Reno couldn't help noticing that they were a rather ragged-looking crew by the time they arrived at the Icicle Inn. He surveyed all those assembled as they filed into the hotel the town had been more or less renamed for, stretching as best he could with Cait Sith still saddled on his shoulders. "Finally, time to take a rest."

Lyla had been released somewhere along the way, and now wandered beyond the rest of the group and towards the clerk at the desk, taking the liberties of handling their sleeping arrangements. She smirked to herself, if only slightly, as she slipped Ingram's company credit card out of her bag. Not that money meant much to him, and he never bothered with keeping track of what was spent on it, but privately, she found it satisfying.

Rufus leaned heavily on a solid black cane with an ornate silver handrest just beside Reno and Rude, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the place. "Been a long time," he mused aloud, "Just like all the rest. It seems like ages since I've seen anything beyond Midgar closer than from the deck of an airship."

"There you are, ma'am." The man who handed Lyla her card back over the counter turned to wave a hand towards the back. "Hey!" He called. "I'll be doing a check in. You wanna come man this for me a moment."

"Not my job~" Trilled a voice from somewhere behind the curve of the doorframe.

"C'mon."

The slim, blue-clad woman waved a hand at him as she slunk around the corner. Her high, laced shoes making a soft, even click against the floor. "Alright, alright. Go ahead."

He snorted as she sank against the counter, watching the patrons idly without actually turning her eyes face forward.

The other man nodded, taking down a key and darting off ahead, Vincent at his heels to be shown the rooms.

"It's really not necessary," Lyla began as the man came out from behind the desk with a number of tagged keys, "I'm sure we can all find our own way- Clarise?" she asked suddenly, turning her attention to the woman in blue.

Reno approached the desk from somewhere behind her, slumping against the counter and grinning broadly. "Get me something with a sweet view."

Cid had brought up the rear, having remained outside to finish up a phone conversation he had started while ushering everyone off the ship. Now he stood with his arms crossed, watching Vincent intently.

The woman behind the counter blinked, startling upright abruptly. "Huh? Oh! Hi, Lyla." She cocked her head, brows knitting. "Oh, been awhile, huh? Nice to see you're still very much alive."

"Remarkably," the brunette confessed, tucking Ingram's card back into her bag. "It's been, what, four years now? Ever since Ava-" She paused, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, if only very faintly. "Ever since we got news of that terrorist attack."

"Oh. Hey," Reno began, pointing at the woman. "You're the one who left to get donuts and never came back."

She blinked at him, wide eyed, then over at Lyla again. "Oh. Uhm. Yeah, well." She said sheepishly, flipping her hand out, palm up. "I mean. You know. It's a long way out here, and I had to walk, so. I'd say I made pretty good time, really."

"I hope you took the liberties of eating the donuts yourself," Lyla went on casually, "Since the boss wound up dead pretty shortly afterwards. Though if you have any left, we do have President Shinra the second with us."

"The prez has been kind of cranky lately, though," Reno supplied, "So something with sprinkles might be nice."

Clarise crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her inconsiderable weight to one hip. "So, you two are still together. That's nice t-..ooo...h. Oh. No," she amended, watching Lyla bite into a metaphorical lemon. "No, you are not. Well, okay. Still buddies, that's- not the case either. ...Hm." She cleared her throat. "So!" She began again, with the sterile, liquid cheer of a trained HR person. "What are you doing here, angry not-couple?"

Reno waved dismissively, propping himself up off the counter with his other hand. "Working. Or something. It started out as work."

"Kind of a long story," Lyla confessed, "That I will be happy to tell you at a later date when my head isn't throbbing quite so much."

The pale, gingery blond eyed them from one to another, drumming her blue-painted nails against the wooden countertop. "Well," she said after a moment, albeit a bit doubtfully. "That seems fair. Don't expect to find me at the desk though, don't spend much time here, generally."

"No? You don't work for the inn?" Lyla asked with a raised brow. "Just here for the ambience?"

She snorted, letting chin drop into hand. "So you're here for the stimulating shopping experience instead? But no, I teach snowboarding out on the North side. You'd be amazed how many morons try to make it from here to the bottom without a shred of know-how."

"Sounds like fun," Reno told her in earnest, crossing his arms over his chest and settling into a more relaxed stance, shifting his weight back to one foot. "Kind of sounds like heading into the glacier without lessons would mean a deathwish, though."

On the counter the slim woman tittered. "Oh man. You should've heard this one guy. I thought he was toast for sure-" she paused. "Well, metaphorically. More like a popsicle. A flat one."

Lyla winced sympathetically, biting gently at her lower lip, not expecting the sting it caused where she had drawn blood earlier. "That bad, really? Did it never occur to them to walk around the trail? Though I guess boarding down would be faster. Weren't they talking about having a ferry to the bottom installed?"

"Sometimes you just can't find the trail." The small woman shrugged. "Been literally up to my eyeballs in snow around here. The ferry was scheduled for a year or two ago, but after all the world-wide kicking and screaming, tourism's been a little more laid back than the norm, you know? Haven't put together the funds." She grinned. "As for that one guy, I've never seen worse. I offered him a basic lesson, but I guess he couldn't be bothered. -Man-, he was bad. And the real dig was that he was up and down like three times. Swear I could hear him screaming like a woman all the way down."

Reno laughed loudly, ruffling his own hair to brush some of it away from his face, taking a moment to readjust the glasses he kept on top of his head. "What an idiot. Hope you got some of it on camera," he told her with a smirk. "Yo, if you ladies will excuse me. Gonna go help Rude get the prez settled. Long day, you understand. With all of the watching the rest of us almost die." He half-waved as he turned his back and headed back across the lobby. Lyla turned her attention back to Clarise and smiled sheepishly.

"This many rooms has gotta add up to a fuckin' lot of dough," Cid commented as he caught up to Vincent and the concierge, having nearly raced up the stairs to do so. "Glad I ain't footin' the bill."

"That makes two of us." came the gunman's quiet reply. "You're not exactly easy company when there's something for you to complain about."

"Look, I jus' got an opinion an' I like to make sure it's heard, that's all," the pilot said pointedly. "Which, on the topic of bein' heard, I was on the phone with Shera outside, and I didn't tell her you had a girlfriend, but she's gonna figure it out eventually and I'm just sayin', brace yourself, 'cause then you're gonna be hearin' a whole lotta opinions that ain't your own. Don't tell or anything, but no matter what else I say, I didn't marry a dummy. She's got a sixth sense about people she thinks need domesticatin'."

The gunman twitched, turning a look over his shoulder. "She isn't my girlfriend." He said flatly.

Cid smiled benevolently, an expression that seemed somewhat out of place amidst all the scruff. "Maybe y'should inform her. Girl likes you."

His companion considered that, turning his eyes down the hallway. "Convenience." He said evenly. "My shoulder looks the right shape for now. Our experience is similar."

Cid shrugged, turning up one gloved hand for emphasis. "I'm just sayin'. Seems to like you a lot. An' I've caught you smilin', which you an' I both know is as rare as snow in fuckin' July. Kinda fits your profile, too, bein' a professional labcoat an' all. So if she ain't your girlfriend, maybe you better tell her that. Cause she's a nice girl, an' I'd hate to attend her funeral anytime soon." He grinned broadly, cigarette dangling loosely between his lips.

Vincent opened his mouth, only to close it again a moment later. Most wouldn't have noticed the gesture, half hidden behind cloak and hair, but he knew Cid had been around too long to miss it. With a grunt he turned back to the hallway, making more interest in selecting a room than he actually had.

"I wasn't smiling." He muttered, dangerously close to petulant.

Cid smirked in reply, even as he found himself faced with Vincent's backside. "Yeah, and that wasn't chucklin' I heard neither, am I right? You tell yourself what you like, jus' don't let it go too far 'cause you're bein' all stubborn and oblivious again. All I'm sayin'."

"Again?" He straightened, frowning at Cid over his shoulder- this time quite noticeably.

"Well. Situation might be new, but y'always think noone could possibly want t'spend time on you willingly. Y'were stubborn about even comin' over for dinner for months cause you thought we were just pityin' you," Cid pointed out.

Vincent sighed. "You're never going to forget that, are you." He said without really adding the aspect of question to it. "I'm not... social, Cid. I don't usually expect that people will think I am."

"Yeah, I know you're not, wouldn't expect y'to be any different," Cid assured him, reaching up to flick a bit of ash off his cigarette and into a potted plant. "It's 'cause you're not social that I thought it'd be nice t'warn you. Mighta noticed something before you, that's all."

Vincent sunk into his shoulders slightly, but nodded. "Well." He said slowly. "Thank you. I'll... speak with her."

"Jus' be discreet, I'm sure you can handle it," Cid assured his friend. "Just nippin' it in the bud before it becomes somethin' t'worry about. I'm gonna go check in with Shera, seems she ain't feelin' too well. Was hopin' to pick her up on our way through if we could, ship needs its other mechanic."

The gunman nodded, selecting a room at random of their number to push his way inside. "I guess I'll take advantage of the chance to wash up." He said simply, shutting the door with a small click behind him. "...Thanks." His voice slipped between the crack, almost grudgingly. If genuine.

Cid waved as he turned his back and helped himself to the room one door over, locking it behind him even as he flipped his phone open and began to dial.

"It's been an interesting week," Lyla was explaining to Clarise downstairs, gingerly leaning her weight against the desk. "I can fill you in a bit if you know where I can find some aspirin."

The woman disappeared behind the counter with a click of balancing heels, an array of objects emerging shortly afterward.

"Pencilbox, stapler, note pad, gauze, rubber band, what the fuck is that, paper clips, more paper clips, oh my GOD Dret was looking for that apple, ASPIRIN." The bottle nudged itself up next to a small chocobo shaped eraser, followed shortly by Clarise. "There you go."

Lyla smiled wearily, grateful, taking the bottle in one hand and twisting the cap off before giving the chocobo eraser an experimental poke. "Cute," she remarked. "Thanks." She helped herself to three pills, proceeding to dry-swallow them immediately, capping the bottle and setting it back on the counter. "Hopefully that helps. Hell of a day. Fuck the northern crater," she said, dreary.

"The Northern Crater?" Clarise arched a brow, slumping onto the counter again. But not before she nudged the pitiable apple off the ledge. "So, what, survival the first time around was a fluke, so you thought you'd go and poke the worst beasties around some?"

"Business," Lyla corrected her by way of an explanation, leaning against the counter from the other side, settling her chin into the palm of her hand. "Remember Dr. Ingram at all? Blonde, nerdy... kind of cute," she added, making an irritated sort of face. "We were working on going around and cleaning up all of Professor Hojo's leftovers. Turns out there was a fair amount of dishonesty involved, and he's after some of the doctor's pet projects for himself. ... we were trying to beat him to Sephiroth's remains. It's... well, you already saw that Reno is here, and Rude. Reeve sent one of his robots along with us, whether we like it or not. The president is supervising, more or less, and we have two members of AVALANCHE along as well. One of them Ingram hired himself, the other is a friend he called in."

The tiny woman slammed her hands, open palmed, against the wood, eyes wide. "NOT a huge, gun-armed guy, right?" She asked instantly, the look of vauge interest instantly replaced by penetrating edginess. "Shaved head? Freelances as a plumber."

Lyla looked startled, then shook her head, raising a brow at the fair-haired woman in reply. "No, not the guy who came to 'fix the toilets' that one time. ... two former Shinra employees, actually. Cid Highwind was the favored pilot for the space program, and Vincent is a former Turk. ... both freelancers now, it would seem. They're alright, noone is going to accost you for your keycard."

Clarise put a hand over her chest, breathing out. "Thank you, lord." She muttered.

"Have to admit," Lyla told her once the shock had passed, "It's nice to see a familiar face."

"Yeah." She waved a hand. "Seriously. Glad you're alright. I mean, you know. We weren't like, ultra-tight. But I figured if anyone deserved a heads up, y'know?"

"Might as well have been the girl who didn't try to make you her coffee bitch, I know," Lyla conceded with a nod. "It was appreciated. I really enjoyed not being blown up, honestly." She smiled faintly, reaching to rub at her right temple. "I did quit for awhile, too. Wound up having to go back... turns out Shinra sort of has a monopoly on jobs for practical and preternatural biologists."

"Imagine." She frowned, cocking her head. "Working out any better for ya? I mean, I heard they took a tank. News takes awhile to get up this far, but it always does eventually."

"It was going great, I thought," the brunette began unconvincingly, gesturing broadly towards the threesome that now sat near the fireplace: Rufus leaning back with his legs crossed, cane resting against the arm of his chair, with Reno and Rude nearby, the former bent forward over his knees as he talked, animated. "Until the reveal with Ingram. Now it's all field work, to... put it kindly. ... a lot has happened. I'm considering quitting again. ... to be perfectly honest, I'm disgusted by my chosen field at the moment."

Clarise mad a vague gesture behind herself. "We can always use another instructor." She shrugged, making a face that she rather hoped resembled 'helpful.'

"I may take you up on it at this rate," Lyla told her, flashing a tired smile. "I think I'll go lay down for a bit, help the aspirin kick in. Maybe we can talk more later?"

"I'll be around. Town's not big enough to get lost in." She smiled brightly, shuffling through the papers on the desk. "Looks like, you're in... 319 to 323. End of the second floor, hunny."

"Thanks!" She waved, just a bit, as she turned to make her way towards the stairs, the dull ache she had been feeling since the episode at the crater beginning to set in and demand her attention as she climbed. She glanced at the room numbers once she hit the second floor, taking a right and following Clarise's instructions to head towards the end of the hall. The first door belonging to their number was locked when she gingerly tried the knob, but the second door she tried was not, swinging open easily.

Vincent sighed, even as he hauled the black shirt over his shoulders and head, not bothering to turn at the sound. "Something else you needed to scold me for, Cid?" he asked, voice still plain and clear despite the press of cloth.

His back was a roadmap of misery, crossed with stitches and flat, angry scars. Red and white and a thick, deep tan that came from vicious cuts against the grain. Stitches still held the flesh together in some places, half grown over, even where the edges yawned apart.

"Oh!" She cut herself short by clapping a hand over her mouth, taking a step back into the hallway. She couldn't help wincing at the sight of his marred back, and yet somehow found herself unable to look away, her eyes following a line of stitching that curved upwards, ending near a series of what looked like fresh bruises by his right shoulderblade. "... I'm sorry, it was unlocked, I thought the room was empty, I was looking for- I'll - Vincent, did I do that to you?" she asked, frowning at the bruising from behind her hand.

The gunman jerked noticeably, his eerily all-present calm pulled taught as the voice that spoke behind him greatly differed from his expectations. "Lyla-" He began, half turning before jerking back, obviously deciding against this idea.

She quickly turned to avert her eyes as best she could, trying to force herself to stare at the end of the hallway instead, but her gaze was stubborn, pulling itself back to the mess of his back. "I didn't realize I was hurting you," she said under her breath, forcing herself to turn her head again as she reached for the doorknob. "Sorry, I'll- I didn't mean to."

"No." Vincent half turned again before halting himself, groping for the shirt he had just discarded. "No, it's fine. Wait."

"Wait?" Lyla echoed upstairs, pausing in the doorway, her hand dropping from the polished handle, dangling awkwardly at her side. "I- alright."

"It's fine-" he said again, the words edged with some growl of frustration as his questing hand missed the shirt for the second time. -Seriously?- Vincent gave a low, long suffering sigh, pressing the ungloved hand to his face. "It's fine." He said again. "You didn't hurt me."

"Here," Lyla offered quietly, daring to step into the room, approaching the bed with caution, as though it might reach out and grab her when she got too close. She closed her fingers around the fabric of his discarded shirt, handing it to him from behind, even as she found herself staring at the blossoming bruises again, eyes drawn to the rhythmless scarring that stemmed from the skin beneath them.

He closed his eyes with something like faint relief, pulling the shirt over his head again, with only some small trouble over the talons of his fighting glove. "Thank you." he said, turning around, even with cowl momentarily discarded. "Sorry. I'll-" He hesitated for a moment, Cid's words leaping up to jump him in the face. -But she wasn't looking for him, she'd said- "Am I interrupting you?"

"I was just going to pick a room and try to settle in for some quiet," Lyla told him with a shake of the head, wincing when it sent a sharp pain down her neck. She silently reminded herself not to move it quite so much until the headache died down. "I- you're not the one who needs to apologize, you know. Sorry for barging in on you. ... didn't think to knock."

He offered her a wry look. "Most men don't need privacy to remove a shirt." He pointed out. "As we've seen. Nothing to worry about.

"Alright," Lyla conceded finally, retreating a couple of steps now that he no longer needed assistance. "Is that all- I mean, not that I'm in a hurry, but did you need something?"

Vincent opened his mouth, and, much to his annoyance, closed it again. "No." he said evenly, searching the room for his cloak with calm eyes. "Don't let me keep you."

"Okay. If you change your mind, I'll be next door," Lyla offered, eyeing the dark man suspiciously even as she began to retreat towards the hallway. "Rest well, if...that's what you're after."

He nodded. "You, too." He said simply.

Lyla stepped out and carefully shut the door behind her, frowning to herself as she went to try the next unlocked door instead, relieved to find the room behind it empty after knocking.

Downstairs, Reno glanced back towards the front desk to see that Clarise had been left to her own devices. He smirked, raising a hand to wave her over. "Hey, Hottie McHotHot. C'mon over, company reunion."

The ginger paused mid-apple toss, glancing over at the Turk with a few rapid blinks. She seemed to consider this invitation dubiously for a moment, before pitching the apple down the hallway and vaulting herself over the counter, effectively abandoning her post.

From somewhere behind them came a muffled, "What th-!"

Reno flashed the ginger a broad grin. "Come on, have a seat. Good to see another survivor, always."

Clarise draped herself over the back of his chair, folding her arms. "Same to you. Guess sick leave never came in more handily, right? Never heard back on how the lot of you made out."

"Injured spine at the time, so you know, I missed the whole Sephiroth ordeal at home office. Then I was doing field work for a few months, so I missed the explosion. Lucky, really," Reno told her flippantly, gesturing vaguely.

"Ah yes," Rufus remarked coolly, withholding a sigh, "How I so would have loved to join you. I'm afraid I was unable, front-row seats to that explosion were just too good to pass up. Breathtaking. Really."

The strawberry blond pressed blue-nailed fingers over her lips, trying not to laugh at the deadpan. Then it occurred to her exactly what that meant, and she leaned forward to get a better look at the speaker. "I did hear about that. How did you make it?"

"I ducked," the president supplied flatly, flashing a polite smile afterwards. Reno snorted.

"That's retarded."

"Dumb luck?" Rufus offered instead. "Seems about the same."

"Sounds to me like you're all lucky," Clarise quipped, letting her chin rest on folded hands, looking the three men over speculatively.

"Lucky, yes, though not quite fortunate," Rufus clarified, arching a fair brow in the woman's direction. "You look familiar, which department did you work in?" It was a pleasant enough question, not nearly as condescending as it might have been otherwise.

Her lips quirked up. "Secretary." She said. "Presidential. If you want to be PC I think they call them personal assistants, these days."

"Ah. That would explain it," Rufus acknowledged with a nod, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it failed to reach his eyes, leaving the rest of his expression completely serious. "You were never introduced to me as my new mother, were you?" Reno covered his mouth and nose to muffle another snort.

"Ew." Clarise closed her eyes, putting a hand over her face. "Oh. No. Ew." She paused, as if about to say something else, then, "No, come on. Ew."

"To be fair, it's a perfectly valid question," Rufus explained, the smirk spreading across his lips and creeping into the rest of his expression, pulling at his eyes a bit. "My father thought it was so funny that he did it once a month. ... for the record, it wasn't."

The small woman peered out at him from between her fingers somewhat less crossly than she would have liked. "Had a habit of dating the interns?" She suggested, not entirely certain why, as she wasn't particularly stoked to hear the answer.

"I think I may have been birthed by one of his earlier secretaries, to be perfectly honest," he told her, wincing slightly. "He may as well have been interviewing new secretaries under the title of paramour."

"Ew," Reno said pointedly.

"Well, I never-" She paused, finger raised in the middle of the thought. "Wait a minute." She said suddenly, brows knitting together. "What? So, what the hell was wrong with -me-?" She demanded, irate suddenly.

"My vote is that old age equals erectile dysfunction," Reno supplied cheerfully, turning to grin at Rude.

"I believe that's when my father was in his..." Rufus paused, splaying his fingers against his forehead as though the next part truly pained him. "Experimental stage."

The large man smirked, turning his head as if to dim the expression when his lips parted in a toothy grin.

Clarise closed one eye, staring at the president Shinra as if to say, 'for reals?'

Reno lifted a hand as though to shield his eyes from some imaginary light, using the width of his arm to block the smirk that now tugged at his lips.

The blonde man gave her the most serious look he could muster, expression cold and business-like. "Imagine my surprise, and horror, when Ramone, the bartender from the employee lounge, met father and I for dinner, and was introduced as the newest candidate for mother."

The ginger choked, disappearing momentarily behind the chair as she clasped a hand over her mouth.

"Aaaand that's our cue to go check out the bar! Come along, Rude," Reno said all at once, stringing his words together even as he got to his feet and started towards the door that lead to the basement, and thus, liquor.

Rufus raised a brow at the ginger-haired woman. "Do you have a name?" he asked her, ignoring Reno's departure.

"I do." She said, peeking over the top if the overstuffed chair the redhead had so recently vacated. "Clarise. Uhm. Kaht."

The bald man threw a quick salute before making after his friend at just a hair's quicker pace than the norm.

"Clarise Kaht," the president echoed, narrowing one icy eye scrutinously. "... you're the one with the keycard. You let the terrorists in." He paused, glancing towards the stairs that lead up to the second level. "Not that I can say much, traveling with their affiliates."

"Oh, hey. Part of me hoped you wouldn't know that." She tangled a single, well manicured finger into her gingery hair, tugging absently. "So. In my defense, he was a GIANT scarred black man with a shaved head and a gun for an arm. I kind of, you know. Like my face the way it is."

He gave her a dubious look for a moment, his eyes shifting back to their normal width as he settled back into his seat, hand finding its way to the polished handle of his cane. "... shows good judgment," he remarked. "Welcome back to Shinra, Ms. Kaht."

"He asked me where the toilets were, and how to get into them. Like he was even remotely wearing a plumber's- wait, what?" She paused mid-tug, blinking over at the president.

"Welcome," Rufus repeated, slower this time, taking care to annunciate, "back to Shinra, Ms. Kaht. I'll need an assistant if I'm to rebuild my company, and Reno is terrible at filing."

Clarise opened her mouth to protest this, then paused- lips parted- to consider the intelligence in her next set of options. She narrowed one eye, looking Rufus Shinra up and down, and closed her mouth. Gnawing at her lip instead.

"Health care?" She asked.

"Mm. Dental and hospital insurance as well. Not to mention the new 401k plan we're putting into effect." He smiled pleasantly, pointing to the floor above them. "I have to have something good enough to make it worth Ms. Caraway's while to stay. Yours as well, now."

She tapped her nails thoughtfully against the chair back. "And... this keycard thing. Behind us?"

His smile hitched wider, if only slightly, remaining utterly benign. "Oh, yes. Entirely. Shinra and AVALANCHE have since worked out their differences."

"And do you have a policy about hitting on your secretaries?"

"I avoid it."

"That's a shame." She smirked, pushing herself up to the click of her high-heeled strap-ons. "Well. Don't suppose you'll be spending the remainder of your days at the Icicle Inn. I'll find some traveling pants, shall I?"

His smirk mirrored her own for a moment, though he said nothing to acknowledge her first comment. "We'll be here another day or two while people recover and we regroup. Be prepared to leave after that, we'll be on the road for quite some time, it looks like. Or rather, in the air."

"Well. I wont switch to flats then."

His eyes may have traveled downwards to appraise her footwear, but if they had, it was too brief for anyone to be sure. "I trust your judgment."

"Oh, wow. Scary." She chuckled, folding her arms to appraise him more openly. "No pressure." The boldness faded for a beat while she thought things over, flipping the long ponytail over one, slim shoulder.

Her heels had to be six inches. Which meant she was even a tinier woman without them than she seemed.

He made a vague gesture with his right hand, almost flippant. "I'm sure you can rise to meet the challenge. An executive's assistant needs to be able to make executive decisions of her own."

The small creature chuckled again. "I can't decide if I've been promoted or not. Funny thing." She said, making her way across the small lobby. "Better resign then, doncha think?"

Rufus made a motion as if to tip his non-existent hat to her as she went. "How very efficient."

She smiled, but didn't bother to turn around and show it.