"So are you sleeping with him?"

Tifa stubbed her toe then, and had to hop most ungracefully about. Reno had called her graceful once, in the brief time they'd seen each other, but she'd always hated that. How men wrote her off as some being of femininity or something. She could be just as klutzy as any other person, martial arts training or no. The only thing that had been permanently affected graceful-wise was her posture. She couldn't slouch if she wanted to. She'd only just been walking back from the ladies' room, and Shera had asked about her job and all before that.

Oh, and Shera was still waiting for an answer. Right.

"Why would you assume that?"

Shera, whose glasses were smaller than when she first met her and afforded her something of a sharper edge, gave her a look that plainly stated that Tifa was being naïve. Then again, most people didn't really know Shera, or that in the woman's younger days she'd been something of a hot item.

"From what you described, he doesn't sound bad looking, and I am skeptical of the situation."

Shera even kept several of the old love letters she got while in college. Tifa envied anyone who got letters, as she found it to be one of the better forms of displaying a genuine interest. It took effort to write something to someone.

Though, Palmer's letter was riddled with spelling errors and an overabundance of the word "shiny".

"Skeptical? Hey, I'm the one that offered to work for him, not the other way around. He is not my sugar daddy, I know that's where your evil mind is going."

Shera only had one grey hair, and judging by the four times a year that the woman would up and leave Cid and watch him scramble around, unable to find anything without her meticulous inventory, it wasn't from him.

If anything, she was giving Cid grey hairs.

That's what was happening right now, as Shera watched with a somewhat mad scientist glint in her eye from afar. The patio of the steak and potatoes restaurant that was common in Rocket Town allowed them a clear view of her house--for Shera actually owned the house, not Cid, one of the reasons she'd turned down three marriage proposals. Tifa had to wonder how Cid never noticed that Shera never actually left Rocket Town when she pulled her tetra-annual charade.

Then again, Cid could hardly be called observant, especially when upset.

Considering how abusive Cid was between his failure with the rocket and their little adventure, Tifa didn't really blame Shera's skepticism. Besides, Cid generally did miss her when she'd take off. Despite their relationship being dysfunctional at best, Tifa thought it was one of the more stable ones out of the people she knew.

"I know men, Tifa. They say a lot of pretty things when they really want something."

"He's just a nice old man, Shera."

"That's what some people call the Captain now, and you should see him when--"

"I appreciate that you like talking to me, but please don't scar my mind. Cid's like an uncle almost and I just... just no."

Shera smiled in that cat-like way she sometimes did and leaned back in her seat. They could see Cid bullying the young mechanic that hung around their place.

"Does Mr. Benevolence have a name?"

"Veld. Kind of unusual sounding, don't you think?"

The cup in Shera's hand only made it halfway to her mouth. "Veld?"

"Parents must have been Cosman or something."

Shera shook her head. "No no. I know that name. He is about average height, brown hair, sophisticated looking, with a scar on his cheek?"

Of all the coincidences. Knowing Tifa's luck it was another of Shera's ex-suitors. For some reason, if that were the case, that bothered her. She wasn't quite sure why, but it rubbed her the wrong way.

"Oh, another one of your..."

"Don't be silly. He was the Turk leader at the time, I never really mingled with them much. Besides, it was rumored he was married to his job or gay or something."

Well, that explained the gun fascination. Tifa was starting to suspect he was ex-military of some kind. Turk made sense, really, as other types of soldiers might have a difficult time integrating into a peaceful society. As she'd seen by Reno, they never really lost their habits, but modified them.

She had to wonder if Veld was paranoid, too. Most ex-Shinra employees tended to have a degree of that, she'd noticed. Even the ones that seemed not to have a care in the world.

"You mean, before Tseng?"

Logically, there had to have been a Turk leader before Tseng. To think that she was working for one in what was likely a long line of them in a job that didn't involve general mayhem was sort of funny. The post-Meteor efforts of the group had really proven that they weren't evil. Not that Tifa would run up and hug Rufus any time soon, but she could understand that people weren't what they did.

Besides, they were moving on too. Just like she was. People didn't often think heroes had a hard time coping.

"Yes, that one. Only ran into him a couple times, personally, he seemed pretty well behaved. Unlike certain pilots." Shera sipped her drink then, and watched Cid throw what could only be described as a tantrum. Tifa felt sorry for the poor mechanic.

"I think Cid wouldn't be so explosive if you didn't keep testing his loyalty."

The cat-like grin again. "What do you think I love about him?"

ooo

It was a modest slim volume that he'd found. Not particularly old, but not really new either. A sensible bonus for a good employee. Veld wasn't sure if she liked radical Alexandrite poets, but Blake had an interesting appeal. And poetry was a lot easier than trying to gauge what kind of fiction she would appreciate.

He didn't want to think about it, but it came anyway. A memory, though thankfully a pleasant one, as far as his memories went.

"You're going to spoil them when you're leader, aren't you."

"Tally, I don't spoil people. But a little incentive never hurt anyone."

"So that's what this is? Incentive? Vin's going to be crushed if you word it like that."

"Why would that be?"

Thankfully, things were quite simple now. All the ghosts were properly buried and locked up in his filing cabinet. It wasn't such an obvious memory chest, but he'd always been a little odd about things.

Tifa's memory chest had been on his mind the couple of days she'd been gone. She wasn't due back until evening and the shadows were at their shortest. It had been a slow day and there had been no phone calls and he didn't dare touch her organization job.

Really, a slight peek couldn't hurt.

Within the now cooler confines of his makeshift office he looked at the chest more closely. It was more like a box, really, and the only thing that cause it to have the heavy distinction of being called a 'chest' was the brass latch on the front, which was locked.

Of course, locks had never stopped him. Paperclips were a Turk's favorite weapon, in all reality. The real work had been in espionage and intelligence.

The hinges creaked a little when he'd pried the lock open. And inside... well, he'd expected that someone's memories would be personal, but he couldn't understand why someone would have not one, but six thin pink ribbons. There were black buttons and some thread as well.

The ring made sense. Though it didn't strike him as the thing you'd give a woman. Not pretty, but well crafted. A wolf?

There was also a half bottle of aftershave... it smelled awful. He'd always hated perfume and cologne, though. It reminded him of prostitutes and board members and other such fake people.

No letters. No photographs.

In a lot of ways, it was a sad memory box. Even if he didn't know what each of the objects were from, they were clearly objects that had been left behind; not given. Except for maybe the ring, but even then, it didn't seem like it had been made for Tifa. At least not what he saw of Tifa.

Maybe because it was such a lonely little glimpse, Veld didn't feel guilty for looking. Even he had a letter in his collection. Even if he thought about burning it sometimes.

He didn't want to think about that.

He closed the lid and locked it again. Veld didn't want to be, but he was curious as to why someone like her would only have left behinds where her memories and gifts were supposed to go.

Maybe he would have to ask.

ooo

"I got you something."

They were both surprised by how the phrase, almost, but didn't quite match up when they said it. Tifa knew that the only hard liquor around Costa was tequila, so she'd made sure to pick up some whiskey while in Rocket Town. She didn't really like the taste of tequila, and she didn't figure Veld would. But whiskey she could at least make into something else he would like.

Sure, she was using an old bartender trick on him, and hoped he wouldn't see through it.

"Ah. Whiskey. Well, I got you something potent in a different way."

"Poetry. You do laundry, can cook, and can pick out poetry. There is something clearly off about you."

He scoffed. "Threatened?"

"I bet I could out drink you, at least."

Tifa had been a bartender, and good bartenders knew their own tolerance very well. They never imbibed while working, but after hours they had to check on some of the stock sometimes. That, and when she'd first come to Midgar, at a scared fifteen Barret had told her she'd better get used to the taste of it, before some idiot boy thought that they could pull the wool over her eyes.

Liquor was an education, not an addiction or pleasure. And bartenders, especially pretty ones, made good terrorists. She might have made a good Turk if the times had been different.

Of course, that's what she was going to ask a little about. It couldn't hurt.

"That wouldn't be hard. But if you would like to sit around and have eaten dinner already, as I have, I suppose that it would be impolite of me to refuse."

Impolite. She could probably get him on a few technicalities like that. Tifa hadn't wanted to pry Shera for information, and she had said that they didn't rub elbows much... but she couldn't help if this really was Veld. If Tseng was any indication, he'd been a serious man, which followed through but there was a sense of humor, which Tseng didn't have. So there was something different in Veld's life as a Turk. Maybe things had been easier then.

Maybe worse.

"I'll just make something simple." Maybe she shouldn't be worrying about that at all. The syrupy soda was cut considerably by this type of whiskey, and the combination was often palatable with even people who didn't like whiskey.

They sat around the front counter, Veld having had the foresight to close the blinds and put the 'Closed' sign on the door while she mixed the drinks. It wasn't very different from a bar counter, really.

"So how was your friend?" It was clear by the way he swallowed that he didn't care for alcohol. Politeness probably got him into lots of trouble sometimes.

"She was good. Just wanted someone to chat with."

"Hmm. So all caught up on your gossip?"

She let this kind of conversation, the polite and not really saying anything kind go on for a little longer. When she could tell the whiskey had started to take effect, she decided to drop it.

"So you were a Turk?"

The whiskey must have gone down the wrong pipe, considering he coughed a lot. She was almost worried for a moment, then he regained his composure.

"Guilty as charged. Are you interrogating me?"

"Just a little curious."

"The whiskey was a good trick. But you could have asked me more plainly."

"No, I don't think I could have."

He was too guarded a man, she knew that. It was easy to tell, from the way he dressed to the number of keys he carried to the way he inflected words; no discernable accent, as if he was worried about even betraying something as simple as where he was from.

"None of your family or ex-boyfriends or pets were killed by any Turks, were they? I'd hate to lose an assistant over something in the past like that."

So they all talked like that. Reno had said something similar, about the whole Plate deal. It wasn't personal, and she'd seen how they acted when they weren't being used improperly. Reno and Elena were essentially cops now, and Rude had gotten married and settled down. No, she couldn't be mad at them. They were adjusting much in the way her friends were. That's how it worked.

Rufus, on the other hand, that was someone that she still couldn't stomach. It hadn't just been a job for him, it was an ideal. Even his old Turks watched him closely.

"No... I guess I'm just surprised, is all. I'd never heard of you, and you know, some of them have mingled with my friends and I."

"I quit nearly... well, a long time ago. I think I much prefer this sort of work anyway."

"I used to sort of run with a dangerous crowd too."

"Did you now?"

She didn't know why, but that almost sounded sarcastic. Which was silly. Even if everyone had heard about what AVALANCHE did, few actually knew who the individual people were. Only Cloud was well known, really, and he'd seen to their relative anonymity. Reeve was more of a public figure now, but he was a politician and the only person of good conscience that had been in both Shinra and AVALANCHE.

That was all complicated stuff Tifa didn't want to bother with. So she didn't.

"Well, you were the Turk. You know what AVALANCHE is."

"The older incarnation, certainly. But you don't look old enough to have been with them. So you were part of that actually helpful group then?"

Again, almost sounded like sarcasm. Maybe she was just imagining it.

"Yup. I was right there with Cloud Strife and Aeris Gainsborough."

"So you were friends with the legendary swordsman and the inspiration for all those new churches. I'm glad you don't advertise this, I'd have more business than I can handle."

Tifa frowned. The churches. She normally ignored them, but it was beginning to be a bit of a popular denomination these days. Our Lady of the Water. She hated it, because she knew Aeris.

Which brought her to another question. "Did you ever... see Aeris?"

Veld looked slightly puzzled. "Why?"

"Well, since you were a Turk before Tseng... and he used to watch her..."

"So she was a good friend, then."

"My best friend." They'd gone through half the bottle. She hadn't noticed. Or maybe he'd made sure that she drank as much or more than he did. Sneaky man.

"If it'll make you feel better, I did. Once. She was very young, then, though. Good kid."

She giggled. "How old are you? You always make it sound like you're ancient."

"Old enough to be your father. Which is grounds for me to be an old man."

"Don't look it."

"Bah. So she was your best friend?" Veld was not easily distracted, clearly.

Tifa was tired of the stool she was sitting on. So she plopped onto the floor. Only a light buzz, which was good. She didn't actually want to get drunk.

"Yup. Though, you know, I have to wonder about some things."

Veld was slightly less graceful sitting on the floor too, but he managed to not break a hip or anything. It was easier to talk this way, with their backs against the counter like a couple of kids that found a good hiding spot in hide-and-seek. It reminded her of when she was twelve and talking to Johnny.

"Don't be revealing any deep dark secrets, I used to be Turk, I could... use it for something devious."

She laughed. Really, there was nothing wrong with these people. Tifa found it kind of silly now that she'd spent so long mad at them, only to realize they weren't that different from her. "Well, since you're so old, you might have heard something like this before. And it's too embarrassing to talk about with another woman."

"So no assaults on my manliness, maybe you should drink whiskey more often."

"I never made any fun of that. I just find it freakish that you're not completely lost in a domestic setting, I've had a lot of friends that were male. Now hush, I'm trying to be serious."

She did almost crack up at the expression he made, which was a little goofy. Tifa cleared her throat and attempted to be serious.

"I think Aeris might have liked me a little... you know more."

"There's nothing wrong with that." He answered a little too quickly.

"I'm not, you know, like that... but I mean, her at least I might not have minded? Do I sound really weird?"

"No, certain people are different, I guess."

She gave him a sly grin. "So... Shera said something about a rumor involving you."

"Oh god, which one? That I ate a live duck or seduced Mrs. Shinra?"

"That you were... you know..."

He sat up straighter. "As I stated before, there's nothing wrong with that."

"Uh huh." Whiskey made her slightly more bold. "So did you pitch?"

He looked mildly horrified. "Miss Lockheart, this conversation has taken a turn that I no longer feel comfortable with."

She snickered. "So you didn't."

It was then that he gave her what was commonly referred to as a 'wet willy'. Which was juvenile and yet made her laugh harder.

"Eww... boy germs..."

"I was married before, it was the exception, not the rule. So don't be getting any crazy ideas in your head."

She slumped a little, but didn't slouch. It was really annoying that she couldn't slouch. His shoulder was warm, though.

"And... I think we've had enough silliness for now. Time to go to bed."

Veld wasn't really so unsteady anymore, and she had to wonder the last time she actually saw him taking a sip of his drink. Sneaky man. At least he was nice enough to help her up. She had to wonder if he was always the steady person.

"Hey, thanks for listening. I think if I'd told any of the boys I know they would have made crass jokes or something."

Or there would have been a wicked fight. Like with Reno. Then again, she'd always been the type to chase boys that weren't ready to be caught yet.

"Well, I was always taught not to poke fun at certain things. Though you seem not to have been."

"Ha ha. Now help me up the stairs, Mr. Manners before I turn you into a pillow."

He did as he was asked. "Next time you take a trip..."

"I'll be sure to get you some kind of wine cooler or something."

He just shook his head, but half smiled. Tifa knew she had nothing to worry about. Though, eventually she'd get a little curious about locked filing cabinets.

But not yet.