What? No real warnings? Enjoy!

Having decided on a time for the two of them to meet, Cid hurried to freshen up before Valentine arrived. After all, he'd hardly make a good impression if he opened the door looking the way he had immediately after work- they'd sent him into the sewers, of all places, to find a purse. Scarlet's purse, of course, and she had dropped it there on purpose, not to mention refused to use it again once Cid had returned it. On the plus side, his 'date' tonight had kept him in a relatively good mood through it all.

However, he knew Valentine would not appreciate his lateness any more than he would have appreciated the sewer smell. He did his best to rush through showering and dressing. It wouldn't do to keep such an important guest waiting. Shirt half-buttoned, and tie loosely dangling from his neck, Cid made for the door when he heard the firm knocking on it. "Just a second," he called, finding his glasses and making a pitiful attempt at taming his hair.

As he used one hand to open the door just widely enough to make sure it was Valentine, the other hand was busy trying to close the rest of the buttons. "Oh, hey! Come on in. Sorry, I was...that is, uh, do I still smell?"

Vincent frowned at the question as the cop opened the door the rest of the way so that he could enter the apartment. "What kind of question is…" then he caught the whiff of. Oh that's just disgusting, he thought, wrinkling his nose at the raw sewage smell that only just lingered in the air. "Yes," he said bluntly, removing his jacket to stand just inside the door. Highwind offered to take his jacket, and he reluctantly surrendered it, only mildly relieved to see the cop actually hang it on the coat rack carefully. He was then instructed to wait in the sitting room with a "make yerself comf'tble," which he proceeded to do by sitting gingerly on the worn leather couch.

While the cop busied himself in the kitchen and elsewhere doing…whatever it is he had yet to do, Vincent's thoughts drifted back to his car ride over here, and the brief conversation that he had had with Tseng.

"Shall I wait for you, sir?" his second had asked.

"That won't be necessary. But do not go too far. I do not foresee this taking long. They always want the same thing in the end." Once he got the cop off, he'd collect the mako he was due and then leave.

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" Tseng said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Do you really believe the cop wants that from you?"

"When have you ever known meetings like this to be mere social calls, Tseng?" he replied, and Tseng's silence was all the answer he had needed.

"Be careful, sir."

"Oh, I intend to. I'll give him what he wants and then leave. Simple as that," Vincent said wearily.

"If you say so, sir."

He had then gotten out of the car and walked toward the stairs leading into the apartment complex, spotting a dark shadow in the alleyway beside the building. He nodded to Verdot, and got exactly what he expected back: nothing. Not so much as a curious look; just another junkie without a home to go to. Good, Vincent thought, pleased that his end of the deal was being upheld.

Now he was sitting in Highwind's apartment, slowly growing impatient as the cop clattered around in his kitchen, mumbling something about 'no clean glasses'. He sighed and eased back into the cushions of the couch. He wondered how long it was going to take for the man to come out and demand his "payment".

Cid returned to the couch some five minutes later, mumbling apologies and fighting the heat that tried to rise in his cheeks. "I was plannin' t'be home a lot earlier. Y'shouldn't've had t'wait on me. I, uh, figured y'd rather have s'more o' that tea than anything else I got, so…"

Awkwardly, Cid handed a cup and saucer to Valentine and sat down a foot or so away from him. "Is there anything else I can getcha? I- o-oh, right. Y're here fer a reason, huh?" After setting his own tea –the cheap, non-authentic kind for himself, of course- on the table, Cid left the room again. He dug around in the nightstand for a while before remembering that he had put the mako in a safer, softer place. He did not have to fish through the sock drawer to find the handkerchief-wrapped tube he had placed there the day before.

Back in the living room, he handed the mako, still wrapped, to his guest, finding that this was one of those days on which he could not meet Valentine's eyes. "M'sorry fer th'smell," he said, taking Valentine's sneer as a sign that he had caught another whiff. "Practical joke at work," Cid explained. "Y'c'n guess who wasn't laughin'."

But there was another order of business, wasn't there? Cid had agreed to try to find information for Valentine. He hadn't heard much, but he had caught a few rumors of similar nature. "As fer that …job…y'set me…well, I ain't really sure what y'know an' what y'don't, but all I know is that there's rumors th'Modeoheim Syndicate's imposin' some kind o' threat on our end, an' Scarlet's thinkin' gettin' ShinRa's protection wouldn't be a bad idea. Just rumors, mind you, but I c'n only tell ya what I heard."

He let the information sink in before asking almost timidly, "Y'll still stay fer a while, won't ya? I get real lonely sometimes, an' comp'ny's nice."

Sipping the exquisite tea – he couldn't fault Highwind's taste there – Vincent frowned. He hadn't heard of anything that would indicate aggression from the Syndicate, and as far as he knew, Weiss and Nero detested ShinRa. What would they want with the authorities? He had found the culprit for the missing mako shipment, and had delivered acceptable punishment. Rosso had been thrilled to deliver the man's head back to her employers personally, along with the recovered mako. And if ShinRa were collaborating with Scarlet without including him, then he had no choice but to conclude that the business those two discussed involved him…somehow. That was distressing news indeed. He had to be more careful from now on.

But it was Highwind's last words that settled coldly in his stomach. He sighed and set his teacup down on the end table next to the wrapped mako tube. Well, that was certainly quick, Vincent thought sourly as he reached up to unbutton the top button of his silk shirt. Though his delivery is new. Vincent would tire of that hesitance very quickly if it continued. "Yes, I imagine it would get quite lonely where you are. Perhaps I can do something to help alleviate that loneliness, hm?" He crossed one long leg over the other and waited to see what the cop would do.

Cid blinked twice and stared for nearly half a minute before he realized what was happening, and when he did, he all but leapt from his seat. "What th'hell're you- shit, didn't I tell ya, didn't I promise, that I wouldn't ask anything like that? I ain't takin' it now, either! Shit…" Are you really so broken, Valentine? Cid was hurt, both for Valentine and for himself. Did he really project such an image? Was it really so easy to believe that he wanted to harm?

"Dammit, Valentine, is it so hard t'believe that I really just wanna have a conversation or two over tea sometime? I mean, Shera's nice comp'ny an' all, but she's a woman, an' so's Aer, an'…I'm so sorry to have made you think that." He was sincerely sorry, and afraid that he had irreparably ruined their deal. "I don't ever want you to feel like that's what I'm askin' or that's why y're here." Though in the past similar gestures had led to Reno all but assaulting him the next day, Cid reclaimed his seat on the couch gingerly and placed a hand on Valentine's face. "Never again," he said, feeling like a fool for making a request that could be interpreted in such a way.

He rose again and took Valentine's coat from the rack. "Go on home, Vincent, an' get some rest if y'can. I'll see ya next time." *

Vincent raised an eyebrow and shrugged easily. He could wait. His cheek was still warm where Highwind had touched him, and that bothered him a little that he marked the absence of the source of that warmth so much. "As you wish, Mr. Highwind." He picked up the mako and his teacup, carrying the latter into the kitchen as was proper. He then put on his jacket and reached for the door.

Cid caught the doorknob before Valentine did, and he held the door shut a while longer. "I guess," he began, looking at the floor, "that now I really must seem like every bit the naïve idiot I claim not to be. But…you will come back, right? That part's business. And just know…hell, I know this don't mean anything to a man like you, but if you ever need to…want to…happen t'be in the area, whatever- well, you feel free t'drop by here. If I'm in, you're welcome here." Cid thought that maybe he would have to look into having another key made. If ever Cid was unable to meet Valentine on an agreed-upon date, the mako still had to find its way to Valentine. That sort of thing could not wait. "Guess I'll be seein' ya," Cid said, reluctantly stepping aside and opening the door for his departing guest.

Vincent stood there, frowning slightly as he studied Highwind's flushed face and averted eyes. Finally he nodded and murmured, "I shall keep it in mind. Good evening, Mr. Highwind, and thank you for the tea." Flipping his collar up on his jacket, Vincent turned and made his way down the stairs, pausing once to look back up at the cop standing in the doorway; he met Highwind's eyes and nodded again before pulling out his phone and calling for Tseng to come and pick him up.

Even long after Vincent had left, Cid stood at the door, feeling the odd clenching in his chest. I don't understand why just bein' near you always has t'hurt so much.

They had passed only twenty minutes together. Cid wanted so badly to be able to talk with Valentine for hours on end, to find out what made him tick and preserve it so that he would always be able to be the man Cid had come to admire. Though sometimes, he wasn't sure what there was to admire, or even if Valentine was still ticking at all. Nonetheless, he would try again on their next meeting to have a reasonable conversation. He doubted they had much, if anything, in common, but Cid could pretend.

After a second shower accompanied by heavy scrubbing and the floral shampoo Shera had left, he allowed himself a pleasure for which he had recently had little time. He would never be a pilot now, much less ever have his hands on a plane's engine parts, but he could still read about it. Though by now he had practically memorized what went into building a biplane, he read over the information again, smiling wryly as he found a folded piece of paper bearing some quick sketches and the words "Tiny Bronco."

"Never happen," he told himself, but that did nothing to diminish the grin that had built up. If he could dream, he could believe, and if he could believe, he could make progress. He kissed the Bronco goodnight and tucked the plans back into the book. "If I ever getcha built, ol' girl, Valentine'll be m'first passenger, I guarantee ya that." He placed the book carefully on the edge of the table and lay down, ready for the sleep that promised for once to be whole.

"That was quick, sir," Tseng said as Vincent got into the car.

"Yes, it was," he replied.

"And that would lead me to conclude that things didn't go exactly as you suspected they would?"

"Correct in your conclusion, Tseng," Vincent said, staring out the window as they slowly drove back to the ShinRa Tower.

"Is it really so difficult to think that the cop only wants to talk to you, Vincent?" Tseng said softly. "That there is no ulterior motive?"

"Hn." He grunted. Pulling out the mako tube, he carefully unwrapped the glowing chemical, taking pains to not even touch the glass. This strain of mako formulation always made him react; from nausea to an outright rash, all the way to violent seizures if consumed or injected; the strain that ran through his own veins was vehemently incompatible to that which he held now in his hand. But those were not the thoughts that he entertained at the moment. Rather his thoughts were centered around one Cid Highwind who had thoroughly befuddled him, raised his paranoia even as he was strangely reassured. Perhaps Tseng was right, but did he dare drop his guard? Even a little? There was just too much to lose. Too much pain had gone into getting him this far, and he was so very close to the end. If he dared to let Highwind get too close then the cop could blow his world apart, and there would be no escape then, save for death.

"Sir?"

"Just drive, Tseng," he murmured, fingers wrapping around the cloth-wrapped mako tube tightly. "Just drive."

"Yes, sir."