Cloud takes a walk on the day of the mission, clearing his head. It still feels strange, foggy, not one he's used to, though he doesn't let any of that on to Tifa. He is better, getting better all the time, so nothing's wrong with him. His attention's sharp as he walks through the sector and a clumsy pickpocket gets, to their dismay, not just an empty pocket—there won't be a gil to his name until later tonight—but a sharp admonition and a heave-ho into a nearby dumpster.

He eyes his hands after that. It was impulsive. The punk deserved it. But he's never done that before. Has he? It seems like the kind of thing he'd do. He's never had any tolerance for that garbage, and he appreciates the wide berth he's given afterward.

But he hasn't done anything like that before.

He purses his lips, a frustrated noise pushing its way out. The circular thoughts are doing nothing but frustrating him. He is how he is. He's a SOLDIER, he doesn't have to put up with that.

Maybe it feels wrong because of how much attention it attracted. There's less noisy ways to deal with thieves. Yeah. And he's just overthinking his state of mind: it's his head, no matter how weird it feels at the moment, and all these thoughts are his, and if anything's off it's just because he wasn't lucid for a long time.

…Was he?

The bar is full of chatter when he pushes his way back inside, despite it being too early for opening. Tifa's voice carries easily to him; she's sitting by another woman with brown hair, lighter, and they exchange low words at what seems to him a breakneck pace. The woman's hands are squeezed in each other and Tifa reaches in, shaking the right from the left as she presses gently. "I know. You're a genius, Jessie. Don't worry about it."

Two guys are sitting at another table; one nursing a soda has a build like Cloud's, a little more muscular, though he undoubtedly packs less punch since he's not enhanced and non-military. The other's packing more paunch than punch as he chews on a sub sandwich, praising it loudly so Tifa hears, and Cloud spots the indulgent smile on her face when she looks over. "How about I make up another when you get back?"

…This? This is AVALANCHE?

Cloud instantly dislikes the crew, so strongly that at first he's too surprised by the feeling to think about the why. But once he does, it's clear. They're not the group of hardened rebels he (vaguely) remembers fighting against; they're rookies playing at the big leagues. He wouldn't be surprised if they got themselves killed with an amateur mistake, and that's not something Tifa should be caught up in.

It's got nothing to do with Tifa being so friendly with them. It's got nothing to do with the fact that they're so busy talking amongst themselves that they don't even notice Cloud quietly standing there. Those feelings are there, sitting just under the surface, but Cloud skips straight over them without a second thought—barely a first—because disliking them for something like that would be desperate and clingy and he's not some pathetic loser. Never has been. No, he just wants to know he's working with people who know what the hell they're doing.

Their attention is caught when he walks over to the bar. "You're back." He nods in response to Tifa belatedly realizing his presence and seats himself on one stool, where he can keep the group in his peripheral vision.

"Hey!"

"Yo!"

"Is that him?"

Obviously.

"Yeah, that's him," Tifa says, furrowing her brow at Cloud's reticence. She remembers him being a little shy in Nibelheim, but this looks like he's clammed up completely. "Hang on, guys, I'll talk to him." She approaches; her right boot taps the hard wood floor before she addresses him. "Cloud…? Did something happen while you were out?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing interesting."

"You seem a little bothered."

That makes him look up at her instead of keeping his face turned away. "I'm fine." He isn't bothered, and Tifa should know that.

He's just not impressed.

Tifa's eyes rest on his face for a few seconds, taking in his expression, before she turns to indicate the others. "This is most of the group. Barret's not here yet."

"Who's Barret?"

"Our fearless leader," says the leaner man, eyeing Cloud with a tight smirk. "Only one braver than him is me!"

"If you say so."

"Oh Cloud," Tifa starts, the reproach wavering between playful and serious, but then a mountain of a guy shoves the bar door open. The dark, earthy tones of his skin and clothing are topped by a pink peak, and Cloud blinks at the little girl who hops down from those massive shoulders and runs around the bar like she's just come home.

"Heh heh heh…so none of you chickened out. Good!" The new man—presumably the leader—slams one fist onto a table for emphasis, but what Cloud notices is the gun grafted onto the other arm. He's either more seriously experienced or a major loose cannon. Cloud isn't ready to bet on one or the other yet, but either way this guy's seen trouble. "Yo! Tifa's boy!"

"Barret!" Tifa hisses.

"Yo." Cloud drawls his response, eyes narrowed slightly.

"Tch. You don't look so tough, short stuff. The hell you carrying a bigass sword like that for?"

First impression is now complete: Barret's an idiot with a loose cannon. "It's my weapon," gets stated in an extremely deadpan, 'what do you think?' tone.

"Hmph! Long as you use it right. Now, uh—Tifa…" His dark brown eyes dart first to Marlene, then the bartender, who understands perfectly.

"Marlene, you want to help me count inventory? We got a new order in today."

The little girl skips over to Tifa, nodding, and the two of them disappear into the backroom. Barret heaves a sigh before his shoulders square again. "A'right, newcomer, over here. I ain't sayin' this twice."

Cloud does need the gil, so he gets up to hear what Barret's got to say about their mission. At least, as the briefing progresses, it seems like the other three all respect the man—if they get in a jam, they won't start arguing about who to listen to. That's important. Whether Barret can come through in a crisis is an entirely different matter. And from the looks he keeps getting sent, Cloud knows he's not trusted. When Barret asks a question, it feels like a small competition, the two of them jockeying for position. They're not going to defer to each other.

Which is just fine, because Cloud's not a part of their group in the first place. He'll help out with this job, but then he's hitting the road.

Maybe after giving Tifa a piece of his mind about these guys. Hoo, boy.

"All right, enough talk!" Barret says after the briefing, banging his gun-arm on the table again. "It's time for the fireworks! Let's give those Shinra folk a show they can't miss, heh heh…"


Author's Note: I have to admit, I don't remember what this was originally supposed to cover, so I'm mostly just having fun with the early game interactions as Cloud decides on who he is for the game's opening.

Which is, obviously, kind of a jerk.