The train station was packed this early in the evening with people both heading home from work and those already heading out to have some fun. Cloud tried not to shift uneasily. With as high a profile as his terrorist persona and his actual self had now, even he questioned the intelligence of running around above the plate. Certain elements of Deepground, Avalanche, and the country of Wutai knew he was the terrorist Shinra was after. And he wasn't exactly keeping a low profile as himself forming a partnership with Dio.
Cloud shook his head slightly, forcing himself to focus. Now was not the time to be second guessing himself. He needed to stay sharp. Sephiroth would be at this meeting, and he was the next most likely person after Zack to see through Cloud's act.
He was out of his element already with what he was wearing. He'd ditched both the shorts and sweatshirt and had on plain, black, cargo pants, a gray shirt, and a loose, black jacket. Above the plate, his normal attire would look odd, be it the "Cloud" or the "CS Delivery" outfit. Most of the other people traveling through the train station were dressed a bit more formally than Cloud, but he just couldn't bring himself to dress up anymore than he already was. He could not, however, abandon his goggles. If anyone still wasn't aware of his enhancements, it would be certain parties within Shinra, and those were the ones he would prefer never to find out.
A stirring at the edges of his mind signaled the two Soldiers' arrival. Zack had ditched his armor, but he was still wearing his uniform. Sephiroth actually looked less formal in black slacks, a black button up, and a dark gray vest. The general was ignoring the gawkers that stared as they passed with practiced ease.
Cloud decided to meet them halfway and got a few incredulous looks of his own as he walked across the station toward them. He was careful to keep his pace casual, not wanting to show the confidence of his usual stride as that was something either Sephiroth or Zack could recognize.
"Hey, Spiky!" Zack said with a grin as he swooped in and just about broke Cloud's ribs with his hug. When he pulled back, his expression turned slightly morose, and he added, "Sorry again about meeting you up here." Zack shot a mock scowl in the general's direction. "Someone refuses to go below the plate."
Completely unruffled, Sephiroth said, "I refuse to allow another riot to start."
Cloud couldn't help but ask, "You started a riot?" as his brows rose. He'd never heard about rioting in Midgar until after he and Zack had escaped the labs and one of the Sephiroth manifestations had assassinated the president.
Expression remaining flat, Sephiroth's eyes locked on Cloud. "I did not start the riot." But the man wasn't volunteering any other information. Cloud certainly wasn't going to ask and risk antagonizing him.
Fortunately, Zack felt like elaborating. "Some idiots threw rocks at him, and his fans hospitalized them."
Cloud choked on a laugh.
Sephiroth appeared not to notice Cloud's reaction as he was glaring at Zack. "If those so-called fans had any true respect for me, they would not have forced me to arrest them."
"They don't care," Zack countered with a grin. "You said yourself that the anniversary is a Silver Elite holiday now. They were likely giddy to commit a felony in your defense."
A hint of a grimace flashed over Sephiroth's face. "They were only charged with misdemeanor crimes. The judge didn't consider the various purses and shoes used to beat the adolescents to hospitalization with as deadly weapons. It was merely battery instead of aggravated assault."
Zack burst out laughing. "You didn't tell me that before. We should go down there. I want to see your fans riot."
Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, but didn't respond.
Zack shook his head and threw an arm around Cloud's shoulder. "Come on then, let's get out of this crowd."
The people parted before them as Sephiroth fell into step on the other side of Zack. Cloud kept a surreptitious watch on the general, but he allowed himself to think about what had just happened.
Zack and Sephiroth had seemed rather at ease with each other. Zack was always friendly, but it seemed as though Sephiroth had been friendly as well, at least so far as the man could be friendly. Not a single one of Cloud's memories from Zack showed the two Soldiers to actually be friends, even though they had shared a friend in Angeal. Cloud hadn't thought the two had had enough time before the one went mad and the other nearly died to even become friends.
Cloud mentally shook himself. Perhaps he was reading to much into it. He could certainly imagine the pair putting on a false front to make Cloud feel more at ease.
"I hope you like the theater, buddy," Zack said as they left the train station. "There's not as much fun stuff to do up here, but the plays are alright. And then we'll go out to eat after."
So far as Cloud knew, he'd never attended a play in his life. They didn't have them in Nibelheim. He'd been poor as a Shinra infantryman. He couldn't afford the public exposure once he'd joined Avalanche. After meteor, there weren't any theaters left. Finally, once Edge had become a city in its own right, he was too busy with his delivery business, the bar, and the children to think about taking in a play.
Fortunately, Zack didn't seem to need an answer. "I thought 'I Want to be Your Canary' was pretty good, but that troop is performing in Junon now."
Cloud kept his mouth shut about how silly the title sounded. He'd never even heard of it.
"Loveless is always good." Zack grinned. "I haven't seen a bad performance of it yet no matter which company does it."
Loveless? Cloud eyed Sephiroth sideways as best he could with his goggles on. The general's face showed no expression, but Cloud had to wonder how the reminder of Genesis would affect him.
Of course, Cloud was curious about Loveless. The older Yuffie from the non-existent future had tried to explain it to him once. He wasn't quite sure how much of her explanation to accept considering all the bizarre analogies she used. After all, how could the relationship between the three friends in the story be similar to the nature of the Steal, Enemy Skill, and Mime materia? He could understand how, in Yuffie's mind, the hero would be the Steal materia, because everything revolved around stealing for the the White Rose of Wutai, but how the wanderer was an Enemy Skill and the prisoner was Mime he couldn't quite comprehend.
Sephiroth remained quiet as they walked while Zack nattered on about some mission he went on near Kalm where he was attacked by flocks and flocks of seven-foot birds. In fact, Sephiroth didn't say anything until Zack maneuvered Cloud into one of the ticket lines outside the theater.
"There's no reason to wait in line, Zack. I purchased our tickets earlier today."
"What?" Zack asked. "Why? Those things aren't cheap. This is supposed to be my treat." He actually sounded a bit upset.
"You would have purchased tickets in the lowest section closest to the pit orchestra," Sephiroth said simply.
"That's because those are the best seats," Zack said, apparently incredulous that this would even be a topic of conversation.
"I refuse to have half the audience staring at me instead of the performance."
Zack scowled. "You bought box seats, didn't you," he said flatly.
"Our seats are this way," Sephiroth said. He spun on his heel and aimed straight for a nearby staircase to the upper floors.
Zack sighed and tugged Cloud into following the general. "The big baby just doesn't want to sit in the middle of a bunch of people that might impede his movement in an emergency."
Sephiroth didn't react to Zack's assertion, but Cloud knew there was no way the enhanced Soldier wouldn't have heard the comment.
The main theater lobby had by no means been a loud area, but the upstairs hallway with its plush, maroon carpets and gold-gilded lighting fixtures was eerily quiet in comparison. There weren't even any other theater-goers to be seen. In fact, the only person Cloud had seen at all was the usher they'd passed at the top of the stairs that quietly pointed Sephiroth down the correct hallway.
They went through the door marked seventeen into a darkened room. Cloud hovered near the doorway while Sephiroth navigated across the room in the dark to what appeared, in the dim lighting, to be a food bar. Zack went the opposite direction of Sephiroth, apparently to the light switch. A soft lighting filled the space from a small, delicate chandelier in the center of the ceiling. This room was a bit more subtly colored, all in pale golds and creams.
Cloud shifted uneasily as he allowed the door to swing closed behind him. Being this close to the general in an enclosed space made him uneasy, especially with the Fusion Sword being secreted back at the church. It was like one of those dreams where halfway through, you realized you'd been naked the entire time. Cloud even felt like he had eyes on him, like he was being watched by someone he couldn't see.
Trying to distract himself from the sensation, Cloud watched Zack prowl around the room, poking into every nook he could find, even going so far as to pull up the cushions of several lounge chairs in search of loose change, or so he claimed. He kept about half of his attention on Sephiroth as well, though the man was rather boring. He pulled a plate from a lower cupboard, sparsely arrayed a few bits of vegetables, fruit, cheese, and crackers on in, poured himself a small glass of something that smelled like a mild wine, and slipped out the door opposite the one to the hall. He left it open so Cloud could see the theater auditorium beyond.
"Make yourself at home, Spiky," Zack said, as he picked up a potted tree that was actually taller than him. "Don't mind me." Cloud frowned as the man proceeded to move the tree across the room.
Cloud moved toward the food bar as Zack pushed one of the chairs to where the tree had been. Cloud couldn't figure out why the man would be rearranging the suite, but he figured it would annoy Zack more not to get the chance to explain himself.
Cloud took a few strawberries and a couple slices of cheese for his plate. He hesitated, and took one stick of celery and a carrot. He didn't want to eat much, didn't think he could really with Sephiroth so near, but also they were supposed to go out for dinner afterward. He didn't understand why they couldn't just eat here; there was certainly enough food for a meal.
Cloud ignored Zack, as the man was standing on a chair, fiddling with the chandelier now, and made for the door to the theater. Unlike the lower auditorium, which Cloud could see from this high up, the seats were movable chairs, not the smaller, folding ones bolted to the floor like the lower auditorium had. These were actually plush chairs, upholstered in a pale green. But this presented Cloud with a problem. There were only three chairs, and Sephiroth was seated in the middle one.
There was clearly enough space for four chairs. Sephiroth was seated in the one second to the left, and there was an empty space on the far right, leaving Cloud to sit either on the end to Sephiroth's right or to sandwich himself between the general and the wall.
Cloud half turned to eye the chair Zack was standing on. Yes, the Soldier had taken one of the chairs off the balcony to stand on. Why the man couldn't have used one of the chairs already in the lounge was a mystery. Cloud scowled. Dammit Zack. He'd been planning on putting Zack between himself and Sephiroth because the general was far less likely to plow through one of his own men to eliminate a threat, at least while he was sane.
But Cloud had already been standing there for too long. With a grimace, he walked out onto the balcony and angled to sit in the chair to Sephiroth's right. The general didn't visibly react when Cloud sat, but Cloud hadn't really expected him to. It was a bit surreal, however, to see Sephiroth casually eating a bit of cheese.
A few quick footsteps were all the warning Cloud had before Zack's hands were on his shoulders and the man himself was leaning down around Cloud's side. "Can I borrow your goggles, Spike? The lights are going to blind me."
Cloud's brows drew down in a frown, but Zack kept on. "We're too high up. No one will see your eyes. It's not like they have cameras on the audience." Then the hands on Cloud's shoulders darted up and Zack outright stole the goggles before Cloud could stop him.
Frown creasing his forehead, Cloud refocused on his food and the auditorium in front of him. He supposed Zack was right about the surveillance, and it wasn't like Zack hadn't already probably told Sephiroth about Cloud's mako-infused eyes. But now he couldn't eye the general sideways without the man seeing. The googles had hidden Cloud's watchful gaze, and now he'd have to rely on hearing it if the man made any sudden moves. Cloud couldn't even risk opening up his senses to feel the man because surely both Soldiers would recognize the sensation from the last time Cloud used it. The slight presence that trickled through his clamped down senses just wasn't enough to properly discern intent.
"I assume," Sephiroth said quietly, "that proper introductions are not necessary. Zack failed to actually introduce us."
Cloud was proud that he hadn't flinched when the man broke the silence. "No, it's fine. I know who you are." The general wasn't looking at him still, his eyes focusing more on his food or the filling theater below their balcony.
Sephiroth nodded. "Zack has spoken of you as well."
Cloud only nodded, unsure of if he was supposed to keep the conversation going. Turning his eyes back to his plate, he tried to drum up some of the appetite he didn't have much of in the first place. Gaia, this was awkward. And he still didn't know what the hell Zack was doing with the chandelier. The light was flickering now. What perhaps perturbed him, if anything did, was that Sephiroth was completely unaffected by Zack's behavior. That this was normal for Zack, while Cloud didn't have any memory of or strange inclination to meddle with furniture and light fixtures, was a bit unnerving.
Sephiroth's observations were woefully inadequate. He wasn't used to people not giving away things they didn't mean to, but Zack's friend Strife was a careful person. It didn't help that many of Strife's reactions were hidden in his eyes behind those goggles. Despite the ridiculous, romantic notions many had about reading the soul in the eyes, there was a grain of truth. Many emotions could be discerned through pupillary reaction alone, and intention could be predicted with how the eyes moved.
Zack had said at the beginning of the evening that he would try to get Strife to remove the goggles, but apparently, Zack's propensity to rearrange these suites to better suite his tastes had given him the perfect opportunity to do exactly that.
Strife clearly wasn't happy, but he apparently didn't think it was worth it to argue with Zack. That was something Sephiroth agreed with him on. Sometimes, it was easier to simply let the First have his way. He was less inclined to argue about important things when he "won" meaningless concessions.
Refocusing on Strife, he ran through the observations he'd made so far, attempting to determine if he actually could make a comparison between him and the elusive CS Delivery.
Strife was confident—it was clear in his stride—but not so confident that he matched the persona of the man who didn't so much as flinch at facing off against Sephiroth himself. Strife was wary and observant, as he seemed to always have a bit of attention on Sephiroth and Zack, but he didn't have the seemingly preternatural awareness that CS Delivery had fought Sephiroth with. Strife wasn't completely averse to being near him. He could have waited until Zack was finished with the chair, but he chose to sit next to the general anyway.
Perhaps these observations would be useful if the motivation behind them wasn't so ambiguous. Perhaps Strife was more confident when he had a weapon and would match CS Delivery if he were armed. Perhaps Strife was wary and observant because he worried about being found out as a terrorist. Perhaps he was simply anxious about being detained in a lab. Perhaps he felt he didn't need an uncanny awareness of his surroundings when he wasn't suspected of unlawful behavior.
Any and all of his behavior could be explained away by simple nerves. And it grated on Sephiroth's analytical skills. He should be able to puzzle this out. He'd been training on strategy and psychology since before he could remember. He'd explained it away before as having never met Strife and it being difficult to assess someone through another person's vicarious experiences.
So far, the only thing Strife had legitimately in common with CS Delivery, besides being identical in height, was Sephiroth's seeming lack of ability in reading him. At least Sephiroth could continue his observations peripherally. It was a skill he'd perfected in the labs, and he was reasonably confident that Strife hadn't noticed Sephiroth's observations as of yet.
"There," Zack declared, emerging from the suite, the fourth chair in hand. "All finished."
As he set the chair down on Strife's other side and flopped down in said seat, Sephiroth turned his head slightly to see the lights in the chandelier shining a bit more dimly. He really wished he could find some kind of regulation about illumination that he could use to force Zack to stop fiddling with the wiring of lighting fixtures. It didn't make any sense to him that the man wanted dimmer lighting, or why he insisted on messing with other people's wiring when it was unlikely he'd ever be in a position to benefit from his ministrations again.
"What were you doing?" Strife asked. Not even the man's voice was quite like the one Sephiroth had heard.
"Making the lights a bit more efficient," Zack said. "They're dimmer now, but they're still bright enough, and now the theater will save a bit of gil."
Sephiroth didn't believe it. Zack had given him the same line the first time he'd asked. Out of curiosity, Sephiroth had estimated the reduced power usage and compared it to the costs of normal lighting and the savings was perhaps forty gil for an entire year. Children in the slums pick pocketed more than that in a morning. Unfortunately, Zack refused to admit to any other motivation and Sephiroth was unwilling to push for such a seemingly inconsequential thing.
If Strife's skeptically quirked brow was any indication, he didn't believe Zack's reasoning either. Zack paid no mind, however, and turned his attention to the plate overflowing with food. It made Sephiroth wonder if he should eat more, or suggest that Strife eat more, because surely it meant Zack thought wherever he was taking them to dinner didn't have terribly good food if he was eating this much now.
"Looks like it's starting," Zack said, in between bites. At least the man was eating quietly.
And he was right. The lights were dimming, the ushers vacating the theater floor, and the other patrons were quieting. There was a bit of a frown on Strife's face as his gaze darted everywhere in the theater from the ushers and patrons to the gathering pit orchestra. If Sephiroth had to explain it, he would say the younger man had never been to a play before, which didn't entirely make sense. Infantrymen certainly made enough to afford the tickets, and their schedule weren't so demanding that it prevented them from having a social life. According to his file, Strife had been in Junon and then Midgar for two years.
But then, as the theater went dark and the lights on the stage grew brighter, some of Strife's attention seemed to fall away from Sephiroth and Zack as it shifted to the play. Sephiroth disliked that he couldn't tell if the shift was from overconfidence in his abilities against two Soldiers should he suddenly be attacked or genuine interest in the play.
At least the dimmer lighting gave Sephiroth a better view of Strife's eyes. Zack wasn't exaggerating when he estimated Strife's enhancement to be at or near Sephiroth's level. The glow was far more than Zack had, and Sephiroth couldn't say it was less than his own. He also found it intriguing that there were small flecks of green near the limbal rings of Strife's clearly blue eyes. He'd not seen that even in Angeal or Genesis, who were the only documented cases of having received mako in nearly the same quantities as Sephiroth.
The opening overture filled the hall with a haunting melody. The curtains swept open slowly, revealing a single actor on stage. As he was wearing a suit, Sephiroth took him for the narrator. His voice carried through the hall, over the music, as he said, "When the war of the beasts bring the world's end, the goddess descends from the sky, wings of light and dark spread afar, she guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting."
He exited the stage as the other actors swept onto the stage and the lights came up. The orchestral music swelled and moved to the movements of the performers. They weren't dancing per se, just utilizing rhythmic movements and gestures frequently emphasized by the music.
Sephiroth didn't pay much mind to the actual play. A war starts. Some divine being participates. Three men seek her, but are separated by the war: one a hero, one a prisoner, and one a wanderer. The prisoner escapes, runs from the war, and falls in love. Eventually the prisoner leaves to find his friends as the war is bringing about the end of the world. The wanderer finds him first and engages his friend in a duel to the death. The prisoner can't kill his friend and willingly dies. This changes the wanderer, the prisoner's death being the gift of the goddess, and the world is saved.
It was all very dull. The wanderer was a spiteful fool in Sephiroth's opinion, and the prisoner was just as much of a fool. It didn't make any sense that one idiot's self-sacrifice would save the world when the wanderer wasn't even on the enemy side. Did a ridiculous duel make the opponents in the war realize that their enemy wasn't worth destroying? And where was the hero in all this? He didn't even factor into the significant plot events of the second half of the story in any of the versions of the play that he'd seen.
No, Sephiroth wouldn't be paying much attention to the performance. He'd been to enough plays under Genesis' urging that it didn't matter. This outing was about Strife anyway, not a play.
The subject in question was paying unusual attention to the performance. A slight crease marred Strife's brow as he frowned faintly at the stage. Even if Sephiroth's vision wasn't enhanced enough to see in the dim theater lighting, the glow from Strife's was bright enough to show exactly where the young man's attention was.
Strife's focus on the play was…odd. It was like he didn't know the story. On top of it being strange that he'd never been to a theater, apparently, not knowing the story of Loveless while living in Midgar was equivalent to not knowing who President Shinra was. It was simply unimaginable.
Perhaps Sephiroth was wrong. Perhaps he could bring it up as a topic of conversation during dinner. No one could accuse him of poor social skills if he asked how this performance compared to the others Strife had seen. The question implied Strife was cultured, assuming he'd attended plays before, and implied he had analytical skills for assuming he could make a comparative assessment between two different events of a similar nature.
Throughout the entirety of the play, Strife's attention didn't waver. Even Zack's comment during the fourth act about the conclusion of the fight between the prisoner and wanderer being "touching" was completely ignored.
As the lights came up and the cast was taking their bows, Zack threw an arm around Strife's shoulders and asked, "What did you think? I don't like the silent ones as much, but this was was still pretty good. It had great music. It almost made up for the fact that the only person that talked was the narrator."
"It was interesting," Strife said introspectively.
"Interesting?" Zack repeated dryly, pushing out of his seat then pulling Strife up as well. "That's all you've got to say? You've got to have more of an opinion that that."
Sephiroth followed as Zack pulled Strife toward the door.
"It was better than I thought," Strife said.
"How? Come on, Spike, details."
Rather than immediately answer, Strife snatched his goggles from Zack's pocket with speed only Soldiers, or particularly enhanced humans, possessed, and pulled them on before he opened the suite door himself. Strife then proceeded to stride quickly out of the room and down the hall, weaving between the other theater patrons as though he already knew where they were going to step. Zack was right on the younger man's heels, leaving Sephiroth to make his own way through the throng. He would have thought his passage easier, because as soon as people started noticing him, they immediately parted, leaving him a clear path, but Zack and Strife still beat him outside and were waiting for him in the square in front of the theater.
As he stepped outside, before he even approached them, he heard the thread of their conversation. It left him wondering about Strife's mental capacity.
"Seriously?" Zack asked, "how is it realistic. I get it from a literary standpoint, but it's hardly realistic. It's a story, it's not supposed to be realistic."
If Strife thought anything about Loveless was realistic, aside from the fact that people fall in love and die idiotically, then there was something gravely wrong with him.
"It's a metaphor, Zack," Strife said, frowning a bit. "I didn't mean realistic like the news or something. The characters and events are symbols that represent other things. What they represent is realistic, not what they are at face value."
Sephiroth quirked a brow, but if either of the two noticed, they didn't react. Zack just rolled his eyes and clamped a hand on Sephiroth's and Cloud's shoulders each, starting them walking down the street. Sephiroth was wondering if Strife had stumbled upon something similar to whatever understanding of the play that Genesis had. The former Soldier had always been fond of waxing poetic about the soul of the play. Even after he'd thrown a fireball at Sephiroth for pointing out to him that a play, lacking any sort of biological systems, could not house a soul as defined by popular philosophy.
"What exactly is the realistic part then?" Zack asked.
Strife sighed, giving Sephiroth the impression that he thought Zack should already understand this. "Any war is a war with beasts and it always threatens to bring an end to the world. Soldiers dehumanize their opponents all the time. It makes it easier to kill them. And everyone knows that if they lose the war, their enemies will win, and probably run roughshod all over the country changing things and generally getting rid of anything they don't like. That's the end of the world in a literal sense. It's just always left out that it's only an end that precedes another beginning. But that's not the point."
Sephiroth found that to be a rather astute, and surprisingly accurate, observation. It certainly made more sense than Genesis' insistence that all men are beasts, which, while true under the definition of a beast being an animal and humans being under the classification of all animals, still didn't make the play make any sense. And Strife was correct in the dehumanization of enemies. It was a common military tactic to promote support among the civilians and confidence in the troops.
"The goddess at the beginning is just hope. But since people have different hopes, it's not specific about what her gift is. And anyone with a lick of common sense or determination knows their hopes won't happen just because they wish it. They have to go out and push for it themselves."
Again true. And certainly made more sense than when Genesis said that the gift was ever changing, thus earning its description of infinite in mystery. If this was what Genesis meant, he'd certainly done a poor job of trying to explain it.
"Looking at the three friends, it's reasonable to assume that one would rise through the ranks, one might get so lost in obscurity that the armies just let him go, and another would be taken prisoner. If one's a prisoner and the other isn't part of any organized military, it makes sense that the high ranking officer, the hero, would leave the story at this point. He's got more to worry about than two old friends, he's got soldiers and civilians he's responsible for."
At least that point contradicted with Genesis' views. He'd always told Sephiroth that the hero had cared more for glory than his friends. It seemed Strife was of a similar mind to Sephiroth. A hero, or war veteran, had a duty to uphold that mere friendship couldn't negate.
"And people fall in love all the time. The prisoner found someone while he was in hiding. That could happen to anyone."
"But he abandoned the war," Zack said, confusion clear in his voice, shouldn't he have gone back to help?"
"Anything could go through a prisoner's mind, Zack," Strife said. "What if he thought he'd be caught and killed before he got back to his own lands? What if they put him back in prison? What if he thought his former allies wouldn't believe he escaped and killed or imprisoned him because they thought he deserted or turned spy? It's reasonable to think that any escaped prisoner of war would decide to hide in foreign territory rather than try to return home."
All valid, irrational thoughts, Sephiroth agreed. Anyone who didn't have the mental stability to cope with wartime imprisonment should be expected to have erratic behavior.
"But like just about anyone, he started to feel guilty and tried to go back. The wanderer finds him first, and he's just as irrational as any anyone else is capable of. He's probably jealous the prisoner found love. And jealous the hero had glory. All he had was a war with no one to recognize his deeds because everything he did was eclipsed by his friend. The hero was a better fighter and the prisoner was better at actually living a life outside of war. So in an irrational fit, he killed his friend."
Again, a rational assessment of human psyche. There were numerous cases within just Midgar itself of spouses killing each other over perceived slights and business partners killing each other over minor grievances. Even a pitiful thief might turn into a murderer if the victim they were robbing looked at them strangely enough.
"For whatever reason, the prisoner's death ended the war, be it from the enemy side winning or the wanderer feeling guilty for what he'd done and going to help the hero turn the tide. With the whole thing ended, hope is achieved. The prisoner's lover survived, the hero saved a bunch of people, and the wanderer learned to quit whining so he'd have some kind of peace. When you told me we were going to see the play, I'd actually thought it would be a whole lot more frivolous, full of some stupid rivalry between a bunch of soldiers, and a sappy romance. I think the original writer gave a whole lot more thought to the story than I expected."
That answered Sephiroth's question about whether Strife had seen the play performed. But now he had a new question. "How did you fail your psychological warfare and tactical application class three times, Strife?"
Strife's head angled slightly sideways, indicating he was likely looking at Sephiroth, though he couldn't say for certain as the goggles hid the younger man's eyes.
"There's always a right answer for a test. I never got the correct right answer."
Sephiroth could certainly believe that. Strife showed a highly intuitive approach to psychological analysis. Any of the classes offered to the army and potential Soldiers would have begun with the basics and followed strict guidelines meant to be used to build on knowledge, to build a more intuitive response. Strife's analysis was already intuitive.
"Enough of that," Zack said, throwing an arm around Strife's shoulders again. "Let's go eat. It's just around the corner here."
Sephiroth silently followed the other two, wondering just what else in Strife's file was incorrect because he didn't fit well within the standard parameters for assessment.
They were quickly seated in a back corner of a small restaurant that smelled of cilantro and cinnamon. An odd combination in Sephiroth's estimation. Sephiroth took the seat where his back would be to the corner, Zack had his back to the bulk of the restaurant, and Strife's back was aimed toward the kitchen.
Zack snatched up the menus before either Sephiroth or Strife could look at them and ordered when the waitress came to introduce herself. If he was so determined to order a large sampler platter for them, Sephiroth didn't think it worth it to argue.
"So what did you think of the play, Seph?" Zack asked. Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. "I know you've been to a few of them. How'd this one rate?"
"The orchestra was impressive. The acting was adequate. The presentation was above average. Overall, it was an adequate rendition of Loveless. I would not object to seeing it again, Zachary."
Frowning, Zack said, "My name's not Zachary."
Sephiroth countered with, "My name is not Seph." His mouth twisted around the ridiculous moniker.
"But Seph is a nickname," Zack said slowly, as though Sephiroth didn't understand the first dozen times Zack had tried to explain.
"Then so is Zachary."
"But it's longer than my real name."
"I can find no supporting evidence that nicknames must be shorter than the original. Therefore, if you insist on calling me by a name I do not like, then you will answer to a name you dislike."
"Can't you at least call me something more awesome sounding, like…," Zack frowned. "Like Zax or something."
"That's not even a real name," Sephiroth said simply.
Zack just huffed, rolling his eyes as his attention moved to the waitress bringing their appetizers. As with the main meal, the appetizers came in a sampler array. Sephiroth pulled some stuffed mushrooms and fried vegetables from the mix. Zack availed himself of something that looked rather like slime in a sea shell. Strife started with a skewer of small pieces of meat and fruit.
A bit of movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. A woman three tables away had a small, cinnamon-colored mu poking its head and tail out of the purse she had sitting on the tabletop. The corners of Sephiroth's mouth turned down. He still couldn't figure out why someone would willingly carry around a rodent type monster with them, let alone in a purse that likely had at least an ID card and cosmetics for it to defecate on.
"A couple years ago," Strife said, catching Sephiroth's attention as Strife appeared to be directing the comments at him, "some actress found a half dead mu in a dumpster behind a theater. She carried it around in her purse and nursed it back to health. Now people think it's trendy to carry a monster around."
Sephiroth stared. How could Strife know the answer to the question he'd never been asked when Turks and Soldiers didn't have a clue. Surely Genesis would have known the answer, but he and Angeal had been unique in their perceptiveness of Sephiroth's attention focus and unasked questions.
How on Gaia's green ground did Strife possess an ability that only the most physically advanced and intelligent beings on the planet had? He was a mere adolescent military dropout.
Cloud wished he'd never even opened his mouth. It had been instinct. He was too used to Marlene's and Denzel's incessant curiosity. Too used to Yuffie's insipid questions. He'd seen Sephiroth's eyes zero in on that stupid woman's damn rodent and just blurted out the answer to the unasked question so he wouldn't be pestered about it later.
Now the general was staring at him with an expression that was somewhat of a cross between the focused attention that generally came before he impaled Cloud with the Masamune, and what Cloud saw on other people's faces when they looked at Jenova's headless corpse in the old timeline.
Even Zack was staring at Cloud like he didn't recognize him, or he expected him to grow a third arm.
Just as Cloud was about to apologize for whatever had them so flabbergasted, Sephiroth asked another question.
"Why would emulating a celebrity's actions raise one's social status?" What made the question even weirder was that Sephiroth still had that hideous hybrid of an expression on his face.
"It doesn't," he said. "It's just fans posturing for each other, trying to prove they're more fanatical than all the other fans. They hope it will get the attention of their celebrity."
A bit of the incredulity in Sephiroth's expression faded while Zack's grows more shocked. Sephiroth's brow furrowed slightly. "Is that why my fans rioted?"
Cloud blinked behind his goggles. That was a strange leap in logic, but Cloud supposed it would only be natural to think of himself like a celebrity, especially with regards to the Silver Elite.
"You're a war hero," Cloud said with a slight shrug. "There are bound to be people who think you'll respect action the most."
Frown deepening, Sephiroth asked, "Do they think I'm a liar?"
Cloud could only assume that meant Sephiroth had tried to explain to them he'd rather have his fans follow the law, but they didn't change their behavior. "Not your fans. They probably think either you have to say that but secretly condone unlawfulness, or you only think you want them to do it because you either don't realize what you want or Shinra Company brainwashed you."
"Why?" Sephiroth asked sharply.
Cloud shrugged slightly again. "You are who your fans think you are regardless of who you actually are. Unless you get really involved with communicating to them, they're going to attempt to fill in the gaps themselves."
"By fabricating so-called facts?"
Cloud nodded. He had to wonder why no one bothered to explain fans to Sephiroth. It hadn't been as bad for Cloud after Geostigma, because people were too busy trying to rebuild so they had better things to do, and Vincent took the brunt of admiration after Omega, but he still knew a thing or two about what to expect and how to deal with the fanatical masses.
"Can we talk about something else?" Zack asked, a bit of uneasiness clear in his tone. "You guys are starting to freak me out."
After only a heartbeat's hesitation, Sephiroth turned back to Cloud and asked, "Why would this type of intelligent conversation unsettle Zack?"
One side of Cloud's mouth kicked up in a half smile. He could already see the indignation in Zack's eyes over the question. Perhaps this outing wasn't such a bad idea after all.