the welder's mask set down next to her, having no more need of it.
"Oh gross! What did you do?!" 'Greg' winced back from Vincent's crumpled form, feeling a bit sickened at the sight. Especially since Vincent was just laying there quietly, as if afraid to do anything that could possibly draw Tifa's attention.
"What?!" Tifa sighed indignantly, the cigarette bobbing slightly where it was perched on her lower lip. "I did it out of love!"
"How?! You burned a hole in his chest!"
"Well, I wasn't going to have creepy bondage sex with him on the Specimen table, so I had to do something! Besides, he'll shake it off pretty fast. Right?" She finished expectantly, glancing towards Vincent, giving him a slight nudge with the toe of her boot, causing him to jump slightly, sitting up, both hands clenched over the wound.
He nodded quickly, a bright smile cracking his normally stoic features.
"Oh yeah, I feel great Tifa! I can feel a cornucopia of emotions, just like real people! I don't want to live in this basement and angst anymore. I don't want to have creepy bondage sex with you, and furthermore, I feel like I don't need to angst over Lucrecia anymore! You and that blowtorch have really turned my life around, and I can't thank you enough!" He exclaimed brightly, hardly able to contain himself.
"And I take it you'll also reform on your living arrangements, get a place with indoor plumbing, and also get a job so you can pay your electricity bill?"
"You betcha!" He nodded emphatically, hugging her around the legs, leaning against her affectionately.
Yikes. Maybe Tifa overdid it a little bit on melting though those icy walls around his heart.
"And do you love me now? More than you ever really could have loved Lucrecia? Or do you at least love me enough so that you won't call me Lucrecia in bed? And will you stop being that goddamn excited?"
Vincent winced for a second, and relaxed his grip, sitting back, allowing her a little bit of room.
".....I guess." He sighed, trying to remember just how he was supposed to act. He had to mope, be sort of poetic in a creepy way, and also speak in indifferent, partial sentences.
Tifa twisted the handle on the blowtorch, the flame licking dangerously close to Vincent's face, and he winced back slightly, grimacing.
"Uh, what I meant to say is that I love you. Always have, always will."
Tifa nodded, setting aside the blowtorch, and she leaned in, tapping her left cheek gently.
Taking the hint, Vincent leaned up, placing a quick kiss on her cheek, getting one from her on the forehead in return (despite the fact that she still had the cigarette perched at the edge of her mouth).
"You're an okay guy Vince. A damn okay guy." She replied, ruffling his hair affectionately.
Oh ho! The romance!
Apparently, that made it the end of the Vincent angst/romance.
Hooray! She did it!
Sliding back and off the coffin, Tifa plucked the cigarette from her lips, exhaling a quick gust of smoke, and stretched, her back popping into alignment.
Vincent climbed to his feet, pulling off his cloak and bandanna, setting them aside and pulling off the gold claw as well, tossing it away, sending a pile of the skulls clattering to the floor in a dusty heap.
"Good to see you tossed a bit of a twist there towards the end. Almost thought it would end up the same as always." Vincent sighed, slinging his arm around her shoulders, plucking the cigarette from her lips and taking a pull from it before handing it back.
"That was my plan all along. I wasn't sure if it was going to work or not though."
"Good thing it did. One of my fake fangs fell off earlier today, and I couldn't find it. So it's a good thing we didn't have to do that whole 'Vinny's a vampire angle'. Sorry about that whole specimen table thing. Do you think I took the 'Vincent being creepy-weird' thing a little too far there?"
"Nah, I think it went okay. After all it was creepy. And weird. So, I think you had it dead on there. So what're you up to next?" She asked, while Vincent pulled out his little leather datebook, flipping it open, his eyes narrowing a bit.
"One of those ones where you die unexpectedly, and then I unexpectedly show up, and give Cloud some unexpected condolences. And some not-so unexpected lovin'. How about you?"
Tifa paused, glancing over at 'Greg', considering what she should pick next. He shrugged indifferently, a fair sign that she was free to go anywhere she wanted to.
"Ah..... probably one of those ones where Reno shows up and gives me some unexpected patronage at my bar, and we hit it off pretty well, despite the fact that we were bitter enemies in the past, and we'll end up in a steamy relationship. And there's probably bound to be some plot twists here or there." She shrugged airily.
"Have fun with that one."
"Oh yeah, you bet. You too."
"You know I will. Cuddling up to Cloud is exactly like cuddling up to a bony, flat-chested woman. Only I'm sure Cloud enjoys it more." He sighed somewhat sardonically, rolling his eyes. "Anyhow, when you get a break in your schedule, give me a call, we can go out and get coffee and Danishes or something."
"Sounds like a plan. See ya later Vince." She waved, making her way back to 'Greg', hooking her elbow around his, seeing he was still a bit put off by her burning a hole through Vincent's chest. "Oh, come on. He's fine. That part was all a work of fiction anyway. Some plot hole or another will crop up and he'll be right as rain. Or the author will just forget about it." She shrugged easily.
".....Right. Okay, so you said you wanted to go to the Reno drama/romance, right Chief?" He asked, causing her to squint up at him suspiciously.
"Well, first I want to get upstairs and actually get a new door. But after that, the Reno thing. And why are you calling me Chief all of a sudden?"
"Well, I gave this some thought while digging myself out from under all of those pennies. Calling you 'Chief' makes you sound pretty important, right? And since I get to tag along after you, that makes me feel even more important since you have a cool nickname like 'Chief'. What do you think?"
"I think I want to smother you with that burlap sack of yours."
END FIVE
Well, I'm not sure how good that one came out. Maybe a bit too heavy on the 'Greg' and a bit lagging in the charm of its previous counterparts, but oh well. Hope you guys liked it, and if there's any genre you'd specifically like to see Tifa tackle, leave a suggestion in a review. I'm not going in any specific order really.
There might be a bit of a lag before I post chapter six, because I'm going off to college, and I'm switching over to a different computer, so I'm putting off the next chapter till I get all situated and whatnot.