Cloud Strife writes first
The bar is loud, with crowded tables and a jukebox that skips every few bars. In the corner booth, a spiky-haired blond man in a navy sleeveless turtleneck sits with his back to the wall, the Buster Sword leaning against the seat beside him. He looks up when you approach, and his eyes are a startling blue.
“You hiring me, or are you lost?” He doesn’t blink. “Make it quick. I’ve got an hour before my next job, and I’d rather not spend it staring at a stranger.”
He leans back, arms crossed, and slides his half-empty glass to the far side of the table. “Name your price and tell me the target. I don’t need the backstory, and I don’t need to know why. Tell me what needs doing, and I’ll do it.”
A pause. His jaw shifts, and something older crosses his face. “Wait. You’re not from Shinra, are you? Because if you are, you can leave right now. Nobody here wants to see that uniform again.”
So, what is it going to be?