The touchdown had gone relatively without incident, all things considered, as had the initial search and questioning. Now, though, a new problem had risen it's ugly head, and it had everyone on their proverbial edge.

It was hot.

Very, very hot.

No one had expected the trip to go on so long, or to span such distance, and as a result, it wasn't like they were exactly prepared. As such the group adjourned around 1pm when the blazing sun had been most unforgiving, and scattered in search of more suitable clothes.

Which had brought them to this point.

"Don't be so stubborn." Clarise sighed. "C'mooon."

"I'm not being stubborn," Lyla said pointedly, folding her arms as she gave the rack beside them a most critical look. "I'm more than happy - overjoyed, even - to help you shop for a swimsuit. I'm perfectly satisfied with finding a pair of shorts to wear."

"I don't need help." She frowned, gripping her own hips with indignance. "More to the point I'm not the one who needs help."

"I don't need help!" Lyla echoed, raising her eyebrows in alarm. "I don't need a swimsuit. I'm not going swimming. I'm here to do reconnaissance, this is important."

"Then just walk around in it."

Lyla gave her companion a doubting look. "I don't understand the point of that."

"What's not to understand?" She cocked her head, frown deepening slightly.

"I'm not planning on going swimming, or sunbathing, and I'm not here to attract male attention. I'm here to do a job," Lyla reminded her. "No one is going to take me seriously if I'm showing everything."

"What makes you think that isn't better?" The ginger arched a challenging eyebrow. "So you're just some tourist that heard there was a Sephiroth lookalike around. Doesn't that sound a whole lot less threatening than some hardcore scientist bitch in super tight leather pants maybe searching for a psychopath?"

"I'm not threatening," Lyla countered, almost petulant.

Clarise sighed, folding her arms. "It'll help." She said evenly.

"Help what?" She raised an eyebrow; there was a tone to her voice that suggested she was not quite so clueless as she was pretending to be.

The ginger raised her hands. "It'll help." She said again, more pointedly.

"I don't need help," the brunette said again. "I don't have anyone to impress."

Clarise cleared her throat, eyeing her fingernails.

"What?"

"Well." She chirped. "Who said it had to -be- for anybody?"

"... okay, fair, but what if there are people present who I -don't- want to see me mostly naked."

"Why should there be?" She frowned up at the taller woman. "Are you wearing huge, off-white fatty-concealing panties under that skin tight leather?"

She gave the shorter woman a critical look. "No. Look. There was just an incident in Icicle Inn that would make the swimsuit situation sort of uncomfortable right now."

"Oh?"

"Just a thing. It's not important. Can I please keep my clothes on?"

The smaller woman shifted her weight, sucking a breath in between her teeth. "Had a confession incident with the tortured half-vampire spook-hunter?"

Lyla winced. "It was on accident. I was muttering and he has super-hearing. Also, thin walls."

"Oh." She pressed her pale, pearly blue nails to her lips. "Oh, hunny. What happened? Did he say no?"

"Stopped dead and walked off without saying anything, actually," Lyla confessed, frowning. "And we haven't spoken today, not directly. Which is unusual. ... but it's alright, really, he doesn't seem like the dating type. And I really don't have time to date now. It's... the last thing on my mind. Seeing as I just learned that I'm a tube-grown biological weapon who is upsettingly linked to an infamous megalomaniac."

Clarise frowned at her for a moment, then waved a hand at her. "I'm pretty sure you need an orgasm harder than ever, actually."

Lyla groaned softly, covering her eyes with one hand. "I know. You're so right."

"Besides, that isn't a 'no.'" She said reasonably, turning her eye back onto the clothing rack beside them, one hand still raised in a dismissive gesture. "That's an 'I'm too much of a monster to deserve a hot science-babe.' It'll help."

Rather than lower her hand entirely, she spread her fingers to peer through them. "You really think that's what it was?"

"He does spend a lot of time giving off this 'I'm a horrible monster' vibe."

"We did have an extended conversation about how 'not human' he deems himself."

"Is it a lot?" She asked in rather a rushed tone.

"So very much," Lyla assured her, letting her hand drop away from her face.

"It'll help." She said again, holding up a small, green top thoughtfully.

Lyla eyed the top thoughtfully, letting out a defeated sigh a moment after. "Alright. I'm going to need a bigger cup size than that."

"Well not necessarily."

"... I'll try it on."

The smaller woman grinned in triumph, handing her the bikini with a slight flit before bounding off to search for her own.

If Rufus Shinra had any interest in swimming, it didn't show. Like so many of the others, he had gone in search of swimwear and settled for a snug pair of dark blue trunks and a pair of flip-flops. An expensive pair of sunglasses completed the ensemble, and he found himself quite content, stretched out in a previously occupied lounge chair that he had confiscated from its previous owner. "And I thought this was going to be nothing but work."

Cid had been making his way along the beach looking for information, though hadn't come up with much so far. He tromped his way across the sand in trunks and a tank top, having decided that it was unfair to his wife to show off his glorious chest muscles to hussies he barely knew. In truth, he burned easily. "'Ey Vin," he called as he neared his friend, "You find anything?"

Vincent looked up from the discarded paper he had been studying, giving his head a single, firm shake. If he had even remotely attempted to locate something to wear more appropriate for their setting, it had been a quick and dirty one that ended fruitless.

As it was, he peered at the pilot over his cowl. "Nothing of note."

The pilot squinted at his companion. "You gotta be meltin' inside that thing. At least take the cape off."

"It's fine," the gunman assured him absently, tossing the paper into a trash bin. "Either he hasn't shown, or we've just missed him."

"An' here I thought I'd get you to show us your pretty face," Cid grumped, though he grinned through it. "Well. Maybe we'll be unfortunate enough to run into 'im here. .. y'think we should tell Cloud?"

That caused them both pause. "After the incident last year?" He said after awhile.

Cid grimaced in reply. "... we could tell Tifa, just have him not go out on deliveries 'till we get this sorted out."

"Then she'll have to explain why."

"... alright. Or, how 'bout this. We take care of this ourselves, and don't tell Cloud."

"Do you think we have the man power?" Vincent asked, very seriously. Apparently he was not of the inclination to inform their once fearless leader, either.

"... maybe, since he's all befuddled and whatnot. Might be able to swing it," Cid said somewhat doubtfully. "... Reno an' Rude got game."

The dark man considered this. "I have to wonder if Lyla will be an ally or an enemy."

"Personally, I was hopin' the former," the pilot admitted, frowning faintly, "But who knows what bein' near him is gonna do to her. Y'remember what happened to Cloud, an' all."

"Mn." Vincent nodded, cradling his chin for a moment. "There was an incident... with Rei, as well."

"... yeah. Yeah, you mentioned that. ... shame, figure she'd be good manpower t'have on our side, but if she can't control it and don't know how to use it, just gonna get herself hurt, an' other people too. Not that I don't like the girl. I do. I'm jus' sayin', bit of a tight spot." Cid paused to tap some loose ash off of his cigarette and into the sand.

"Still." The gunman turned to survey the beach. "It might be feasible, if we gear up."

"You an' I ain't exactly pushovers, either," Cid added, turning to follow his friend's gaze. "We've got us, an' the Turks at least. Maybe the doc if she can get a grip. Rufus is a damn good shot but not as mobile as the rest of us still. Maybe his secretary's got some tricks up her sleeve."

"Why wouldn't that shock me."

"Shinra employees, etcetera?" Cid offered, shielding his eyes with his hand to look down the length of the beach.

Lyla adjusted her sarong as she and Clarise descended the short stairway that lead from the town to the beach, the cobblestone in the steps the same color as the sand that had spilled over them. "Well, you were right about one thing. Gathering information would be easy in this. Sadly no one has had any to give, only phone numbers."

The ginger tittered, tugging at the strap on her small, stringy bit-cover. "Guess that means there's nothing to hear yet."

Lyla glanced over, looking down the line of her nose at the shorter woman from behind a large pair of sunglasses. "Hopefully that'll change soon, we need a lead."

"He's headed this way, right?" Clarise shrugged, frowning. "Maybe we beat him. We have the airship, you know?"

"It was just an educated guess, but it seemed so, yes. Maybe we did," Lyla conceded slowly. "... which I suppose means we can relax for a day or so while we wait to see or catch word of him."

"Probably wouldn't kill the lot of you." Clarise offered, turning to scan the beach. "Oh! Hey! Dragul is here! Turns out he doesn't melt in the heat. That's kinna nifty."

Lyla followed the line of Clarise's gaze and frowned slightly, tipping her glasses down to peer over them. "He's still wearing the cape? You think he would at least lose that to deal with the heat, there's nothing wrong with his face."

The smaller woman blinked at her curiously.

The brunette looked back, slightly confused by Clarise's expression. "Hm?"

"Is there something wrong with the rest of him?"

Lyla gave her a questioning look, then nodded after a brief moment, just once. "Scars," she said faintly.

"Oh." She frowned, turning again. "He shouldn't worry about that. Lots of people are scarred up these days."

"It's bad," Lyla informed her, vaguely wondering if it was an invasion of Vincent's privacy to tell. "I wouldn't want to show them, either, if I were him. ... though he could stand to wear something lighter than leather at least, he probably -will- melt at this rate."

Clarise wrinkled her nose. "Oh." She said simply. "Well. You should probably prance by him."

Lyla froze. "I don't prance."

"Walk?"

"By myself?"

"You want me to come for moral support?"

"It's less of a want and more of a need."

"Okay," she agreed cheerily. "But you have to walk on his side."

"Alright. I can do that," Lyla told her with a certain degree of uncertainty, drawing in a sharp breath as she began the foreboding walk along the beach.

"Lookit, if you want we can talk about something." The ginger offered. "Got a topic in mind?"

"We should be talking about the issue of Sephiroth," Lyla pointed out, "Unless you have any better ideas."

"Maybe you should try a sort of hunter green. It would look nice with your eyes."

"What, what are we talking about."

"Not the thing that wants to kill us."

"... okay. Uh, thank you for the advice, I'll... keep it in mind?" Lyla attempted as they continued along.

Clarise laughed. "You really suck at this." She noted.

"I know. I'm not very good at small talk. Too much of the past two years was spent cooped up in a lab talking about work. I don't remember how to do much else, I've been working so hard to advance," Lyla admitted. "I do like hunter green."

The ginger smiled at her. "I'm used to it." She said blithely. "Don't worry. It's just- you're going to make yourself nuts, you know? If you don't give yourself a little break from all the stress. I mean, if it's not guys trying to kill you, it's guys trying to kill themselves, or this tube thing, or crushing robots... just relax, a little, you know? And it compliments your hair, I bet."

Lyla gave her a grateful, if tired, smile. "I can relax. It's just taking a few minutes to remember how, really. Okay. Relaxing. And blue looks nice on you."

Clarise beamed. "Thank you." She chirped.

Vincent, now well within the range of hearing, cast Cid a confused look.

Cid cast his friend an equally puzzled look, though his gaze did wander towards the pair as they got closer.

Lyla discreetly adjusted her sunglasses so that they sat atop the bridge of her nose as they were meant to. "So, have you been sent to fetch lattes yet?" she asked with a smirk.

"Not yet. Are they heinous?" She chuckled. "They can't be worse than his dad's coffees."

"I heard Reno complain about soy and skim milk once, but they don't sound too awful. Just pretentious," Lyla offered.

Cid offered Vincent another Look, raising an eyebrow.

Clarise tittered again. "Well that fits, anyway. Maybe they won't be hard to remember."

"I would complain about how I miss the days of coffee being just coffee, but to be honest," Lyla confessed, "Pretentious coffee is delicious."

"But soy?" The shorter woman wrinkled her nose.

"... okay, yes, gross."

Vincent frowned back at the aviator, his even expression colored with mild confusion.

Cid took a long, even drag of his cigarette, watching both women as they passed.

Lyla glanced towards Clarise as though seeking some note of approval as they continued to walk. "Well, your new boss is just down the beach. You might get your first errand yet."

A wide smile met her, and she checked over her shoulder in time to watch Vincent turn his head away. "Wow. Exciting. Will that make me like, part of the club?"

Lyla smiled plainly in reply. "It will mean you're the whipping girl for the hottest boss a girl could ask for. Any complaints?"

Clarise grinned. "Not yet. Not a one."

"I have no idea what just happened." Vincent said quietly.

"It would seem," Cid began, pausing to exhale a stream of smoke, "That the only females in our ensemble jus' walked by us in revealin' swimwear."

"Did they." Vincent frowned, picking up to head for the bar. "I hadn't noticed."

"Y-yeah. I figured you hadn't," Cid fumbled as he turned to follow the caped man, cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "So. She's..." He squinted one eye, searching for the word that was least likely to get him struck by lightning. "Pretty."

Lyla glanced back over her shoulder. "They're gone."

"He watched. For pretty much ever." There was a note of smug in the small ginger's tone.

"Did he look confused or interested?" Lyla asked, turning to face forward again and fidgeting slightly with the knot of her sarong.

"Sort of hard to tell under the cloak... dealie. But it's probably the same thing to a guy like him."

"Okay. Well. That's all well and good, then," Lyla began, "Though I still don't know how I'm going to talk to him again. ... you weren't there. It was -really- embarrassing."

"Well. Maybe that's good!"

"'Horrifying' and 'good' are hardly ever the same thing, you know," Lyla pointed out. "But maybe you were right with the 'oh god I'm a monster' call."

"Preeetty much looks like the type."

"Mhm. Ah," Lyla interrupted herself as they neared the chair that Rufus had stretched himself out in, "If it isn't his majesty."

Down the beach, Vincent's only response to the aviator was, "I suppose."

"I'll buy your first few drinks, get ya started," Cid offered. "... hey, it's not too late, y'could probably take back whatever awful thing happened last night an' still work somethin' out. Mr. 'She's Not My Girlfriend.'"

"She's not. What are we talking about." Vincent flatlined.

"Nothin'," Cid told him offhandedly, "Jus' sayin'. I saw you lookin'. Pretty much forever."

"It was strange." he muttered.

Cid cast a sidelong glance at his friend as they neared the bar. "On account of she's usually wearin' clothes?"

"Their conversation." Vincent said tightly.

Cid flashed Vincent his most innocent smile, which was to say not very. "Sounded like the redhead was in the lead there."

"Mn." Vincent mned dispassionately.

He needed a drink.

Or a million of them.

Elsewhere, Clarise was stifling a chuckle.

"C'mon, c'mon," Cid urged as they entered the bar itself, the cool blast of the air conditioning welcome after the sweltering heat outside. "I'm buyin'."

The gunman offered him a glance that was likely appreciative in whatever primarily mentally-based language Vincent spoke. Then he slipped past him into the bar.

Cid tromped his way across the bar to a pair of open stools, not bothering to spare any of the scantily clad women (or men, for that matter) around them the slightest glance. Sliding into his seat, he nodded to the barkeep. "Two of the house beer, thanks."

Vincent sat beside him, all the grace and dignity that shouldn't have been available to a man in metal shoes. And leaned on the bar with a soft, muddled noise.

Cid slid one of the mugs towards his friend once the bartender had set it down, staring down into his own drink and contemplating the suds. "I wanna ask ya if yer okay, but men aren't s'posed to talk about their feelin's."

The gunman snorted softly. "I'm fine, Cid." He assured his friend, taking a long drink before he spoke again. "Just tired."

"Yeah, yeah. Heard it before," Cid said dismissively, tipping his mug back. "Shera n' I worry 'bout you, can't help it."

"I'm older than you, Cid." Vincent reminded him wryly. "I can take care of myself."

"Y'might be, but I'm not convinced 'bout the latter. I know ya got your share of stuff to be miserable 'bout, more than your share, really. Don't mean we can't be concerned. Friends do that, y'know. Maybe y'never realized," Cid pointed out.

Vincent eyed the aviator for a moment, taking another drink before he talked again. "I do. There's just... no reason to be. But I do." He sat back. "...Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. Anytime. ... so tell me this," Cid went on, pausing to take another drink. "Why're you bein' stupid? Y'know I read ya like a book. Y'know I was jus' tryin' to get you t'realize there's a nice girl who likes ya back at Icicle Inn, righ'?"

The gaunt man sighed, and for another beat they drank in silence. "Do you really think that's a good idea?" He said after awhile.

"Dunno. D'you really think ignorin' it is a good idea?" Cid countered. "Shit, maybe it'll be all fucked up an' maybe it won't, but yer life is never gonna change unless y'take chances on stuff. I think y'might smile a little bit more if y'did. An' I know you ain't got much reason to. I can't know what you've been though but I understan' how awful y'feel alla the time. I don' think it would kill ya to do somethin' y'might enjoy."

Vincent shifted, his frown pulling at the edges until he glanced away. Blinking owlishly at the fading foam that clung to the edges of his mug's inside. "I don't have a life." He said after awhile, his jaw oddly stiff. "There's nothing to change. This is... the way things are meant to be."

The clink of glass seemed to echo in the noisy tavern as the gunman set his mug down. "She has her own troubles. She needs no part of mine."

"You don't have a life cause you won't let yerself have one, Vin," Cid said firmly, draining the last of his beer and nodding to the barkeep for a second round. "Yer punishin' yerself. An' I get it, I do. I jus' think you're so busy hurtin' that you think it's okay to do that to yerself forever. And it ain't."

It was curious, really, when Vincent thought about it, that they had managed to avoid this conversation for as long as they had. Lack of stimulus, he supposed. Though he had to wonder how long it had been on the pilot's mind.

And yet, suspecting the answer wasn't going to be of much use to either of them, the gunman asked. "Why not, Cid."

"... I don' know. It just ain't right." The pilot frowned, averting his eyes and pretending to be far more interested in his beer than the conversation. "No one deserves to be miserable forever."

"I won't be." He said quietly.

"What's gonna change that?"

Vincent hesitated, frowning into his second beer as he took it from the table. "Someday it will be enough."

"When's that?" Cid grumped, tipping back the fresh drink the barkeep had brought him. "When yer dead for real?"

"Yes."

The pilot winced. "Yeah. Yeah, sounds like you."

He sighed, taking a long drink. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I woulda figured it out anyway. M'not dumb," Cid pointed out. "I can read you."

"I'm sure you've known for a long time." Vincent offered him a wry look, then turned his attention to his beer. "We've just never said it before. ...With good reason, I guess."

"Yeah, I knew," the pilot admitted grudgingly, looking up to frown at his friend. "Not somethin' I ever wanted to talk about. But it was gettin' hard not t'say anything. Hard t'watch."

"Sorry." He muttered, aware it had been a long time since he'd apologized so much.

"So this's how it's gonna be?"

Vincent arched a curious brow at his friend.

"Just countin' down the days till ya die," Cid went on to explain.

"I'm not planning on killing myself." He pointed out flatly.

"I know you ain' gonna do it yourself. Just feels like s'all you're lookin' forward to sometimes."

"I don't... know." He admitted, sitting back on the stool with a mild frown. "I guess I never considered that much."

"Probably never would unless someone spelled it out."

The gunman smirked, taking a drink of his beer. "Mn."

"Maybe think on that a bit," Cid suggested, tipping his mug back again.

"Alright." He agreed evenly.

The pilot smiled, if wryly. "Good talk."

"Good talk." Vincent echoed, finishing off his second beer. Just a little too quickly.

"Takin' off?" the blonde asked, lifting his head slightly.

His smirk hitched a notch wider. "When you're buying? Not yet."

The pilot grinned, signaling to the barkeep. "'Nother round, sir."

Rufus tipped his sunglasses down his nose, peering up at the pair of approaching women over the rim. "Good afternoon, ladies. You're standing in my light."

The small woman shifted slightly, as if to scoot out of the way without actually taking a step, then peered down the expanse of beach. "No turks." She noted. "Odd."

"They're out there," Rufus drawled, setting his shades back in their proper place, gesturing lazily towards the water. "Splashing around like imbeciles."

Lyla took a step to the right and leaned back to peer at the ocean around Clarise, smirking faintly when she saw Reno squeeze both hands to squirt a stream of water at his partner.

Rude took a few steps back, centering himself before using the bulk of his arm to create a very small tidal wave.

"Well," Clarise grinned lopsidedly. "No better way to cool off around here, right?"

"I don't know," Rufus mused aloud, "I think I would settled for an iced latte and being fanned by a pair of attendants."

Lyla raised a brow. "And I wonder where you would find the latter."

"In the larger hotels here, they're included in the price of the suite," he countered with a smirk. "Though I saw you weren't willing to spring for that even on Ingram's dime."

"Seriously?" Clarise offered Lyla a mildly surprised look. "I'd use it for as much as it was worth, hunny. What exactly's stopping you?"

"The credit limit," Lyla said pointedly. "I'm milking it as long as I can, but it's going to run out eventually, and I'm thinking a few more outrageous charges on the bill will be a real kick in the ass."

The ginger giggled into her slim, painted fingers. "That's good, too." She said brightly. "You know what's really expensive and useless? Well. Besides lacy underwear?" Clarise spread her hands to smile. "The Golden Saucer games."

A slow smirk began to spread across the brunette's face. "I was thinking a little of both. ... we should go to the Gold Saucer. Soon."

Clarise offered her a benign smile, then peered around Lyla's back to catch a curious glimpse of the president. She wasn't entirely certain she cared for his opinion at the moment, but it seemed a good thing to know, in either case.

"I like Wonder Square," Rufus said plainly. "We should go."

"Settles that then." The small woman trilled. "Too bad it wont make each charge separately, really. That would be annoying as hell. Hm."

"The kicker is that he doesn't pay a whole lot of attention to the bills," Lyla went on in an almost lamenting fashion, folding her arms and shifting slightly. "Though it'll be hard to ignore when I start adding up bounced charges and his phone rings off the hook."

"Truly devious," Rufus said, sounding somewhat disinterested as he flicked a stray bit of hair away from his glasses.

Clarise smiled warmly. "It's the little annoyances. They're not much on their own, but if you can think of enough, they can drive a person over the edge eventually."

Rufus tipped his glasses down his nose again and lifted his head to look out towards where Reno and Rude were continuing to assault each other with water. "I wouldn't know," he said flatly.

"Oh. That seems harsh." She crossed her arms absently, following the line of his gaze.

He looked up at her and smirked. "All in good fun, Ms. Kaht."

The ginger turned her smile up a notch, omitting any comment she had about truer words and jest. "Next time you want to destroy someone, I suggest letting their cat out while they're at work, letting a tire go flat on the same day as a ticket, ruining their credit, and causing the sprinkler system to go off at their work. See if they don't throw themselves off the bridge."

"I always preferred my adventures in ruination to be a bit more flashy," Rufus confessed, leaning back in his chair. "But I'll have to keep that in mind. It may be worth trying."

"I'm going to wander off that way, I think," Lyla suggested, more to Clarise than to the president. "See if I pick up any information back in town."

She waved her hands encouragingly. "Try the bar." She offered, then glanced over her shoulder. "The upside of small things is watching them get to a person. Don't bother if you're not going to watch, you know?" The small woman shifted her weight thoughtfully. "Sometimes you can ruin a marriage, too. Which I suppose isn't small, but also untraceable under the right circumstances."

"I'd resist, but bartenders see everyone who comes through a town like this, just about," Lyla conceded as she turned her back, looking over her shoulder to wave. "Have fun, I'll let you know if we find a new lead."

Rufus nodded after Lyla as she departed, turning his attention to Clarise with a smirk as he removed his glasses entirely. "Do you say that having experience with ruining marriages, Ms. Kaht?"

"If I say yes will you think less of me?" She asked, one brow quirking curiously.

"No. You don't have to tell me the details, after all. Many beautiful women have ruined marriages without lifting a finger," he explained casually, expression oddly benign.

"Oh. I had to spend about 500gil, but it was worth it, in the end." She said absently, ruffling her long hair.

"Sounds like a story worth hearing sometime," he told her, arching a brow.

"I'm full of those, from a certain viewpoint." She admitted, cocking her head.

"How very interesting. Perhaps you could tell me over a latte at some point. Which, by the way," he went on without skipping a beat, settling his glasses back onto his face, "I'd like one."

Clarise smirked, glancing over at him for a beat. "Well. You'll have to tell me what you want. I don't want it thrown on me."

He smiled at that, stretching out and crossing one leg over the other. "I would never be so crass. Only send it back. Unsweetened cinnamon soy latte with skim milk."

"Ooh. Like Christmas in a cup." She murmured, turning on one foot in the soft white sand as she made her way up the incline towards the coffee shops.

"Responsive," Rufus remarked to himself as he settled in to get comfortable again. "I like that."