This one just makes me happy.

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Cid frowned at his notebook, frowned at the clock, frowned at his notebook again, turned it upside down to get a different view, then settled it on his knee to begin sketching again. The notebook, 'Happy birthday, O' brother of mine' scrawled across the front, was a gift from Shera. Each page was half lined, half blank, and had been purchased for the sole purpose of him carrying it everywhere during the Rocket Project to write down his thoughts and ideas. It was often shoved into the large knee pocket of his cargo pants, but for the day he had to carry it around, since cargo pants really didn't go well for meetings with President Shinra. Which would explain why he was wearing a neat dress shirt. And a tie. And why his face was shaved neatly. And why he carried his precious, half-filled notebook on a 'professional-looking' clipboard.

Though it didn't explain why Palmer had the nerve to get him face to face with the almighty Prez for a full time of five minutes then kick him out to the waiting room while they yapped for....Cid looked up at the clock again. Well over an hour, now. Oh well, at least he had his notebook. He flipped it back over the right way and continued scratching out lines that slowly formed into a sketch of the secondary thruster for Shinra No. 14, the prototype rocket being built right at that moment, off on another contienent, in a small village just north of the Nible mountains. He scribbled down a few notes, reminding himself to check both the thruster and his laundry when he got back, and bent over the page again, adding in the feul supply line. He grinned in a recent memory of teasing Shera that he could draw perfectly straight lines free-hand and she couldn't and the resulting wet-teabag fight they'd had. Ah, the wonders and joys of being an annoying older brother.

Engrossed in both work and memory, Cid barely noted someone stepping up to the secretary's desk and speaking with the young woman. He dimly registered the secretary, in a flustered voice, telling the person that the good President was in a meeting and that he'd have to wait. A deep voice answered her and Cid glimpsed heavy black boots passing in front of him above the edge of his notebook. He turned the pad sideways and continued to sketch even as the person sat in the next plush armchair down. Not looking up, Cid motioned at a small table full of refreshments. "The cookies're pretty good," He said, "Though I warn you about the coffee. Tastes like paint thinner."

"Thank you for the warning, sir."

Cid glanced up at the sound of the person's voice, and had to keep his jaw from unhinging. The man in the next armchair was none other that the great White General himself, Sephiroth. The man lounged easily into the chair, watching Cid with eyes like materia. Cid blinked at him for a few moments, wondered if he was dreaming, shrugged and went back to his notebook. "No problem." He said. "I'm really not in the mood to see someone pass out from coffee-poisoning today."

Sephiroth lifted a brow. "It sounds as if you do not enjoy coffee." He said idly.

Cid snorted. "Hate the stuff. Tea for me, man. The occasional shot of whiskey isn't bad, but I go for the natural when I can get it." The entire time, he kept his eyes on his notebook and his hands busy. It was easier to talk to the man when he didn't have to look at him and think about every rumor he'd heard about the general.

"Your name is Highwind, is it not?"

Cid blinked in utter confusion, looking up at Sephiroth. "Yeah....it is." He said after a moment.

Sephiroth's lips curved into something like a smile. "I've seen you around." He said. "You are working with Palmer on the Space Program, are you not?" Cid nodded. "Interesting. You truly are trying to get to space?"

"Yeah, we are." Cid shrugged. "The final frontier, you know. I want to know what it's like."

Sephiroth looked at him for a moment, then down at Cid's notebook on it's temproary clipboard. "Trade secrets?" he asked.

Cid looked down at the notebook, a smile sliding across his face. "Nah," He said, sitting back properly into the chair. "Not secrets, anyway. My idea pad, reminder, and scratch paper all together." He unclipped it from the board and held it up. "I'd be lost without it, you know?"

"May I see it?" Cid hesitated a second, then handed the book over to the General. Sephiroth flipped through it for a long moment, pausing occasionally to read the notes scrawled across the pages, his lips sometimes quirking into a half smile or a concentrated frown. He came to the page Cid had been working on, looking thoughtful. "Fascinating." He said, handing it back. He glanced at the door to the President's office, then stood, crossing the room to the refreshment table and selecting a cookie off the tray. He popped the tiny thing in his mouth, then looked back at Cid as the door opened and Palmer waddled out. "You were right, these are good." he said calmly, ignoring Palmer completely. "Good luck on your project, Captain Highwind. I hope you achieve both the stars and your laundry." he turned and walked into the President's office, the door swinging shut behind him.

Palmer looked at Cid in complete confusion. Cid just shrugged, standing and clipping his notebook on his board again.