In the movies Tifa had always been under the impression when a good looking man taught a woman how to use a gun, there was something else involved. Like he would take opportunities to touch her and other such silly things. She didn't figure that's what Veld had meant, and she wasn't wrong.

He was quite the drill sergeant, really.

"Your safety is still on. You need to turn it off."

"I know, you went over that already."

"It won't work if you don't."

"I've got it."

She realized this wasn't completely right, but it kind of was. They'd been yelling at each other only a half hour prior, and now he was barking instructions and she was shooting empty beer bottles that he'd gotten from the bar down the way. Well, trying to shoot them.

The rifle he'd gotten was still sitting inside. He mumbled about needing to clean it. So he used a couple of pistols. It wasn't showing off, Tifa figured he was the kind that needed to keep both his hands busy to get over the urge to fight with someone.

She didn't want to fight. But she didn't want to just sit back either. Quite frankly she was tired of sitting back and letting things happen.

Her aim was terrible.

"I didn't sell it."

Veld had settled into a sort of pattern. It was quite obvious he'd practice for years this way, not unlike how she had patterns of exercises that she did. He was a distance fighter, he kept it at arm's length.

It made sense.

"Are you attempting to be honest?"

Glass made a strange sound when it broke. Shattered. "I figured since the dirty laundry is all out, I might as well come clean."

She snorted. "I didn't read yours."

"You have a strange method for research and spying, then. Why not just go to the source."

And now that Tifa had time to think... yes she had meant to do that. Kissing him had been way too quick and he'd quite obviously been startled by it, but she thought that he'd responded back, just a little. She just wanted to know if she was imagining that there was this strange thing between them, or if she was chasing someone again.

Well, not like she'd caught anything. And she wasn't sure if she wanted to, given his history of hiding things and well, lying. Tifa couldn't help the questions, because despite the discoveries she'd made, she still... she still didn't know.

It was frustrating.

"Why go looking at buttons and ribbons instead of reading my diary or something?"

"You keep a diary?"

"No, why would I do that? I stopped being fourteen quite a bit ago."

"Don't hold your elbow like that."

"Are you always this nit-picky?"

"When the recoil gives you a sore elbow and arm, you won't complain."

She adjusted her elbow. "So did you look through it?"

He was reloading. They would be wasting bullets if this was any other time, but a bullet sitting in peace-time was a bullet wasted anyway. Like she didn't know why she bothered to stay in shape. Tifa could just let herself be plump and be done with it. Roly poly and everything.

"Aim lower next time." There was a click as the revolver chamber went back into place. "It wasn't very revealing."

"Well, neither was your box either."

A couple of quick shots and two more bottles were made into nothing better than mosaic material. "Are we going to have a problem?"

But she knew that he could get angry, and she liked it. It was a lot better than his politeness. It was honest. Sure, maybe part of the politeness was honest, but not all of it. Just like her optimism. Because part of her knew that things would go wrong, even with the best intentions. Tifa just didn't want them to happen like that.

It was realistic.

"I'm not going to be waiting around in a negligee during working hours to seduce you or anything, no."

Oh, he was a prude. Any other man would have smirked or something at such a statement. He looked vaguely horrified.

"That's not what I meant. I mean, about the prying."

She hit a bottle on a ricochet. Dumb luck.

"On both our parts? Because this isn't one sided."

Tifa had to hear herself talk for a minute, to realize what she'd said.

Veld kicked aside a casing. "You need practice. I think you understand the basics enough. If you want to learn."

He'd ask. She knew it. He would.

ooo

Veld had never cared for distractions. Diversions only when they'd been penciled in. Appearances, sometimes. But distractions were unpredictable. Distractions were unnecessary.

It fell under the placement thing again. He never wanted to admit just how much stock he took in that system.

Tifa hadn't pressed the issue. She was waiting. He was beginning to see that her weapon was patience.

"So you still go by Veld these days."

Of course, the more he learned about her, the more he realized that there were a lot of sneaky things about Tifa. Like how she never waited around alone.

"And I hear you still have your maiden name."

Shera hadn't changed much visually, but there certainly was something less nervous in her voice. He didn't feel that instinct to reassure her, to make her feel less out of place. She had a slight presence now, an ability to make the surroundings conform to her instead.

And god how he feared when women got like that. Because when they got like that, the people within said surroundings, like he was now, conformed a little too.

"Sorry to just drop in like this, but Tifa had said you wouldn't mind."

"Of course, not, I only own the place."

To think that he thought Barret would be the most of his problems concerning the agreement that Tifa and he had come to. At least he had it in writing.

But the warning glance quelled his urge to be a bit prideful for the moment.

"She's not in?"

"She's out running. She does that several times a week. You're welcome to find a seat, just test them for wobbles first, if I were you."

And the shooting. He had to admit, the somewhat tough approach worked on most people. Challenge their abilities and often they will spend a long time trying to prove the challenger wrong. Tifa wasn't the type to lash out.

It was unsettling, this running list he was keeping; what Tifa did and did not do.

Shera found a rocking chair, and sat almost primly on it. She would have made a good matriarch at one time, but he knew enough about her career to understand that she'd never tolerate children she couldn't give back to their parents. It was the strange thing, about them. That other side of things he hadn't been involved in.

The people that had reformed earlier, he supposed.

The thing about them was the little families they created. An extended family of misplaced idealism, maybe, but one all the same. There were uncles and aunts and the young grandchild that everyone cared for. While his kids had been considerably more like a large, dysfunctional family, with fewer dispersed generations. But then, their life expectancy was a short one.

He'd gotten lost in thought again. There was a customer.

"How may I help you today?"

When she came back in, sweaty and healthy, he wasn't distracted. No no, not at all. He helped the young couple look for some toys, for they were expecting a child and wanted something different. Of course he showed them the little piano that Tifa had taken so much time to restore.

And he didn't look to see if she noticed. He was and would always be a stubborn man.

So when the ladies informed him they were going about town, he didn't say anything about his disapproval of the length, or lack thereof, of Tifa's skirt. Nor warn them about that one corner of town. He merely went through the register, making sure that his count was right for the fifth time.

He did, however, go to church that night.

ooo

Shera was wearing sunglasses she'd purchased from a gaudy tiki stand when they sat and drank their virgin drinks. Neither of them much cared for the alcohol, only the fruit. It was the kind of thing two old and young women did when they were away from the men and boys.

"So you kissed him. And?"

Tifa had relayed the story. There was a reason more than to annoy Veld that Shera was in the Costa area. A part of her would be embarrassed at the request, but it had taken years to get to this point; where they were really the better halves of that female sorority that happened when the men weren't looking. Tifa's female friends, like her loves, tended to disappear. Shera was still around.

She'd come to accept that bad things happened. And to not wait for them.

"There's nothing else. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"My mind hasn't always been in the gutter, thank you very much."

Tifa had to wonder if men did this too, sitting around and discussing women like they were discussing men. And how it sounded.

"Things like that don't happen if you don't want them too, you know."

Shera's honesty was a blunt force to the head, usually. It was surprising, considering the mousy thing she'd once been. But that was a completely different situation. Cid was only the impetus, not her whole life. Like Cloud. Tifa couldn't despise or hate him. Everyone needed a push in the beginning, needed a reason for why their life went in a certain direction. He was a good one. If they'd worked out, it would have been a nice life.

Now? Well, there were possibilities.

Tifa bit her straw. "I'm not really sure what I want to happen. He lies."

"Honesty only happens if you're completely secure with yourself."

Shera was wise, at times. Intelligence didn't always mean wisdom, and she certainly was intelligent. Rocket scientists tended to be that way. But Shera had some experience and a man that had spent the latter part of his life apologizing for the asshole he had been. Sometimes people failed. Didn't mean that they couldn't keep going and make the better of it.

Besides, she had her little revenge once in a while. It meant a lot that Cid would go through it. Men of action really said a lot through action.

"So what should I do?"

What was there to do? Tifa wasn't the hopeful young girl she once was. She was patient, but only for some things. Not everything. Some things needed action, and some things needed to be let go.

But no, he'd kept that box for her, hadn't he.

"Depends on what you want. The happy ending, or the pleasant one?"

That was why, out of all the women, all of the feminine forces in her life, she'd stayed the closest with Shera. Yuffie would never come to this conclusion. She was forever seeking glory, when all Tifa wanted to do was find somewhere good. Her only hope was that she would have someone to sit with her.

Maybe that was what maturity was. Not the expectation of passion, but the desire for comfort. Everyone needed comfort.

It thrummed like a guitar string, this understanding.

"I think I know what to do."

"Good. Now we can go to the beach and tease surfers."

ooo

The intruder was sleeping upstairs in Tifa's room, while he was downstairs. Sleep wasn't happening, so he did what he normally did when that occurred. He worked. Business was a slow and steady trickle, but that didn't mean he could sit back and let things collect dust.

Especially not now that it was all organized.

Veld thought it strange, the way that his messy little house had been worked through and sorted and lined up. No piles. He'd even built a couple shelves upon Tifa's instruction.

The intruder she had brought unsettled him more than it should have. He was positive that Tifa had told Shera just enough, considering the knowing glance she gave. It was one of the things that had always made him wary of women; their ways of banding against the male species for specific goals.

Not that he was a misogynist. He had a healthy respect, that was all. Tally had seen to that.

"So you really are trying to learn it."

Veld didn't need to look up at her. So maybe figuring out a few chords on the old guitar wasn't really work. Stringing it had been, though. People were so rough on their stringed instruments.

"It's a good thing to do when sleepless."

"You too? Do you mind?" He nodded and she pulled a chair up next to him. He was learning that guitars didn't make as sad sounds as cellos did.

"So everyone in that unit had a learn an instrument?"

"It was a good program. Shame that it got cut."

"You only play that sad sap classical stuff, though."

"And what would you play, tone deaf Valentine?"

"I'd start a rock band."

He wasn't really playing anything, and the silence beside him stretched out. A chord, a scale, no real definite pattern, yet she still didn't say anything. Tifa was clearly waiting on him.

Veld might as well say it. "Why do you have such a sad little memory box?"

"Why do you only listen to sad songs?"

Tifa took a breath. "I don't like that we're going about it this way."

He frowned. "What way?"

"Like an interview. Or spying. We're going about it all wrong."

He waited.

"I like that we're... we're pleasant together. All these dramatic and awful things that have happened to us or because of us, well, they don't matter. I don't want to chase boys. I don't want to chase you either."

Dramatic and awful things. That was a very good way of putting it. Even Lora, who was just an ordinary woman had helped cause a fair share of that. In actuality, he wasn't looking for Tifa's deep dark secrets. He was...

"I only wanted to know about the buttons and ribbons in your life."

"The small things and the sad things?"

"Something like that."

Her eyes were an ordinary and plain color. He could look at them. "Well, that's all I was really hoping for too."

"I'm bad at those sorts of things."

"But you're trying."

"Just as much as your shooting, yes."

It was hard for a man to stay platonic with a woman that smiled like that.