12.
As the appointed day matured to mid-afternoon and the revelers began to arrive, a low shadow darted along the fenceline. It started off as nothing more than a metaphoric afterthought, but rapidly grew more solid until it took the form of a large, shaggy wolf who seemed quite interested in sniffing around the property's many trees and sculpted shrubberies.
The wolf advanced with caution, at once drawn inexorably toward a certain unbalanced blond and yet unwilling to commit, much like that buxom brunette with a fondness for leather gear. He listened intently to the many sounds around him: the clucking of chickens, the braying of donkeys, the low thrum of a hovering helicopter. It was the last of these that lent the most to his sense of impending disaster. He gazed up mournfully at the Junon Rent-All chopper and wondered if the people on board might have any doggie treats. Probably not, he thought in his serene canine fashion. If it's anything like the Shinra 'copter, the pilot's already eaten them.
He turned his attention toward the house, aglow with festive lights in defiance of the coming darkness. He watched as Nero and the other Deepground SOLDIERs packed themselves into the crowded foyer, and the darkness outside diminished somewhat. He shook his grizzled head and pondered the odd seating arrangements that must, no doubt, have been addressed at length for this shindig. Oh, the things these humans do… Nothing for it but to stay and keep watch. I don't know what Cloud would do without me, but I wasn't exactly invited. Maybe they didn't have my address?
"Hey you! There's no wolves on the guest list."
The wolf startled, barely resisting the urge to piddle. "Who said that?"
"I did." A tiny, black, bat-eared animal waddled toward him, its eyes huge and round and savage. "Name's Francesca. I don't believe I know yours."
Uncertainty rang through the wolf's mind. Did he have a name? Had he ever had a name? There were those who thought his name might be "Zack" or "Zax", while others believed he was just a figment of Cloud's overwrought imagination or a symbol of his worldly regrets or some such. Either way, the wolf couldn't think of a good answer to give this odd little beastlette, so he offered his best lopsided doggie smile and said, "Don't really have one, friend."
Francesca sniffed haughtily. "You belong to any of these people?"
"Er…" What to say? If he admitted he was with Cloud, then those in favor of the "Zack" theory would have more than enough ammuntion for some pretty kinky fan-fic, a sobering thought. But if he didn't…
"Is 'dis guy givin' you trouble, precious?" A bone-white, pop-eyed creature joined the first. "Youze wants me to rough him up?"
I don't care if I AM sponsored by the Zack Fair International Fan Club – this is nuts!
"…where did he go?"
A/N: Apologies to Ms. Martha's pups Francesca and Sharkey, and to French bulldogs everywhere, but I just couldn't resist.