The casino was abuzz with activity, though the people there were displaying a greater degree of decorum than those in the arcade or at the races. Well, -most- of them were. Reno carried on loudly as he leaned against the edge of the roulette table, a beer in one hand as he watched Rude place his next bet with one eye, studying the young lady to his left with the other.
"Let it ride on black, buddy," he advised, though Rude didn't often need his assistance. More than once, Reno wondered just how his partner managed to walk away from the casino with so much in winnings. He was starting to toy with the idea that Rude might be psychic.
The large man flashed him a grin that was only teeth on one side, pushing his chips with two fingers across the table until he was satisfied.
They had been there some time now, and really, the only thing that made it surprising was that no one had come to find them yet. Sure, maybe they weren't needed at all points of this little carnival, but really, the white hats had been gone a very long time.
As if on cue, Lyla approached the pair of them from behind, having spotted them from across the main room of the casino, walking towards them at a fast clip and slowing to a halt near Reno. The redhead opened his mouth to make some remark about her being a cockblock, but decided against it when he saw that the woman to his left was engaged in conversation with another patron. Didn't matter, anyway.
"Hey, PETA," he greeted her conversationally. "What brings you to mingle with the lowly humans?"
"Hi," she said, raising a brow. "Thought I would come see what you two are up to. Rude winning?"
"Mn." he agreed with a minute nod, eyes presumably locked on the wheel as it began to spin. Not that anyone could say for sure behind the mirrored shades of his latest pair.
The one before had met an unfortunate end off the edge of the Shera from an ill-timed back-slap. Though one might suppose that somewhere over Costa Del Sol, a half blinded tourist was graced with a strange, but appropriate gift from on high.
"He's always on a winning streak," Reno clarified with a smile, making a flippant gesture with the hand that wasn't currently holding his drink. "Big guy's basically a celebrity here. So, any news from the frontline?"
Lyla shook her head, slipping into the empty space next to him and leaning against the table. "No excitement yet. Cid is filling Cloud and Tifa in on the details while Vincent keeps the kids occupied. It sounds like they're all coming with us, though. Probably the best thing for them. It's not safe to stay put in small numbers for very long right now."
"I'd say not," Reno agreed with a half-nod, tilting his head to the side. "Which begs the question of why you're here instead of with the other superheroes, princess."
The scientist offered him a weary but genuine smile in reply. "He could show up at any time, you know. Thought it might not be smart to get caught alone. Dad and the president are at the track, but I figured I'd stick close to someone who can put up a good fight. If you two don't mind."
It was Rude's opinion that putting Vincent Valentine in charge of children was a very odd path to tread. This thought was still bouncing around in his head as he placed his next bet- and sure enough, it distracted him. He snorted, turning away from the table as they dragged off a good portion of his chips to fix Lyla with a level stare.
"It's under control." he said simply, giving her a nod.
Lyla coughed nervously as she eyed the surface of the table and Rude's slightly diminished pile of chips. Well, she certainly hadn't meant to distract him, but she bit her lower lip and offered him a smile as she tried to decipher what sort of look he was giving her from behind his mirrored glasses. "Does talking disrupt the gambling mojo? Curious, since Reno never shuts up."
Reno flashed her a thumbs up, approving of the open jab. "'Atta girl. You're getting the hang of it."
Rude smirked before turning back to the wheel. "It's not gambling if you never lose." he said simply, placing a new bet.
"Really? I wonder what you'd call it, then," she remarked, smirking to herself as she watched Rude lean over the table.
"Highway robbery," Reno said simply, pausing to take a swig of his beer and eyeing a pair across the table as they placed their own bets. "You'll buy me something pretty later on, won't you, Rude?"
"One in every color." he grunted, nodding dutifully.
What, he didn't specify, but knowing them it was either shots or lingerie.
Lyla grinned at the pair of them, tilting her head in a questioning manner. "Do you two ever do anything aside from drink and play gay chicken with each other?"
"Sure," Reno offered, "Sometimes we make funna you."
Rude nodded his agreement, not batting an eye as his color- and number- came up again.
Lyla raised both eyebrows without responding to Reno's remark, clearly impressed. "Nicely done."
"Too bad the cat isn't here to see this." he remarked, smirking at her over his shoulder.
"He'd be proud," she agreed, shifting her weight against the table. "Where is he, anyway? You think he'd be happy to take a tour of the Gold Saucer again. Did he stay on the Shera? I haven't seen Clarise in awhile either, actually."
"Probably wandered off to his old stomping grounds," Reno deducted, taking another long swig of his beer. He frowned slightly. Cait would have been fun to have around right about now. Where -was- he? He glanced back at the table as yet more chips were added to his partner's pile. "Clarise is probably on latte duty."
As if summoned by the mention of trouble, a loud WARK sounded roughly six inches from Reno's ear.
Rude nearly pitched over the table with surprise.
Reno's beer bottle hit the carpeted floor with a spectacular thunk, toppling over and spilling out the rest of its contents as its owner windmilled, startled. He looked up, wide-eyed, and found himself staring into the eyes of a large and irate-looking black chocobo. "Uh," he said eloquently, leaning to the right to see who accompanied the bird.
Lyla waved at the woman holding the creature's reins. "Hey, Clarise."
She waved back cheerily, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Look what I got." she trilled with amusement. "What have you guys been up to? Have you been gambling all this time? You know, it really wasn't nice of you to take off without me."
"Sorry," Lyla apologized, gingerly reaching out to pat the chocobo on the top of its head. It closed its eyes and let out a low, appreciative trill. "I thought you had split off with Rufus, maybe. What kept you?"
"Oh my freakin' God," Reno complained, turning his index finger around in his left ear in an attempt to clear it.
She shrugged, smirking in a very self satisfied way. "So I got into a conversation at the bar with this guy in a mariachi hat," the blonde began, trailing off thoughtfully. "Well. It was wide brimmed, anyway. So! It turned into an argument about depth perception and we ended up playing a few rounds of beer-pong. Which is just weird, when you think about it, I guess."
Here Clarise paused to consider it briefly.
"Anyway. I won a chocobo."
"What the hell did you have to bet to win a chocobo?" Lyla asked, then paused to narrow her eyes at the woman across from her. "... wait, a mariachi hat? Seriously?"
"OW," Reno said pointedly, pulling his finger out of his ear and frowning severely as he hopped away from the table to give Clarise a most critical look. "Did I mention ow? If I go deaf, I'm holdin' you responsible, McHotHot."
"Oh, uhm. I wouldn't worry about that." She waved a hand rapidly to accompany her tooth-paste smile. "I wasn't going to lose or anything. And- oh." she leaned over the creature's head. "Sorry, there, Cap-ee-tan. Do you want the chocobo to make up for it?"
Reno narrowed one eye suspiciously at the chocobo. "Nah," he told her after a moment of thought, shrugging and turning both hands up. "Havin' a bird like that is too much like havin' a kid or something. Responsibility, y'know? I don't want to have to give up my free-and-loose bachelor lifestyle. Plus Rude likes to sleep in, and those things make a lot of noise."
"He keeps me up late." the large man supplied without turning around.
"I should have bet him for a camera." Clarise noted wryly, sliding off the back of the large creature. "So here's a thing. What do I DO with it?"
"Well," Lyla began tentatively, "You could enter it in races and find yourself rolling in semi-fabulous prizes? Or sell it to someone who's into breeding or racing. Cloud might be interested, if you don't want it, though he has this really mean-tempered gold that's apparently his prize racer."
"Prince, right?" Clarise guessed, leaning on the bird's saddle.
"That would be the one," Lyla confirmed. "Tried to make off with Vincent's claw."
"Hat guy mentioned him." She nodded. "Mhm mhm. Apparently he's got a problem with tall, bright and bitchy in a personal way."
"Rivals, huh?" Lyla remarked, canting her head to get a better look at the bird in question. "Well. There are a couple of stables on the Shera, if you need somewhere to keep him while you decide what to do with him. I spotted them when I gave myself the tour."
Clarise gave her avian companion a thoughtful look, tapping her lips as one might stroke his magician's beard. "Guess it can't hurt." She shrugged.
Rude glanced over his shoulder, arching a brow. "No, really." he pointed. "What was your bet?"
The ginger flashed him all of her teeth.
"That means it was something real good," Reno pointed out, leaning forward to study the secretary with interest. "Come on, not even a hint, Clarise?"
Lyla's right eyebrow arched as she looked the ginger over critically. "That means you either bet yourself, or something that doesn't belong to you."
The slim woman put one hand on her hip, snorting in Lyla's general direction. "What sort of a girl do you think I am?" She huffed.
"One with a gambling problem." Rude pointed out, arching an eyebrow with amusement.
Clarise wagged her finger at him. "You don't bet yourself. You imply yourself. Give me the credit of a -little- class."
"This is why I'll never play with you," Reno told her firmly, straightening up only to lean against the table again, reaching to straighten the glasses that sat atop his head. "You cheat. With your breasts," he added, as though the implication itself were not enough.
Beside him, Lyla facepalmed.
"It's tempting though, isn't it." Clarise smirked.
"Wark." the chocobo added, firmly.
The recently reinstated secretary tugged on a lock of her hair absently, eyes skyward. "Anyway. It wasn't exactly an even match. So it's not like putting the Shera up against the bird was much of a gamble."
Reno laughed loudly, slamming one hand against the side of surface of the table and causing some of Rude's chips to create a small landslide atop the green felt. "You bet the SHERA? Seriously? Cid would shit if he knew," he said, grinning. "Even match or not."
She replied with another all-tooth grin, shrugging one shoulder. "If we're going to get technical I never -said- that. I mostly gestured and recited air ship statistics. From my general understanding, he stole the original ship from Shinra anyway, right?"
"That's one of those old, forgotten details I don't care about," Reno informed her with a flippant wave. "Well, aren't you tricky. You're almost as bad as the prez with the carefully-worded technicalities. He'd be proud."
Clarise flashed him a smile that was several less teeth, and by direct proportion, somewhat more sincere. "Creative application of truth is a good college and life skill."
"In the academic world, we call that bullshitting," Lyla said distantly, glancing only briefly at Clarise before turning her head to survey the room. So many people. There wasn't as much racket as there had been in the arcade, but it was starting to be too noisy, too close a press, enough to induce an acute case of claustrophobia.
"Bullshitting implies there was untruth in there." She pointed out wryly, before cocking her head. "...you okay, hunny?" she asked after a moment.
"I think I might need some air," the scientist told her with a frown, fussing with the fit of her gloves to keep her fingers busy. The redheaded Turk raised an eyebrow even as he reached to swipe a drink off a tray being carried by a passing casino employee.
"Thought you wanted to be around someone who could handle themselves," he reminded her.
"You're not gonna flip out and eat anybody, right?" Clarise frowned back, leaning down over the black chocobo's neck to give her shoulder a pat.
Lyla offered the other woman a sideways glance. "I don't think so. Though it's been a week full of surprises."
"Want us to head outside with you?" Reno offered, downing the glass in one fluid motion. The scientist shook her head in reply.
"No, I just... need a little room to breathe. I think I'll step out on my own for awhile."
"You sure you'll be okay?" the ginger asked, kneading at the reigns she held.
"I'll be fine," Lyla told her, giving her an easy smile in an attempt to prove it. "I just can't hear myself think in here. I'll be alright after a walk. You three have fun, okay? Keep up that winning streak."
Rude flashed her a thumbs up before turning back to the table, cracking his knuckles absently as he prepared to place another bet. But Reno was able to catch the edge of a frown as it pushed its way across thin lips.
Clarise hesitated before nodding, offering Lyla a little wave. "Come back, okay?" she asked in an almost girlish voice.
"I will," Lyla promised her, giving a small wave in return as she stepped away from the table and started to turn her back to the trio. "I'll call if something changes."
"Let us know if you need backup, princess," Reno informed her as he turned back to the table to watch Rude, or at least to give the appearance of doing so. His tone was flippant despite his concern, and he checked over his shoulder to make sure the brunette was well out of earshot before he said anything more. "So she's just gettin' weirder all the time."
His partner nodded with a low grunt, straightening up as the wheel bounced and rolled to settle on black.
Clarise, however, made no pretense of watching the scientist go. "She's not coming back tonight, is she." she asked in a tiny voice.
"Nope," Reno confirmed, swapping his empty glass for a fresh one as another tray-bearing hostess passed. "Not so sure about what she'll do with herself, though."
The ginger tapped out a nervous rhythm along her new mount's reigns. "Me, neither." she murmured. "I hope at least it's fun to remember in the morning."
Reno gave her a look that was nothing short of disbelieving, if brief. "Yeah, right," he laughed sharply, turning back to the table. "Like she'd let herself have enough fun for that. You gonna stand there and fuss all night, McHotHot, or are you going to come drape yourself over Rude and distract the competition?"
"Sounds like a plan." She chirped, making her way around the massive bird to stand at the taller man's side, leaning back on her tiptoes to offering him a look that might have better suited perked ears and a lashing tail. "If you don't mind?"
Rude grinned back toothily.
Taking this as a resounding no, the ginger chuckled before slinking against his arm. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was a little sad she couldn't string together a proper joke about the big Turk's bitches.
"Let it ride, big guy," Reno advised, tilting his head to watch the roulette wheel as he tipped back the contents of his glass. No reason not to enjoy themselves just because they were beset upon by something so troublesome as -worry.-
Even as she emerged from the casino, Lyla felt some degree of relief as the noisy chatter of patrons fell away. The ringing in her ears lessened, if only slightly, and the heat from what felt like the close press of too many bodies began to fade. Even with the absence of the noise from the casino, there was no peace. Here, in the relative quiet of the corridor, she could hear the never-ending stream of thoughts that were not her own more clearly. They had been jumbled at first, but as the days and even hours passed, they became louder, more lucid, more eager.
Cloud. Where is Cloud? Revenge. Mother, leave me be. Mother, what is it you want? Father, I only want to help you. Don't cry, Loz. Is that where Big Brother lives? Legacy. Mother's legacy. Why am I the chosen one? Because we are special. Become one with the planet. Make the pain stop. Make everything stop. Find Cloud. Revenge. Rushing in all at once, whisper-quiet, and at the same time, deafening in their insistence.
"Shut up," she muttered, burying her face in her hands as she came to a stop in front of a row of storefronts. The corridor that ran between the casino and hotel served as a shopping mall for various needs, though most of the stores were empty this time of the afternoon, with visitors off seeing other attractions. Lyla was grateful there was no one to see her standing there, talking to herself - or so she thought.
"Hey," a girl's voice interrupted her from somewhere to her left. "You look like you could use a pick-me-up!" Lyla blinked slowly before removing her hands, lifting her head to see who had addressed her. The girl looked to be a few years younger than her, as well as a handful of inches shorter, and stood there grinning with a wide, brilliant toothpaste smile. Her dark hair was cut short and carelessly swept to one side, her clothes implying that she was dressed for combat more than for shopping - not to mention the oversized shuriken on her back.
"I- excuse me?" Lyla asked her, finding the interruption somewhat jarring.
"This way!" the girl exclaimed with a smile that was just a little -too- bright to be genuine. She put a hand against the scientist's back and steered her towards the nearest storefront, gesturing widely to the sign above the open archway that read "Krazie Yuffie's House of Krazie Bargains," with a smaller sign posted beneath it that read "(It's Krazie!)" in smaller but just-as-brilliant lettering. "Welcome to Krazie Yuffie's, here to service all your materia and bargain-hunting needs!"
"Let me guess," Lyla began flatly, "You're Yuffie?"
"In the flesh! And I assure you, everything here is the genuine article, myself included!" Yuffie boasted with another wide, dramatic gesture. "The name isn't a coincidence, you know. I'm sure you've heard of the Great Ninja Yuffie, Flower of Wutai, of course!"
Lyla looked at her for a moment. "No."
Yuffie looked mildly disappointed. "No? How about Materia Hunter Yuffie, the world's most exotic and beautiful thief?"
"... still no."
"Yuffie." came a low, evenly inflected voice. "What are you doing?"
The girl let out a high, curtailed yelp as the familiar voice interrupted what was about to be a fantastic sales pitch. She whirled around and smiled at the gunman, giving him a dismissive sort of wave as she smoothed her hair back with the other hand. "Vincent! What are you doing here? On vacation with Cid?"
Beside her, Lyla offered the gunman a look that very clearly read 'Help Me.'
The fact that that was really almost the truth, in a sick, sick way, didn't help matters. The ex-Turk offered his associate a long, cool look.
After several games during which he had quietly coached the enthusiastic pair of not-quite-at-double-digits sharpshooters, Vincent had returned them to their guardians and set out in search.
Specifically it had been for Lyla, whose earlier anxiety had struck a chord in him that worried. It was more than the gentleman in him that was disinterested in letting Lyla roam unattended, at the moment.
That, and he had promised.
Aloud he only said: "Oh, ha. Very ha."
"But seriously now," Yuffie went on, the girlish charm falling away as her voice went very flat. She gestured to the woman beside her. "I'm in the middle of a sale here, Vincent."
"No you're not," Lyla reminded her, resting a hand on her hip. "No offense, it's a standard practice of mine not to buy anything from anyone who refers to themselves as 'Krazie.'"
"You didn't even let me pitch our super-low-priced Restore materia to you yet!" Yuffie insisted. "You would have come around!"
"They explode." Vincent supplied simply.
"You're going to frighten away my customers, Vin," Yuffie informed him in such a way that it implied a serious pout was sure to follow.
"I won't run, but I'm more inclined to take his advice," Lyla told the anxious entrepreneur, inclining her head towards the gunman with a careful smile.
Yuffie looked between the pair of them and placed both hands on her hips. "You know him?" she asked, followed by a sigh. "There goes a potential sale, then. I'm glad you don't visit that often, Vincent, or else you'd drive me right out of business! Careful, lady, he's a super freak," the ninja went on, cheerful despite her complaints.
"That's my boyfriend you're talking about," Lyla said coolly, eyes alight with a brand of mischief she was careful to withhold from the rest of her expression. If Vincent objected to the label, she thought he would sanction it just this once, at least - it was worth the look on Yuffie's face.
The ex-Turk dipped his chin to cover the sudden cough he felt nearly overtake him. Instead, the cowl simply rose enough to hide most of his expression from view.
The look on her face was, as it happened, more than worth it. But that didn't mean he trusted the expression on his own face.
Lyla shot him a quick, apologetic look followed by a nervous smile when she was sure Yuffie wasn't looking. She quickly forced her expression to calm and neutral as the ninja turned her attention back to her, then looked back and forth between the pair of them a few times.
"Weird," Yuffie said finally, shrugging afterwards. "So, Vincent, where have you been? You never answer your phone anymore. I've been calling you for weeks and your voicemail is all full! I'm hurt, we're supposed to be friends! I bet you answer for Cid."
The gunman cleared his throat. "I lost it." He replied simply.
Well, the ninja was nothing if not quick on her feet for a recovery.
"You dolt," came the affectionate reply as the ninja cocked her hips to one side. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You would never just come to play, you're all old and stodgy. What's going on, Eeyore?"
Vincent closed one eye very slowly to express his distress at this title. For a moment he seemed to consider his reply, as though carefully weighing the consequences of two possible paths.
"Same old problem." he said at last. "Looking for Cloud."
"Oh. Well, he's in the same place as always," Yuffie informed him, "On that stupid snowboarding game in Wonder Square, even though he seriously sucks at it. Tifa has come by a couple of times, though."
"We ran into them earlier," Lyla supplied, discreetly scooting away from the ninja and closer to the more familiar party present. "That's pretty much spot-on."
The gunman nodded, folding his arms. If it bothered him that the subtlety he had attempted to afford the situation was apparently too subtle, he didn't say so. Instead he only fixed Yuffie with an even gaze. "Have you been watching the news."
"Yeah, Sephiroth 'lookalike' sightings everywhere, and you just TOLD me you're looking for Cloud. I'm not stupid," Yuffie reminded him in such a way that it was obvious his subtlety had not been lost on her. "Of course you want my help, right? So let's get down to business, old man. How much are you gonna pay me? Girl's gotta eat and I'll be putting my business on hold to come along with you. Anyway, I know you want my help because I'm so good."
Lyla merely offered the gunman a look that read, 'For real?'
He arched an eyebrow in reply, seeming unflustered by her enthusiasm. If it might be called that.
"Then you know he's on his way here. We don't have very long."
"Okay, fine, I'll put it on your bill," Yuffie conceded, feigning exasperation. "But I don't take IOU's, so no skipping out on me! Think of it as repaying your debt for being such a lousy friend lately! I do take major credit cards these days if you'd rather not pay in cash. There's also a twenty-five gil charge for bounced checks."
"You're serious," Lyla remarked with a raised eyebrow.
"As a heart attack, supposed-girlfriend," the ninja confirmed brightly. "When do we leave?"
Vincent offered Lyla a wry look from somewhere beneath all the red, extending his human hand in a gesture of presentation.
"The flower of Wutai." he said simply, beckoning her with a slight curl of his claws. "Let's get going."
"Fine, I'll just ask Tifa, then," Yuffie told him, dismissing the fact that he had not bothered to answer her. "I need to tie up a few loose ends around the store, anyway. Have fun, and be careful, Cid will get jealous if he knows you're out with someone else."
Lyla smiled to herself as she turned to follow Vincent's gesture, moving back towards the corridor. "She has a point, Cid will be awfully jealous," she told him, hooking one thumb into her pocket.
"He cheats on me with his wife." Vincent replied flatly, and then, somewhat louder, "The Haunted Hotel, Yuffie." Knowing she might at least find Cid in it's bar.
"I'll head there after I close," Yuffie called to him, offering both a parting wave as she ducked behind the cashwrap by the door. "Get the details and all."
Lyla almost grinned in reply, her mouth falling just a little bit short of the mark even as she looked over her shoulder to nod a goodbye to the young shopkeeper. "It's nice that you and Cid have such an open relationship," she teased in turn, facing forward again. "... so. She's crazy."
"Yes." the gunman agreed, eyes forward with some serenity he should not have been allowed, given the circumstances. "It does say so right on the sign."
"At least no one can fault her for false advertising," Lyla mused aloud as they walked, heading towards the hotel at an even pace, occasionally passing one of the miniature potted palm trees that dotted the length of the hallway. "Sorry if I caught you off-guard in there, thought it would be worth it to see the look on her face. I feel it was."
"Not at all." Vincent agreed, amusement muted, but clearly audible. It faded after a moment, though, even as he turned his eyes toward the ceiling. "How have you been?"
"I went to the casino for the company, but couldn't handle all the people," she confessed, looking down as he turned his own gaze upwards. "Too noisy, I had to get out of there. I was actually heading back to the hotel when Yuffie caught me. ... too many thoughts in my head that aren't my own," she went on. "I can't hear myself think."
"You could try not thinking." he offered, glancing over at her as they walked. If he was kidding, it didn't show in his expression. Not that that was much of news.
"It feels odd to admit that I'm used to this sort of thing," she told him, frowning to herself. "Just not so loud. And not so often. ... try not thinking," she echoed, letting out a short, humorless laugh. "Anything is worth a shot, isn't it? ... there's something else, too."
"A mantra." he clarified. "That's what they're for." But the last sentence gave him pause. Vincent looked over, arching an eyebrow to encourage her continue.
Lyla gave him a sidelong glance as she considered his suggestion. He had been right about everything so far, after all. She looked forward again and exhaled heavily. "... I feel like I'm being watched. Not just by Sephiroth. That comes and goes, his attention is a little divided by what's going on in his head, but... I don't know. Just a feeling."
Ah well. And here he had been worried it was going to be -bad- news.
The gunman glanced heavenward again, considering that. "Not Jenova." he guessed.
"No," she said softly, shaking her head. "Like a person."
He frowned, turning to give her his full attention for a beat. "Like Ingram."
"Seems the most logical choice," Lyla told him, grimacing as they slowed to a stop for a moment. "And somehow makes me feel a hell of a lot more violated than all of the noise in my head."
"But how." the gunman dipped his head in thought. "Even if he experimented on himself, Cloud .. and I... prove that Jenova cells don't necessarily mean a psychic link."
"I don't know," she said, crossing her arms and sliding her hands up to rest just beneath her shoulders, biting at her lower lip as she discreetly glanced either way down the corridor. "Creeping me out, though."
Vincent watched her for a beat before looking away, unable to reconcile two minds of how he ought to respond. Without looking back, he raised his human hand very slightly, palm up, and fingers splayed.
She hesitated for a moment, looking at the offered hand before daring to reach out and take it, slipping her fingers through his and giving it a gentle squeeze of thanks. She closed some of the distance between them, hoping it would do something to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Vincent, for his own part, said nothing. Only gave her fingers a squeeze that might have been comfort, or nerve endings in malfunction.