Tuesday

I Forgive You

The Turks gave her no reprieve, showing up just before midnight on Monday and staying through the wee hours of Tuesday. Tifa was just as amused as she'd been on Sunday. She would consider herself lucky if they ever chose to skip a night. They likely kept coming back to Seventh because it pissed her off.

Tonight was no different. They were closing the place down again, and Tifa used all her reserve patience not to hurl a shot glass at the redhead's throat every time he cackled. Only Yuffie was making it worse.

"Tifa!" The ninja slammed her body over the counter, reaching for Tifa as though she needed to be saved from a pack of Nibel wolves. "Help me!"

"Why don't you ask Vincent to help?" Tifa suggested, only because she liked the fear the former Turk elicited from his much younger contemporary.

"Are you crazy?" Yuffie shrieked. "Have you forgotten the chemical shower I gave him earlier?"

"Alright, what do you need?" Tifa asked, hand impatiently curled into a fist on her hip.

Whatever problem Yuffie needed help with was likely self-imposed. The younger woman had pounced on the Turks the moment the two showed up, saying she would 'teach those turkeys a lesson.' And off she went, sauntering toward their table where a loud competition over some unknown and likely immature game ensued.

"Ok, I may have bet your bar—but don't be upset. I didn't bet your bar like that! I just mean I may have promised they could decide some operational changes if they win—but! If I win, they have to drug Tseng and then let me shave his head and dye his scalp pink and green." Yuffie beamed at the insufficient explanation. Why didn't the girl simply gamble her materia or her father's temple? Why bring Tifa's bar into this?

"No," Tifa replied, giving Yuffie a curt shake of her head before turning back to drying her tumblers. "And leave my bar out of it."

"Tifa! Come on, think about it!" Yuffie pleaded, grabbing Tifa by her forearm and pressing her hand to Yuffie's cheek. "We can exact some pretty hilarious revenge on Tseng—and nobody has to get hurt. Think of everything he's done!"

Tifa stared at the small ninja, mulling over the truth of her words. Though they'd developed a precarious truce over the last couple of years since the remnants debacle, Tifa admitted that the Turks' past deeds still crossed her mind every time she saw them. This was a tempting offer. And Yuffie had a point. No one would get hurt—physically.

She tossed the dishtowel into the sink and looked over to their usual table. Rude sat ramrod straight, hands cupped around his scotch, thinking about gods knew what in silence behind those sunglasses. Reno stared her down with a lustful glint in his eyes, arms lazily draped over the top of the booth.

"Fine," she agreed, wanting to wipe that wicked grin off the redhead's face any way she could. A bar bet would do nicely.

"Yes!" Yuffie skipped back over to the table. "Ok, turkeys. You're in for it now. I've brought back up."

"You think that'll help, princess?" Reno drawled, rubbing his chin with a hand. "I seem to recall we're ahead, yo. By a lot!"

"Well, get ready cause my girl is here, matchstick!"

Tifa eyed the table suspiciously. They'd repurposed two sets of her long handle teaspoons into a 3-ring bullseye in the center of the table. Bottlecaps in various states of ruin were scattered around the makeshift target. Easy enough to get one in the center.

"Not as easy as it looks, babe," Reno interrupted her thoughts. His mouth pulled into a lopsided grin as he held a single materia in his hand, balancing the green orb at the edge of the table. Probably lightning. "Rude? Care to do the honors?"

"Certainly," the bald Turk replied, positioning his materia behind a bottle cap. "The goal is the same as darts. You want to score the most points, no extra over 300 in no more than 10 throws. You can call score end whenever you like to take your highest possible in less than 10. Center is 100, next ring 50. Between the rings—consider spoons up 10, down 5. Up on the left between here is 20, down on the left is 15." He said as he pointed at the segments crossing the rings.

She nodded in understanding. Four dartboards were hanging on the walls around her bar, and as a bartender, she had to know various rule sets. His were simple enough to comprehend.

"Use your magic to shoot." At his last word, Rude shot a tiny fireball toward his bottle cap.

Tifa wasn't entirely sure what she expected, but Rude's effortless cast surprised her. She'd never seen the Turk use magic. His technique was flawless, and the bottle top flipped into the air and landed dead center in the bullseye.

Reno clapped twice and howled. "That's how it's done, girls! Let's see it, Lockhart," he said before taking a swig of his beer.

Tifa removed her gloves from a back pocket and wiggled a green materia free. She grabbed a bottlecap and set it on the table in front of her. With her materia positioned with a fingertip, she imagined a straight line from her hand, through the materia, and to the cap. The power within the orb stirred, and a warm surge of invisible energy seeped into her finger, traveling up her wrist before she focused all her concentration into the flow and forced it out into the cap. Her intense concentration was successful, and a minuscule shard of ice ejected from the materia and straight at the bottlecap. The small metal piece airlifted for a moment before landing just inside the bullseye.

Yuffie jumped in the air in excitement. "Woohoo, turkeys! Get ready to lose and buy me some shaving cream. There'll be two of you with the bald crown! Up top, baby!" Yuffie raised her hands in the air, which Tifa enthusiastically slapped with her own. She could do this kind of game. No problem.

"Ok, so how far behind are we?" Tifa asked, drawing a sudden frown from Yuffie's beaming features.

Reno snickered as his partner answered, "6 Months, 2 Weeks, 5 Minutes."

Tifa looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean? 6 Months, 2 Weeks, 5 Minutes until what?" Tifa asked, hoping Yuffie didn't bet them use of the bar for that long or something else she'd object to.

"That's how long we're in charge of dressing you and your staff," Reno supplied, then grinned at her shocked expression.

"I don't agree to those terms," Tifa snapped, piercing Yuffie with an evil glare. "I want to leave my staff out of this! And how exactly did you manage to lose so spectacularly?" She glared at her young friend, who only shrugged her shoulders innocently in response.

"Steal materia don't work for this kinda thing, yo," Reno answered for Yuffie as the girl's mouth popped open and shut soundlessly.

"Tell me you weren't using Steal materia for this game, Yuffie." Tifa was beyond exasperated with the girl. Why did she even let the little ninja step into the bar at all?

"Oh, it was the cheating that added all the extra time, babe. Your little thief here was trying to use her Steal to pull my partner's cap outta the ring. Weren't ya, pipsqueak."

"It wasn't cheating!" Yuffie shrieked, fists balled on the table. "No one said we couldn't run interference!"

"That's against the rules," Rude interjected, arms crossed but otherwise emotionless.

"I tell ya what," Reno simpered, pulling Tifa's gaze to his. He waved a hand between himself and Rude. "We're benevolent kinda guys—uh, Turks. We don't like the appearance of a hustle against defenseless little women. So, I gotta proposition for ya," he gave her a wicked smirk, probably banking on her finding him cute.

"And what's that," Tifa asked, leery of whatever lewd suggestion he was about to make.

"Let's you and me have a go," he drawled with a sultry voice. The side of his mouth tilted into a grin when she blushed. "Best two outta three. We'll forgive and forget the little ninja thief's mischief. Whaddya say?"

His eyes burned into hers, smoldering with lustful promise though he only challenged her to a bar game. She considered him for a moment. "Ok, but I don't like the original terms. Leave my staff out of it."

"You got it, babe, but we get to choose a uniform for you and your materia bandit here for a full week," he countered.

"I can live with that only if we're fully covered. No bikinis or straps, or strap-ons, or strategic holes, or side boob, or cutouts, or—what am I leaving out?" Tifa looked to Yuffie for assistance.

"Or see-through!" The younger woman helpfully chimed in.

"Right or see-through. Nothing to suggest this is a bordello."

Reno and Rude stared at her for a moment as though distracted by the thought. Reno quickly recovered and shook his head. "No problem, babe. Now let's get—"

"Hang on a second," Tifa interrupted. "What if you lose?"

"I ain't gonna lose, babe," Reno replied with a cocky tilt to his head.

Tifa ignored his arrogance and issued her own terms. "I like Yuffie's idea, but since there's two of us—we get to shave two of you."

"Rude's already bald, and what Tseng wakes up to ain't my fault." Reno shrugged, positioning his materia to start.

"Oh, not Rude," Tifa replied and shook her head with a sweet smile. "We get Tseng and you. Shaved heads—dyed scalps. We'll do the honors." Tifa pointed between herself and Yuffie.

"Yeah, fine. Whatever," he replied, tossing his head.

"Don't you want to ask Tseng?" Tifa asked, surprised—but not surprised Reno would make such a promise on his boss's behalf.

"Look, babe. I ain't gonna lose. Now let's do this." He held out a hand to her. "Ladies first, yo."

"Alright," Tifa said and settled herself in. Her green orb wobbled a bit under her fingertip, so she steadied it with two. Again focusing, she willed the energy flow through her arm and into the bottle cap, satisfied when another ice shard shot out from the materia and sent the top soaring into the center of the target. "Whoop! Bullseye!" She cheered, catching Yuffie's hand above her head.

"Your turn, turkey!" Yuffie jeered, lowering her head to look level at their game.

But by the end, Yuffie's cheering and taunting had turned into desperate pep talks and begging her champion to come through with an underdog win. Tifa only looked at the table in dejection, rubbing her sore wrist that ached painfully from the number of times the magic current coursed through her flesh in under an hour.

"Look, Lockhart. I get it. Maybe you ain't as good with materia as me," Reno said as he shot a small spark of lightning from his orb, which sent his bottlecap again to the center.

This wasn't his first time playing this particular game. And Tifa felt foolish for agreeing to get involved. He beat her three games in a row. "You ain't gonna balk, are ya?"

He was goading her. She was a bartender. Tifa knew that if you took the bet—you had to deliver. This was code in a bar, and she wouldn't have the Seventh Heaven name besmirched with rumors of an untrustworthy establishment with a dishonest barkeep. Her regulars expected her to keep things honorable.

"No, Reno," she replied, almost mournfully. "I won't change my mind."

"Alright, Lockhart. I promise nothing too awful or that will cause you to lose business. If anything, I'm willing to bet this will get you more customers." Reno replied with an innocent air.

"What do you have in mind?" Tifa eyed Rude out of the corner of her eye. An uncharacteristic wide grin spread across his face at her question.

"It's a surprise," Reno said with a wink. "We'll be back tomorrow with some new uniforms. And you're gonna have a piece of the life you never knew you wanted," Reno continued with that infuriating lascivious smile raking into his cheeks. "Nighty, night ladies." And the two left, triumphantly swaggering with bad sportsmanship out of the bar.

Tifa fumed and whirled on Yuffie, who only shook her head in disappointment. "To think I believed in you," the younger woman said as though none of this was her fault. "Don't worry, Tifa. I forgive you."