To Know You
Chapter Eight: The Bar Beckons
By Darknightdestiny

The building was ideal; not too large for a team to handle, and not too small to accomodate a decent crowd. The outside was a show of excellent artistry; the exterior was of a dull, charming brick pattern, and the beautifully varnished porch added a welcoming touch. He took another glance down at the piece of paper in his hand. This was definitely the place. Without paying any further attention to his surroundings, he approached the door.

Placing his right hand on the door handle, he fully expected it to open when he pulled at it. And it did. There was something about Tifa's generally warm and friendly nature that told him it wouldn't be locked this morning. She was expecting him, and her thought process as of late would dictate that if he found the door to be locked, he might not go to the trouble of finding his way in. Besides, she could easily protect herself against anyone who meant her harm.

As soon as he had entered the bar, he found himself in a more than comfortable setting. The room was neither warm or cold, but the sunlight refracted through the window cast a pleasant sensation throughout his body as it lighted on his back. The soft rays cast light patterns on the shiny wooden floors, which appeared to be pinkish in tint in some places. He let his eyes follow the source of the colored light to the racks hanging above the counter; clear, sparkling glasses hung just in reach of whomever was working the floor below, and they were tinged with a deep, red ring around the rims.

"Vincent."

He turned his head in the direction of the silken voice and found his friend standing in the entryway from the kitchen into the dining room.

"Tifa." His friend.

She approached him slowly, but without fear. She took her time more than she hesitated, and when she reached him, she looked right up into his bright red eyes and said, "I'm so glad you came." Her mouth started to pull upward at one corner even as she spoke, and by the time those five words had escaped her lips, she was flashing him a sincere smile.

He had come.

"Well! Here, let me show you around..." She lightly touched his arm and then pivoted in a perfect half-circle to face the direction she had come from. He let his eyes settle on the spot she had made contact with for a moment before letting it fall back into the recesses of his consciousness, then followed her about the tavern. There was nearly a skip in her step as she revealed her place to him, sharing the one joy that was truly hers to keep for as long as she could hope to maintain it.

"This is the kitchen back here," she said, as she led him through the swinging metal doors. He followed her into the back, where she gave him a quick walkthrough of each item, first turning sharply through the pantry door on the left. He wasn't paying as much attention as he could have, however. His ears kept picking up the sound of shuffling in the very back of the room. When they'd exited the pantry, the two of them came upon a tall, lanky dark-skinned man who was clearly prepping the day's food portions. That had been the shuffling noise Vincent had detected...

"Vincent, this is Orlando. He's our head chef; some days he'll take the brunt of the entire place by himself." She said this with a satisfied grin, taking pride in the fact that she had the very best working with her. Orlando held his hand out to Vincent, but Vincent only took it in visually. He glanced from Orlando's hand to his face, then back to his hand, and then raised his eyes to meet with his. Then, he nodded.

Orlando tilted his head in mild amusement and nodded back. The startling shade of Vincent's eyes didn't seem to disturb him at all; either that or he hadn't noticed. But it was hard not to notice Vincent's eye color under the bright lights illuminating the prep tables. Vincent kept his left arm close to his side and under his cloak. He didn't want to frighten the poor man on his first impression, forcing himself to deny any further requests on Tifa's part that he visit the bar.

Tifa stood there in bewilderment for a moment before she recovered the greater of her senses. "...And...now that the two of you have met, we'll move on with the tour!" No matter what she was recovering from, it seemed she always did it with a smile.

Vincent was on his way to follow Tifa, when he heard Orlando chuckle under his breath. "Heh heh...you're a lucky man." He hesitated for a minute, and then went on his way. What did he know? Vincent knew that her cheery disposition was completely false half of the time, and he also knew that, genuine or not, it wasn't reserved only for him. This man must have gotten a wrong impression of his reason for visiting. But it was of no consequence; what he thought of it mattered not to him.

"Do you like it?" the smooth voice came from behind the counter.

"Yes...I do." Not hesitant, and not forced. Still no eye contact. He stared down at the reflection of his shoe against the lacquered wood at the base of the countertop as he sat atop his barstool. She watched him with intent eyes, wondering at the sincerity of his answer.

"You do?"

"Yes," he answered again, his eyes still fixated on the same spot.

"Really? Because I was thinking..."

No movement.

She let a light sigh escape through a knowing smile. "Vincent, are you even paying attention?"

He lifted his eyes to meet hers then. "Yes."

"Oh." She returned his gaze with a blank look, as she was caught off guard.

"You were thinking?"

"Hm? Oh, that. Nothing. I just...honestly, I didn't think you were listening to me."

This time he tilted his head in earnest. "Why would I ignore you?"

"I...I don't know," she stammered. "Maybe you were off in another world." She nearly winced at the end of her remark, but decided not to let him see it. If she hadn't hit a chord she never meant to, the slightest implication in a wince could do it.

Truthfully, he could never ignore her. He rather enjoyed her company. She was his opposite on the surface, but he somehow could never shrug her off as any faceless person. Even if he had been somewhere else in mind, she would be the one to bring him back. "You had me from the very beginning." This brought a smile back to her face as she could see he meant it, and he went back to his preoccupation with the floor. She let out another barely audible sigh, wishing she could hold his attention for more than a moment.

But life is made up of little moments, isn't it? In fact, at just that moment, as Vincent was wondering to himself if Tifa's face would ever become permanently stuck like that from all the sincerity and insincerity she held the capacity for, Orlando called for help from the kitchen. A small smirk crept across Vincent's face as she left to help wonderboy.

And at that precise moment, the phone rang.

Vincent eyed the piece for a minute, unsure of what he should do. The phone stood alone, meaning there was no messaging service or mailbox of any kind. He took a look around, and threw caution to the wind.

"...Tifa's Seventh Heaven." Simple. Satisfactory. There was all that needed to be said in that one line.

"Can I speak to Tifa Lockheart, please?"

Hesitation. "She seems to be somewhat...busy at the moment." He eyed a pad of paper and a pen behind the bar. "I will...take a message for you, if you wish."

"Oh, thank you so much. I really wish I could talk with her in person, but I've got to run."

"...One moment, please."

"But I-"

Vincent couldn't help but notice a young girl with a bouncing red ponytail making her way to the front of the dining room from the back entrance. She carried with her a server's apron, some pens, and a bottled juice. He watched her warily as she took a quick glance around the room, just to see if it was set up correctly. She started when her eyes came to rest on him.

"Gagh! How did you-?" She looked at the front door in alarm to see that it was still bolted. It was. The girl's eyes grew wide in panic, and she grabbed a decorative bottle of coconut liquor from the shelf, ready to break it against one of the tables, sacrificing it as a crude tool with which to save herself. However, she was interrupted by a shout from the back.

"Karlie, would you mind keeping Vincent company until I can get back up there?" Tifa's voice came wafting through the room.

Karlie's eyes darted from the bottle in her hand to Vincent, and then to the kitchen entrance. She eyed him suspiciously still, but she could see no other in the room, so she could only assume that this was Tifa's friend. She berated herself for her harsh greeting after she remembered Tifa telling her of his visit earlier that morning on the phone. She had just never imagined someone so...dark.

Karlie walked forward, a hint of crimson in her cheeks. She extended her hand to Vincent, and he...

He placed the phone in her outstretched palm.

She looked at him like his interpretation of her gesture was ludicrous, but only cracked a smile as a rush of air escaped her chest. She took the phone from him and put it to her ear. "Hello?"

"...Miss Lockheart?"

"No, I'm sorry. She's busy right now. Can I take a message?"

Vincent watched as Karlie nodded, her hand writing furiously. The conversation lasted for a decent time, and even when she was done writing, she continued to doodle on the paper while she was talking to the woman. As far as he could gather, Karlie didn't even know the woman, but she could be aquainted with her by the way she was carrying on.

The conversation did come to an end however, and Karlie hung up the phone. She turned around abruptly, spinning on her heels as she did so. "I'm so sorry about earlier. Tifa told me this morning she'd be having a friend by, but I was just so startled..."

Vincent quirked an eyebrow, and let a smirk grace his features. This earned a smile from Karlie, who also didn't seem to be afraid of him at all. Perhaps Tifa had warned them...

"All right!" Tifa came bursting through the kitchen doors, a look on her face that said they were moving on to other things. "So, you two have met?"

Karlie nodded enthusiastically, while Vincent watched. "Is everything okay back there?" the redhead asked.

Tifa nodded. "Yes, but I'm going to have to go to the store." She turned to Vincent. "You can stay or come with me, or do whatever makes you happiest. I wish you wouldn't leave just yet though. I'm sorry I was so busy..."

Vincent shook his head. "I will come."

"Then it's settled!" Tifa exclaimed. "Karlie, will you be all right to open if I'm not back yet?"

Karlie nodded. "I'll be fine. I learned from the best, after all," she finished with a wink in Vincent's direction.

"Well, I'm ready." Tifa headed towards the back. "I'll meet you outside, Vincent. I've got to go get the funds." And with that, she disappeared into the back.

Karlie ripped the first sheet from the fat yellow notepad and handed it to Vincent. It was covered in busy red scrawl, typical of a speedy waitress. "Give that to Tifa, would you?" Karlie then went out towards the tables, examining them and making sure that everything was in order. Vincent took the paper outside with him.

Once outside, he stopped to see if he could decipher the messy writing. There was an address, and a name. It was a Costa del Sol location, and the name...well, the name was something he had never expected.

...Leilani Valentine?

Under any other circumstance, he might consider this coincidental. Now, Tifa was not a meddler, and she'd only reunited with him the night before. There was no way that she could have found this person in that short a time. Hell, he himself didn't know her whereabouts. And so it would normally be safe for him to consider this a coincidence. Just another Valentine out there in the world. With the same name.

However...

Thinking back on his brief conversation with the woman on the phone, he could definitely detect a familiar tone in her voice if he tried hard enough. Though it could be his mind playing tricks on him, making him recall what he wanted to. But something else rang true in his head. There was the undeniable fact that Tifa herself had revealed.

She'd been looking all over for him.

A pang of worry settled itself deep in his being. A consistent, reoccuring pang of uncertainty and insecurity. He worried that she might have found something. But what did it matter? She had already found him. If he was right, and the person on the phone really had been who he was now suspecting it to have been, would it really matter? He could just discard of the note...

He stared down at the cobblestone walkway, contemplating the sudden turn of events in his head. The soft singing of the birds above and the warm, unyielding sunlight were so peaceful, such an irritating contrast to the pounding in his chest, that he brought his hand quickly to his head in frustration.

He knew he couldn't discard of it. It was an unjust move on his part, to both parties involved. But then what? He couldn't give it to her. There was no way he could do that; what would come of it? If she went over there, who knows what she would find? And he didn't want to go along; he didn't want to be found, didn't want to go back to his past life.

He made his move.

He took the note, and he folded it into a small envelope, something his oldest sister had taught him as a child. And to think, he had thought it would never be of any use to him. And could she really suspect him of it?

Tifa emerged into the bright sunlight to come and stand beside him. She looked up at him with a smile on her face. "It's a nice day, isn't it?"

"...Yes. Yes it is." Silence. Then, "Karlie told me to give this to you." He handed her the small envelope.

Tifa frowned, then smiled again. "Well, isn't that cute?" She opened it, and read it to herself. He noticed a sudden change in her countenance and watched to see if he could gather any information from her reaction. Instead, she shoved it into her pocket. "Thanks," she said. "Ready?"

He nodded.

No, he wasn't ready. But he would bide his time. He would just have to deal with whatever came of it. Just because she would happen to find a thing or two out didn't mean she would understand. And if she did, would it be so bad?

Well, yes. ...Maybe.

Besides, she might not even go.