With plans in order for the following night, Rude was unable to convince himself that he might actually be able to sleep. Especially after the evening he just had. So he headed to a place he really should have avoided. Of course, such an idea never crossed his mind as he went for a visit with Reno and Elena.

As he approached the flat Reno had claimed, he noticed the blue flash of the television through the windows. The light alternated between light blues and oranges, flashing frequently as a strobe light. Reno was obviously watching something fast paced, probably violent. Poor Elena.

Without knocking, Rude pushed aside the oak door and entered the living room with a most unusual grin. Elena was practically in a coma, staring at the television with inattentiveness. Reno, however, was on the edge of the seat, elbows propped against his knees, watching with much interest. Elena's expression quickly changed when she noticed Rude, and his grin.

"Wow… look at that," she remarked, smiling in turn.

Reno was hesitant to pry his eyes away from the gun battle on the television screen, but did so shortly after Elena's observation. By then, Rude had subdued the grin and any traces were long gone.

"Yeah, that's Rude. How interesting," Reno drawled sarcastically, returning his focus to the explosion on the screen.

"I swear he was grinning a second ago," Elena teased, coming to her feet.

"Rude is allergic to grins, Elena," Reno said flatly.

"Shut up," she inserted, sauntering over to Rude and swiping his sunglasses from his face to better see the look in his eyes. She could never tell when he was lying with the sunglasses intact. "So, Rude… what has you grinning?" she asked.

Rude made an attempt to grab the sunglasses from Elena, but she successfully kept them just beyond his reach. She shook her head as a mother would when a child had done something wrong, "Not until you tell me!" she said, wagging the glasses before him.

"Elena," Rude groaned.

By this time, Reno was quite amused by the theft of Rude's sunglasses, and couldn't help but have a good laugh at Elena's antics. He joined her beside Rude, giving him quite the once over before chiming in his two cents, "It's a woman."

"How do you know that?" Elena asked, hiding the sunglasses behind her back while glancing to Reno.

"The look on his face. Pretty obvious, yo," Reno said with a nod toward Rude. He really hadn't a clue what he was talking about, but ran blindly with the explanation as it fit well.

Rude grimaced, opting to stay silent. This was utterly ridiculous, and he wasn't about to play these little games. He honed his stealth and pretended to slip off in one direction, before making a quick advance toward Elena, where he pried his precious glasses from her tight grip. With the sunglasses safely in place, he sunk into the loveseat beside the couch and watched Elena and Reno stare quite incredulously at him.

"Haven't lost your touch, partner," Reno grinned and pinched Elena's side, "You… on the other hand…" With that, he rolled his eyes and sauntered over to the couch and perched himself on the arm under a burning glare from the blonde. How they teased one another. Seconds later, Reno was staring at Rude as if doing so would bring about the information he wanted.

"So, who is it?" Reno asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Who said anything about a girl?" Rude replied with a question.

Elena shifted her weight impatiently, carefully moving to sit near Reno on the couch. She matched his stare, and Rude felt as if he were under the scrutiny of scientists. As if this situation was really that important to Reno or Elena.

"Girl, eh? So you're into pedophilia these days…" Reno remarked.

Rude rolled his eyes behind the cover of his sunglasses, in disbelief of what his supposed best friend had just suggested. "Get off, Reno," he said.

"Then spill the beans," Reno pressed.

A look of encouragement spread over Elena's delicate features. It was as if a light bulb had clicked on somewhere in her imagination. "I know who it is," she said proudly.

"Oh, you do?" Rude asked quite sarcastically.

"Do tell, 'Laney," Reno inquired.

"Well," she began, "I bet it's the bartender… that AVALANCHE chick," she stated with excitement lingering in the undertones of her voice. Of course, Reno had told Elena about the crush that was discussed so long ago.

"Ah, good catch," Reno agreed, nearly glaring at Rude and awaiting a response.

Rude sat in silence as long as he possibly could, enduring the daggers glared from his colleagues, all the while feeling quite offended about Tifa being referred to as the 'AVALANCHE chick.' Finally, his words broke out in a torrent. "She has a name, Elena. It's Tifa."

"So it is her," Elena smiled cutely.

"Would you both quit?" Rude commanded in avoidance.

"Nope. You better just tell us what happened, yo." Reno scooted closer, patting Rude on the shoulder.

"And you'll leave me alone about it?" Rude furthered, rolling his shoulder until Reno lifted his affection.

"Of course," Elena chirped.

Rude paused in thought, taking in a deep breath. It would get them off my back. Maybe they'd drop it completely… but then maybe they'll tease mercilessly. It's certainly worth a shot, though. "Okay. I stopped by her bar,"

"Okay, first of all: You went to a bar and you didn't tell me?" Reno seemed to take offense to this little fact, before continuing his questioning. "Secondly, what the fuck happened, man?"

Rude heaved a sigh while watching Reno's myriad of unusual faces, "Nothing much."

"Now's not the time to be overly discreet, Rude. We're curious!" Elena added.

"And if you don't spill it, we'll be forced to tie you down and torture you." The devious expression Reno offered didn't help the threat any, and Rude considered this for a moment. He recalled the last time such a threat was given. Reno had somehow tied him down and Elena had instigated the torture. It was less than desirable.

"We talked, she took my glasses off, I complimented her and I left," Rude explained as simply and plainly as was possible. Now shut up.

"She took… your glasses off?" Elena repeated in utter disbelief. Of all the information included in his vague statement, this seemed to pique her interest most.

"Whoa, big step there, man."

Reno and his ridiculous usage of words such as 'man and 'yo.' "She was curious. So hold the deal and drop it," Rude directed.

"Hey, hey. Who's second in command here? And you're tossing out orders?" Reno spread his arms wide in question, acting as if he were mortally wounded by Rude's attitude. Rude knew better.

"Then I'll go," Rude said as he stood to leave.

"You're so difficult," Elena stated as Rude met the door.

"Come on, stay and have a drink," Reno persuaded with a smile.

"Whiskey?" Rude questioned.

"Always," Reno answered.

So Rude stayed. Eventually, with the warm influence of the whiskey, he fell asleep on the couch and stayed the night through. He fell asleep awaiting the morning, however tired he might be.

…

Sunday morning came more quickly than Rude was prepared for. His watch sounded at around nine in the morning, but in his incoherence, he dismissed the alarm. The next bout of consciousness came when Reno stumbled through the living for a drink, before disappearing into his room. A quick glance at his watch provided the time: just after one in the afternoon.

Today would be taken at a leisurely pace, which would provide him time to contemplate the way he'd pull the wool over Reno's eyes in order to visit Seventh Heaven. It was quite soon, he realized, but he did not mind that at all. All of this struck him as odd, not much like the usual behaviour he had taken to. Of course, he also found this new excitement refreshing and welcome in a bold sort of way. What has come over me?

"Women," Reno would say if the conversation ever took place.

Not just women, a specific woman. But acting like a voracious teenager would only serve to cause self-annoyance. That simply was not his style. Not only that, but he was all but positive that Tifa would never take a liking to such a style.

After convincing Reno—with no small amount of skill—that he was not heading out to the bar, Rude took an indirect route to Seventh Heaven. It wasn't as if he enjoyed behaving in such ways, but having Reno tag along with his smart mouth and indecent manners simply would not impress Tifa. Either that or they would impress her so wildly that Rude would become a fly hanging on the wall. Neither sounded appealing.

From beyond the doors, the bar seemed as dull as it had been the night before. Rude feared another entrance such as the one he'd had the prior evening, with all eyes on him, but he actually preferred a slow night so he might have a chance to absorb more of her kind conversation and enchanting eyes. Quite easily, he was addicted.

Upon sliding past the door, Rude suddenly realized his hopes were dashed. Despite the outward appearance and the fact that it was a Sunday evening, the bar was hopping with patrons. Noisy patrons, at that. He heard a belch from one corner, followed by a chorus of boisterous laughter and lewd comments. Edge's finest, out in full force.

Winding his way through the few men on their way out, Rude made the counter and slid between a burly man and slight woman—an interesting place to be sandwiched. He caught sight of Tifa after a moment's search, taking in her exhausted appearance. She was struggling for the sink with six mugs in her arms, praying with silent words that the glasses would not explode from her arms and fall to their demise. Where was her tray? He spotted it trapped beneath dozens of other glasses; she obviously hadn't had a chance to clear them in time. Without a second thought, he was at her side, carefully coaxing a few of the glasses from her trembling arms.

With the transfer of glasses completed, Tifa looked to Rude with grateful eyes. "Thank you! I thought I was going to drop those," she said while she hurried to set the remaining glasses in the sink.

Rude nodded, brining the glasses he now possessed over where she stole them back and set them in the full sink with the others. He took a moment to look her over discreetly, before glancing out at the bar. It was packed, and the dishes were piled over the back counter. One man shouted for a refill, and Tifa was off in quite the hurry, wearing an apologetic smile for Rude.

While Tifa was tending to refill requests, Rude carefully rolled the sleeves of his blazer into neat folds just a quarter of the way to his elbow. He moved the dishes from the sink in order to gain access to the drain, which he promptly plugged. The dish soap was hidden well in the cabinet below, among many other cleaners, but he found it quickly and poured a generous amount into the sink before turning on the hot water.

By the time Tifa finished with refills and various new orders, she came beside him with an incredulous look. "Rude! I can't have you doing the dishes. Really, what would my customers think if they saw a fellow patron washing dishes?"

Rude paused half way through the pile by then, giving Tifa a quick shake of his head and saying: "You looked as if you could use a hand with these."

"That doesn't mean I expect you to do them, Cloud doesn't even—" she bit her lip and paused the words threatening to spill. Such things had no reason to be said.

Before he could inquire her strange talk, and before she could protest to his help, another patron demanded a new drink. Left to do the dishes in peace, Rude washed and rinsed like a professional. He never did anything half way. Anything less than the best was unacceptable. Perhaps that played into why he never settled for anyone lower than the standard Tifa had set?

When he had all those dishes put away, save for the few she brought over between refills, he leaned against the counter and rolled his sleeves back down to their full length. The crowd had thinned to half the size it had been when he arrived, and he realized then it had taken him nearly an hour to do all of the dishes.

Tifa came to him with a ragged look, sweeping her hair into a loose pony tail which she tied with a band from under the counter. He decided then that she looked stunning with her hair swept back, and he accidentally voiced that aloud. "You look pretty with your hair up," he'd said.

She seemed surprised by his sudden compliment, whether because she had truly not expected anyone to find her pretty in such a state or because it was he who had said so, he did not know. She looked at him in a side ways manner that begged him to confess he was only kidding, but he did no such thing. "If you say so," she grinned and caught sight of the spotless sink and counter. At this, she let her jaw slack slightly. "I cannot believe you did all that!"

"What else can I do to help?" he asked, watching as a few new patrons came in and settled.

"Rude, I couldn't possibly ask that of you."

"You didn't. I offered," he replied.

"Yes, but—"

"I'll wipe down the counter and clean the tables off."

"You can't be serious," she sighed in disbelief.

He realized that she must have hated asking anything of people; always ready to sacrifice herself to help, but never willing to allow anyone else the same opportunity. That would not suffice tonight. Without replying any further, he grabbed a towel from the sink and began tidying the counter where the patrons had dwindled.

Tifa watched with a warm smile, quite taken by his true kindness. She had never imagined a Turk to be such a gentlemen when not acting in interest of an assignment. She doubted he was on assignment, yet her suspicion was almost instinctive. How could she doubt such sincerity, though?

…

When the last customer had wandered into the night, it was half past two in the morning. Thanks to Rude, most of the bar was tidy and she hadn't much left to be done aside from a few dishes used by the very last of the patrons. Had Rude not helped, she was sure she'd be buried to her nose in dirty glasses and trash—which he'd emptied already.

She heaved a sigh of relief, taking in the silence for a moment. She was glad the bar was empty and closing time had come. Sleep was first on her list of priorities, but even above that treasured first spot was thanking Rude for all of the help he provided.

Tifa fidgeted with the dish rag in her hands as she approached him, before leaning casually against the counter beside him and surveying the nearly spotless counter in front. Putting on her best casual voice, she said: "I really can't thank you enough for helping me with all this."

"Don't mention it," Rude replied. He really expected nothing in return. It made him happy enough to help her feel better about the busy evening.

"Really, isn't there something I could do?" she asked, nibbling on her lip in thought. Suddenly, she was pushing off the counter and facing him with a wide smile. "Tomorrow I close early, since it's so dead on Mondays. Why don't you meet me here then, and I'll whip up a nice dinner?"

Rude was quite pleasantly surprised by her offer, but still he didn't want her to feel indebted to him. "You don't have to do that,"

"No, but I'd like to," she insisted.

"What time?" he asked.

"I usually wrap things up around eleven or so," she nodded as if reaffirming to herself.

"Then I'll be here." With that, she watched him straighten his blazer as if he intended to leave. Not that he needed to stay any longer, but she found herself wishing he'd stay just a little longer.

"I'll see you then," she replied, fidgeting further with the rag until it fell to the floor with a wet thwap. Smooth, she thought.

At once, both of them stooped to retrieve the rag and nearly knocked foreheads at the point they paused. At such proximity, she could see the faint outline of his wide eyes staring into hers. She gave a nervous giggle, which only bothered her more, before mumbling about being clumsy. When they had paused so close, she couldn't help but notice the way his soft breath had fallen against her lips. He was seductive without meaning to be, and that was more attractive than someone who flashes their good looks with a good dose of manipulative seduction. The awkward moment was really over in a flash, though it seemed to drag out.

If Rude had been bothered by the little mishap, he sure had a funny way of showing it. As calm and cool as ever, he swept up the rag and handed it her. To avoid more silence, she asked: "What sort of food do you like?"

"Pasta, vegetables… Costan dishes," he replied.

"I'll see if I can't think up something good," she said after calming her nerves.

"Don't worry too much about it," he urged. "Can I help with anything else before I head out?"

"Of course not. You've done so much already. I'm just going to go to bed, and finish it up in the morning."

Tifa accompanied Rude to the door, where she said goodnight and brushed her hand softly against his in gratitude. Even beneath his dark skin, she thought she saw a faint rosy blush.

"Goodnight, Tifa." And he walked out the door.

So with quite a smile, Tifa headed to bed thinking of only recipes the rest of the evening. She had to make something worthy of such a kind person. Then it occurred to her she was calling a man who had killed in the name of his job once—perhaps more times—during his life. What an odd parallel. She opted to ignore that final thought; she was not blameless in the world. Certainly she could not expect that of anyone else.

Finally, the second chapter. I wanted to be sure I'd developed a solid idea, as I wrote the first on a whim and had planned it to be a one shot of sorts. So much for that—I simply could not leave it alone ;) This chapter was more casual, so I hope that I've managed to write Rude well again. I also hope you've all enjoyed this second installment. Please do review if you have a moment! Until chapter three-