You Irritate Me
Vincent suppressed an irritable sigh as he stopped sifting through his bag in hopelessness. Honestly. How on earth had he managed to forget such a simple item as a hairbrush?
He hadn't intended on keeping the long hair once he realized exactly how long it had grown; it got in his eyes occasionally and was too much of a hassle. However, he had kept putting off getting it cut due to the dozens of false Sephiroths thrown in their path, and had finally resigned himself to keeping it.
In which case, it needed to be kept tamed. Which, of course, required a hairbrush. Which led to his current dilemma; he had apparently left his hairbrush in their last port. A careless mistake.
A rather loud thump on the wall to his right caused his hand to jump to his gun holster. And remembered that the very same thumps had been going on all night . . . and that the room they were being issued from belonged to Yuffie Kisaragi.
He scowled. The girl grated continually on his nerves, with her unceasing chatter and habit of making an infernal racket, and wasn't content merely avoiding him like everybody else. Oh, no, she had to leap about him, making loud comments about his claw, drawing even more attention to him then it already did.
She apparently thought it was 'neato' and 'booya' and thousands of other nonsensical words he'd not bothered to file in his brain. He sighed. On top of that, with her short hair, she probably didn't have a hairbrush he could borrow. While Cloud might have a brush, it was most likely so encrusted with dried hair gel it was unusable, so that left Miss Gainsborough, who had nothing to her name but the clothes on her back, and Miss Lockheart. Miss Lockheart it was.
Vincent looked up. He'd rather not refer to Tifa by her first name unless completely necessary; she was the kind of woman who deserved respect but rarely got it. Keeping that in mind, he flattened his mane in temporarily suitable fashion, swung on his cape and stalked down the hall to where he presumed her room was.
Trying to keep the awkwardness at knocking on a lady's door at a reasonable level, he rapped the door smartly. "Miss Lockheart?"
Nothing. He tried again, knocking a bit more deliberately. "Miss Lockheart, I would like to speak with you."
Frowning, Vincent's let his fingers linger on the doorknob a moment. He'd heard her talking with Barret in the halls a few minutes ago; she shouldn't be asleep. He turned the knob slowly, and pushed it in cautiously.
It was dark, and empty. It appeared that Tifa had left some time ago, but was planning on returning, as her things were still strewn about in the room. Vincent shrugged, and eyed her dresser. Apparently, she didn't see much need for femininities, and her beauty habits had just the bare essentials.
Which, fortunately for him, included a hairbrush. He had to bend slightly to see into the mirror, but once he had managed to get his tangles into reasonable shape, Vincent left, intent on heading back to his room and packing. What Miss Lockhart didn't know wouldn't hurt her, not that the use of a hairbrush was threatening in any way.
He stepped quietly back into the dimly lit hall, and pulled the door silently shut behind him, waiting for the distinct click before
Of course. The annoying, brattish ninja just had to have seen him. Stifling the look of disgust his face wanted to conjure, he kept his composure blissfully blank and bowed courteously. "Excuse me, if you were searching for Miss Lockhart, she isn't in her room."
Hopefully, the ninja was professional enough to get the signs. From the Shin-Ra Turks to the Midgar SOLDIER to the Wutainese ninjas, all forms of the elite had a loose code for things like this – 'We'll pretend it didn't happen, and I'll do the same for you when you need it.' He continued down the hall.
"I'm gonna tell everyone you were in Tifa's room." Yuffie's voice forced Vincent to freeze and to suppress a wince. And she called herself a ninja . . . weren't they supposed to be stealthy, NOT excruciatingly obvious?
Vincent was fully aware of the implications of his being in Tifa's room, and in fact, once Yuffies bounced around shouting at the top of her lungs that it was so; his rather limp excuse of searching for a hairbrush simply wouldn't stand up, no matter how truthful it was.
"And?" He couldn't summon the will to keep the resigned irritation out of his tone. Vincent supposed he'd have to retreat and follow the group at a distance from now on. He did need to speak with Sephiroth, and no doubt they'd eventually have to readmit him due to one or two of the members getting killed from this girl's foolishness alone.
"And what?" Yuffie piped. Vincent turned his head to the side, and glared at her from the corner of his eye. Was the girl really that infernally clueless?
"And what must I do to help you forget that unimportant piece of information?" Vincent prayed silently that she was negotiable. Despite her cleverness in battle, her wits outside of combat were applied in all the wrong places.
The girl bounded up next to him and yanked on his cape, and he twitched in annoyance. There she went again, with the touching. He didn't enjoy touching.
"But . . . but that's blackmail!" She said gleefully. "On my part, too!" She seemed extraordinarily cheerful at the prospect of breaking yet another law. Vincent turned to face her head on; was she just out to fulfill her life goal of breaking every law known to man?
Vincent enunciated clearly and slowly for her benefit. "I prefer to call it bribery, Miss Kisaragi."
At which point Yuffie blinked at his, and started to giggle inanely. Vincent shifted. He was used to being the target of ridicule, but this . . . though he couldn't label why, this wasn't quite what he was used to. "What is so amusing?"
"Gawd! 'Miss Kisaragi'?" She fell ungracefully to the side, landing against the wall with a far too loud thump. "You can even make breaking the law sound like, I dunno . . ."
"A matter of grave importance?" Vincent offered, eager to finish this conversation and get on with his packing.
"Yeah, what you said." She yawned, stretching in as loud and obvious way as possible before righting herself. Vincent stepped back as she swayed; if she was going to fall over, he was most certainly not going to catch her.
Although he would have taken a sinful sort of satisfaction from seeing her crash inelegantly to the ground, she managed to stay on her feet. Vincent made a mental note to himself to find out exactly why this girl, of all people, brought out his sadist tendencies.
"Anyhoo, about that bribe thing . . ." Of course, she says it like there was a different topic to begin with. Vincent was getting tired of dealing with the obnoxious ninja child, and would be extremely grateful when he could remove himself from her grating presence.
The girl was also making a great deal of show of thinking, putting her hand to her temple and tapping her foot incessantly. After which, she snapped her fingers and grinned wildly up at him. This also disconcerted Vincent; he wasn't used to being smiled at. Turks weren't big at smiling.
"You," she proclaimed loudly, "are taking me to the carnival!"
Vincent blinked. Why on God's good earth would she want him to take her to so childish and stupid thing as a carnival? "I was thinking more of a monetary amount."
"Money's great and all that," Yuffie admitted, "but there's a problem . . ." she hesitated. Vincent just stared at her. She gulped. Aha, Vincent shook his head. It seemed he scared her, as he scared pretty much everyone below the age of 18,. Of course, Vincent thought ruefully, he scared quite a few above the age of 18, as well . . .
"See, uh . . . I went earlier, and there was this uh . . ." Yuffie swallowed, thinking. "Mistake! Yeah, there was this mistake, and I got kicked out until I could find supervision." She nodded rapidly.
Vincent suppressed yet another sigh. In other words, she had decided to pickpocket someone, gotten caught, and promptly been thrown out . . . which left him playing granddaddy to the ninja until she decided she wanted to leave. The role would be close enough to bodyguard that it wouldn't be too unfamiliar, but he realized he'd probably end up paying for everything.
"So, I provide this . . . supervision, and the tickets, and in return you provide your silence in this matter?" Vincent questioned gravely.
"Yup!" Yuffie stuck out her hand, to shake on it. Her left hand, to be exact. Vincent narrowed his eyes at it, and instinctively dragged his claw behind his cloak. Really, she didn't actually want physical contact with it, did she?
The ninja blinked a few times at his reluctance, and looked annoyed for a moment. "Oh gawd, don't be so stupid." She grabbed at his metallic wrist, and although Vincent couldn't actually feel it, the knowledge that she was forcing him to shake her hand was very strange indeed. He shoved that thought back to brood on later.
Damned clever girl. He withdrew his claw with a scowl. "I need a few moments to pack," he said flatly, and cursed his ill fortune as he headed towards his room.
He shut the door quietly – he found it necessary to do everything as quietly as possible – and fumed. What he was being forced into was NOT his idea of constructive. His time would be better spent training in the nearby forests, or perhaps tracking the latest 'man in the black cape' sighting.
Unfortunately, though, he was being forced to play baby sitter. Showing an extraordinary lapse in order, he grabbed his things and crammed them haphazardly into his small bag as rapidly as possible. Quite the far cry from his usual, meticulous folding method.
In a detached sort of way, he was shocked that he didn't break the zipper when he finished. Vincent found no need to hide his feelings on the matter, so long as he was in solitude. "I do not want to do this . . ." he muttered.
"What? You, whining? Holy crap, what's next, the Ragnorak?" Vincent didn't bother spinning around; Yuffie had obviously come in without knocking. Cursing his bad luck, he followed Yuffie out and to the street, listening halfheartedly to her rambles.
"Ya know, you walk really cool," Yuffie chattered as they headed in what Vincent assumed was the general direction of the fairgrounds. "Can't really call it walking, you kinda . . . I dunno, float. You'd think those metal things would make a lot of noise, but you could prolly sneak up on someone really good, couldn't you?"
Vincent decided it was best not to dignify her chatter with a response as Yuffie looked up at him. "Heh, and being so pointy, they'd really hurt if ya gave someone a good kick in the arse, eh?"
"I don't think you want to find out, Miss Kisaragi," Vincent ground out. It wasn't as though he had chosen his clothes for fashion, they were all extremely serviceable and had good durability, and had stood the test of thirty years of time.
Yuffie didn't notice his warning tone, nor did she catch the thinly veiled threat. Or, perhaps she had caught the threat, and had actually shown enough sense to ignore it. Vincent suppressed his shrug.
As Yuffie skipped and chattered and generally tried to make 'conversation' with him, Vincent brooded. He was very good at brooding, it was a talent he had gained through much practice; although the current topic was an interesting, if annoying, change of pace.
Yuffie Kisaragi was a bit more than she seemed. Her eyes were strangely familiar. While she wasn't bothering to hide her Wutainese heritage, she was trying to conceal certain things. . . like when Cloud had asked her about the symbols on her head scarf, she had cleverly changed the topic – by way of spilling her drink on RedXIII.
Vincent frowned. He doubted she knew that his own heritage allowed him to know the Wutainese Royal crest and colors when he saw it, not to mention notice her illogical reverence for summons. While she might very well have stolen the scarf . . . no, the Wutainese almost worshipped their royalty.
He felt slightly disgusted. While he could no longer lay claim to his family ties in Wutai, it irked him that the annoying twit prancing beside him was the heir to his home country's throne. How the mighty had fallen; before his sleep, Wutai had been very prosperous.
"OY! HELLLOOO!" Vincent blinked as a hand was waved in front of him.
"What?" He snapped.
"The tickets!" Yuffie pointed at the booth in front of them. Vincent cursed his momentary lapse of watchfulness; then again, it took a great deal of concentration to ignore Yuffie. It wasn't entirely his fault.
"Two tickets." He told the scrawny youth in the box offhandly, reaching into his cape for the money.
The boy sniffled disgustingly across his sleeve, and Vincent wrinkled his nose in distaste. "She ain't comin' back in," he drawled high-handedly, "she was – "
Vincent narrowed his eyes. He really wasn't in a good mood; he refused to deal with this. He straightened, squaring his shjoulders slightly, and gave his best glare. The youth's eyes widened considerably. "I. SAID. TWO. TICKETS," Vincent hissed.
The youth didn't move. Vincent scowled even more; what did he have to do to get these children to listen? Plus that familiar, nagging tugging on his sleeve . . .
Ah. Of course it was familiar, it was Yuffie. Vincent blinked to clear his head as Yuffie looked up at him beseechingly. Well, never let it be said that Yuffie couldn't turn up the innocence.
"HEY!" She tugged again, looking convincingly worried. "Hey, tone down your scariness, will ya? The guys about to crap his pants!"
He queeled his anger, tracing the unnecessary aggravation to his inner beast. He shook his head to clear it once more. "On the contrary," muttered Vincent as he gave the trembling ticket receiver a once over; he actually looked rather constipated, but he kept that particular comment to himself and wondered how exactly one toned down one's scariness.
He assumed Yuffie managed to get the tickets, because he stalked past the booth and no one tried to stop him, Yuffie at his heels moments later.
Well, the mission goal was to get this over with as fast as humanely possible, if it was possible at all for him to do something humanely. "Where do you wish to go first?" He asked brusquely.
"The midway!" She squealed. Vincent schooled his face to be as blank as possible, Turk instincts telling him not to betray that he had no idea what a midway was. Perhaps a ride of some sort . . .
"Lead on," he said gravely. Yuffie grinned at him, and he stared dispassionately back. Her grin didn't fade, but she turned away, skipping through the crowd. Vincent followed at a short distance, the people parting before him to avoid his brooding glare.
Vincent eyed the booths appearing to his right. Games. The midway was games, although why anyone would want to perform such humiliating tasks for an overly sized bright pink plushy, the concept was beyond him.
Yuffie appeared in front of him once more, taking hold of his cape and tugging him. "Hey, look! You could do that!"
Vincent inspected the brightly lit tent with overly sized bulls eyes decorating the sides, over a hundred feet away. "What am I supposed to do?"
She froze in her tracks, and looked up at him in shock. "What? Haven't you played a carnival game afore?" Her eyes widened slightly. "HEY, have you even BEEN to a fair before now?"
Well, the truth was not a lie . . . "No."
"Oh . . . wow . . . well then . . ." Yuffie glanced at him as if he'd done something horrendously taboo. "Well . . . see, in that game, you just gotta shoot the bulls eye three times outta five, and you get a prize. . ." she trailed off.
That seemed simple enough. Vincent did exactly that.
BANG BANG BANG. His revolver made a nice neat hole in the center of the cardboard, although his third shot had been a little off, but the bulls eye was so huge it would have taken an infant to miss it.
He turned to Yuffie. "Well?"
"You . . . uh, aren't supposed to use a real gun . . . and uh . . . were those real bullets?"
What an ignorant question. He cocked an eyebrow down at her. "They wouldn't be very useful if they weren't."
"Um . . ." Yuffie looked around nervously, and Vincent noticed the majority of small children around him beginning to wail. "I'm pretty sure real ammo's not allowed either . . ." She whispered hurriedly. "And you gotta pay before you can play. . ."
Pay? In order to do a task that simple, from less than forty yards? And for what, an oversized and particularly unattractive stuffed mog . . . well, who was he to judge this form of . . . dare he say, 'entertainment.'
"Hmm," He let out, to show the now extremely anxious ninja he was listening. "And I don't think gunfire in public is a good idea either," she hissed, before looking behind her. She let out a 'meep' and grabbed his wrist, yanking him behind another tent. He grunted as a security personnel dashed by, reporting 'a lunatic shooting at some poor kids.'
Vincent scowled. Him, target an innocent? It was an insult. Really, had he really just wasted half a clip on that?*
He sighed, and peered at the ninja hiding next to him. "I don't think we should stay here for much longer, Miss Kisaragi."
"No . . . uh. . . how about the vendors . . ." Yuffie slunk off to the right, and Vincent followed. Exercising stealth actually was a wise choice to him; he had no desire to be noticed in such a ridiculous setting.
He coughed. The air was getting fouler by the second . . . what was that stench? If he warped his senses enough, it could almost be interpreted as the smell of . . .
"Food!" Yuffie screeched, causing Vincent to lift his eyes in a plea to the heavens. God, I have done many horrors in my life . . . is this my divine punishment? It is far, far worse than the fires I had feared . . . he followed her back in to crowd.
Yuffie grinned up at him. "Look; hey Vinnie, can I have one?" She pointed exuberantly at a Lollipop stand. Vincent twitched. How humiliating. He refused to go near the disgusting thing. He fished in his cape for a moment, withdrawing a ten gil coin. He flipped it to her expertly, and she snatched it out of the air.
"Cool! Be right back!" Yuffie scampered towards it, leaving Vincent standing rather awkwardly in the center of the moving crowds. He peered around his surroundings cautiously, before sidestepping so his back was against a tent. He leaned back slightly, and inspected his claw.
It needed oiling, actually. While it was hard to fire a gun properly with it, he had often found it necessary to switch hands in battle. However, it was in terrible working condition when he had first awoken; when he had found Barret's tools, it had been a gift from God. In fact, he –
A burst of giggling to his side distracted his thoughts. Without turning his head, he narrowed his eyes, and tried to focus on his peripheral vision. It didn't work very well, he ended up trying to act casual and scanned the crowd, to find the culprits.
He quickly stiffened and stared intensely at his shoes. Of course. The girls, not much older than Yuffie by their looks and – was it possible? – even more scantily clad, were pointing and laughing at him almost blatantly, so thinly veiled were their stares. He was used to such taunting . . . but his mind vaguely hoped Yuffie didn't end up like them.
Vincent hid a wince. Not . . . not that he cared of course! It was a rather vague thought, to begin with. Of course, he would never care about Yuffies opinion of him. Ever . . .
In an effort to get them to stop their gratuitous amusement at his expense, he shot his head up and glared at them. They remained undaunted, and nearly collapsed upon eachother in their latest fit of giggles. No doubt a good look at his eyes had set them off . . .
Vincent gave up.
Yuffie bumped into him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her. She licked her newly acquired candy childishly before popping it into her mouth, looking up at him, and frowning. "Hey, you look a bit more angsty than usual. What's up?"
He scowled; what business was it of hers? However, technically this was his half of a deal, and thus she was, in a sense, his client. He hid his disapproval of the question with a curt answer, and a swift nod at the giggling crowd to his left. "I do not enjoy being stared at."
Yuffie took one swift look at them, and gave him a cock-eyed look. "What, are you gay** or something?"
Vincent gaped. What? "I should think not," he said almost disgustedly. "Where did that question come from?" he demanded. "If they were laughing at you, no doubt you wouldn't like it, either, Miss Kisaragi." Although now that he mentioned it, they were already beginning to shoot Yuffie dirty looks. . .
Yuffie looked at the gaggling crowd, and back at his tilted head, then back to the group. And then, back to his face. She shook her head almost disgustedly. "You really that clueless?"
He bristled automatically. What, was every female on the planet against him? "I should – "
She cut him off shortly. "Don't dig yourself deeper, bud. Here, I can get rid of them if you want."
He had no idea how she would do so, but he supposed even an unsuccessful effort couldn't hurt. "Fine."
Blinking cautiously as she wound her arm around his, he watched as the girls' expressions grew uglier by the second. Well, at least their attention seemed to be focused more on Yuffie than him. Yuffie winked at him quite obviously, and Vincent wondered exactly how this solved the predicament.
Yuffie swiveled suddenly on her heel, almost making him stumble as she glared directly at the group. Vincent had no idea her glaring abilities were as good as they were; perhaps with training, she might be able to rival him. Might.
And he was almost appalled at the string of curses he began to yell at them, consisting mostly of taunts involving their dubious parentage and sleeping habits. Key word being, of course, almost; he held no sympathy as they glared back shortly and, to his astonishment, walked off.
Yuffie grinned, and spun – still attached to his arm, so thet wasn't very easy for him – and leaped in her victory dance, before dragging him off the way. Vincent was getting rather accustomed to getting dragged along by Yuffie, to his mild disgust.
In any case, he was still vaguely confused about how Yuffie had scared of the crowd; but hid it and continued to ponder on it as they walked on. What had all of that been about . . .
"Hey look!" Yuffie directed his ill spent attention to the left. Acrobats were performing on the street side, surrounded by a growing swarm of watchers.
Yuffie felt the need to prance about him like a puppy prancing about his ankles, whining in a similar fashion. "I can't seeee . . ."
Vincent sniffed and passed an eye over the heads of the crowd, and despite the fact that the fraudulent show was well presented; he saw no need to watch it. He turned his head back down to his charge . . . to see her looking at him quite strangely.
That make Vincent feel slightly awkward. "What," he snapped curtly, "are you looking at?"
"Ya know," Yuffie said speculatively, "you're kinda tall . . . I bet you can see over there perfect." She began to circle him slowly. Vincent stiffened. What was the girl thinking?
He felt a slight prickling on the back of his neck, the kind he got in battle when attacked from behind. He cursed his intuition, and remained still; he was not going to be attacked in the middle of this ridiculous affair called a carnival . . .
Or so Vincent thought, until a hundred and seven pounds of ninja latched onto the back of his cloak, practically choking him. He stumbled back one step before regaining his balance, and suppressed the instincts telling him to whirl about and throw his latest passenger into the dirt.
He really did try his best to pretend that the entanglement of limbs crawling up his back wasn't there. Yanking his cloak forward to counter the backwards pull of Yuffie, he found her weight had shifted entirely onto his shoulders, and that orange sneakers were dangling on either side of his neck.
Yuffie was sitting on his shoulders . . . Vincent blinked at the mere improbability of a supposedly mature fighter sucking on a lollipop, perched on his back and clinging, unperturbed, to his hairband.
He kept his arms firmly by his sides, concentrating on keeping his balance as the weight on top of him shifted randomly from left to right. What was the girl thinking; he wasn't some proud father dragging his child to the circus! He clenched his hands, or his hand and his claw, into fists.
"Yuffie . . ." he gritted out slowly, congratulating himself on his control, "Get. Off. Me. NOW."
"Wow, Yuffie, instead of 'Miss Kisaragi?' Besides, don't be stupid!" The girl practically shouted in his ear, and once more she shifted dramatically to the right. Unwilling to be dragged to the dirt with her should she fall – certainly not out of concern for Yuffie's welfare! – he found his hand wrapped firmly around her ankle for her support. While the contact irked him, it did make it easier to balance.
Contact. . . hah, he'd had more human contact today then he'd ever had in the past forty years.
She didn't notice this, of course, and Yuffie blabbed on. "You're strong enough to carry me, and the view up here is so cool!" She pumped her fist in the air. "Hey, wow, didja see what that guy just did?!"
Vincent, in fact, hadn't, because his instincts once more were telling him to leave, and fast. Something was about to happen.
"Hey, hey, Vinnie! Are you listening to me?"
Vincent froze. What had she just called him? "Don't call me that again," he said gruffly.
"Call you what?" She asked obliviously, and Vincent felt his annoyance warp slightly; was that girl playing with his hair?
"That . . ." Vincent couldn't bring himself to say it. "That horrid name you just addressed me by."
"OH," Yuffie giggled. "You mean VINNIE?"
"Yes." He said jadedly. "That."
"Don't be stupid," Yuffie tapped him almost affectionately, what was it with this woman and bodily contact? "It's cute."
That caused Vincent to bristle even more. What was she thinking? He was a monster, a plague upon man, a sinner beyond redemption, a killer, not to mention an ex-Turk to boot. None of those added up to 'cute,' he was not cute. This was one opinion better expressed aloud.
"I am not cute." He stated coldly.
Yuffie wavered on his shoulders. "Sure ya are!" She leaned over him, inspecting his face with a critical eye that made him feel less than comfortable. "In fact, you could be pretty damn hot if you just let me fix up your – "
"No." Vincent had no desire to be anywhere near the ninja once this whole fiasco was over with, and certainly wouldn't feel obligated to listen to any of her opinions.
". . . Please?"
"No." Vincent congratulated himself on getting his voice to reach a new level in monotonous flatness.
What? She wasn't talking? Silence . . . nothing but the incongruous babble of the crowd, no screeching in his ear, no off color comments on passers- by, no noise from his temporary burden.
For a total of twenty five seconds.
". . . You're still cute. . . ." Yuffie pouted.
"I most certainly am not," Vincent cut in sharply before she could branch off into that subject again.
"Are too."
Vincent frowned, at both her comment and the prickling in his spine. His instincts were trying to tell him something . . . but what . . .
"Vincent? And, uh . . . Yuffie?"
. . . Ah. Cloud.
Vincent swore mentally; this was exactly what his instincts had been trying to warn him about. Of all the places for AVALANCHE to find him, in the middle of a childish argument with Yuffie on his back – literally.
He turned his face to the right where Cloud was staring at him blatantly, or to be more accurate, staring at him and his passenger. Tifa was trailing Cloud, of course, and stared as well, though less obviously.
"Miss Lockheart, Cloud." He stated gravely, nodding acknowledgement at them before turning away. Being an ex-SOLDIER, Cloud could recognize that for what it was: a dismissal.
"HEY CLOUD!" Vincent flinched as Yuffie yelled in his ear. "Hey, tell this guy that the name 'Vinnie' is cute, cuz I can't get it through his thick skull." To emphasize her point, Yuffie rapped her knuckles rhythmically on Vincent's head. Vincent flinched at each minor blow, not from the nonexistent pain, but from the sheer agony of injuries his pride was taking.
He glowered, wishing he could glare at her, but his current position wouldn't allow that. Cloud was looking slightly puzzled, and Tifa was flushing, politely trying not to giggle at Vincent's obvious discomfort.
". . . so then," Yuffie was talking still. "So then Vinnie went berserk on the ticket guy, which was cool, and then . . ."
Really, the ninja was overdoing it to the point of being in bodily danger. Danger from him, to be clearer; Vincent could practically feel his pride taking the blows. Cloud, at least, seemed to notice the waves of I'm-pissed- so-don't-mess-with-me he was most likely emitting, and stepped back, dragging Tifa with him.
Yuffie was oblivious, of course. ". . . and then he totally ripped up the midway cuz he used his big ass gun, and . . ."
Vincent clenched his free fist in a futile effort to quench his temper. She was grating on him purposely, wasn't she? No one could possibly be this irritating by sheer coincidence, not could it be an unhappy accident. In fact, if he heard that abomination of a nickname one more time, he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions. . .
Yuffie was still babbling. ". . . and VINNIE, I mean – "
. . .Vincent snapped.
In one fluid movement, he reached up and grabbed both of her wrists in his claw. Giving little notice, his other hand snaked up around her back and yanked her roughly over his shoulder. She managed to land on her feet, albeit heavily, for which Vincent gave her credit, but that didn't stop him from yanking her face closer to his own, forcing her to stare him in the eye.
"My name . . . is Vincent," he breathed heavily, not knowing why he was so out of breath. "Not Vinnie, nor Vince . . . nor any other gross parody of a namesake you could possibly imagine," He hissed slowly, not caring what bystanders thought of the situation. "Now, for God's sake and your own, ADDRESS ME PROPERLY."
Vincent felt the strange sadistic pleasure again as he watched the play of emotions cross Yuffie's face. "Eh . . . heh heh . . ." She gulped loudly, trying to writhe away. Vincent tightened his claw's grip, to her obvious and slow coming shock.
"Eh . . . gaaah . . . ahhh . . .AHHHHH!" Yuffie finally saw that she was caught, and as a result, shrieked loudly, causing the crowd to step away from them hurriedly. Tifa stepped back with them, and Cloud shifted awkwardly.
"YAAAGH! Cloud, HELP! Vincent, lemme go, don't kill me, ACK! Umph!" She began grunting as she yanked at her wrists captivity. Vincent raised an eyebrow; so she got the name right AFTER being bodily threatened, he'd have to remember that.
"Lemme goooooo . . . he's gonna kill me and suck me dryyy . . ." Vincent did a double take at that. What? 'Suck her dry?' That sounded vaguely disturbing, and he wasn't even able to begin to form a mental image on that one.
"What does she mean by that?" Cloud asked incredulously, his expression no less puzzled and questioning than Tifa's.
"I have no idea," Vincent replied honestly, frowning at his now unwilling charge. She was still trying to wrench herself away; unaware of the fact that if Vincent so wished, her metacarpals*** would be ground to dust in three seconds flat.
Yuffie saw him looking at her with obvious disinterest, and glared. "You ticked me off now, I'm gonna tell!"
Vincent tilted his head back slightly in betrayal of his jolt of apprehension. How unprofessional, turn traitor on a deal? Would she really? "Yuffie," he warned, "I thought we had an agreement."
"Agreements null an' void if I'm dead!" wailed the girl. There was a point, there. She rattled on. "Tifa, he was gonna get Tifa . . ."
Well, that blatant lie certainly got their attention. Vincent watched with an alarming interest as Cloud seemed to swell slightly in size. While he knew he could very well best Cloud in a full out brawl, the blond being here without a weapon and Vincent's speed being considerably higher, Tifa was there as well. Together, the odds were against the gunman.
Not to mention the fact that once Yuffie figured that out as well, she'd join in; and her skills with her shuriken were nothing to sneeze at either. If, of course, Vincent had actually had the slightest inclination to sneeze in the first place.
However, Yuffie's seemingly inability to keep her mouth shut was his savior, no doubt about that. She railed on, with absolutely no regard for her dignity. . . so much for Wutainese pride. "He - he was in your room, an' . . . an' he was gonna suck out all your blood and you'd diiiie . . ."
He looked down at the obviously frightened ninja. Was that honestly what the girl had thought? He gave an exasperated sigh. He supposed that sleeping in a coffin for thirty-odd years and looking just as young as when he'd entered might have something to do with her theory. . .
If it wasn't so childish, Vincent might have rolled his eyes.
Unable to keep the annoyed look off his face, he dragged Yuffie back into full view. "I'm afraid not," he said distastefully. "I'm hardly vampiric."
Tifa looked slightly less appalled; Yuffie's ridiculous story had eased her mind, but she was certainly still suspicious. Yes, well, Vincent reflected, he did look a tad shady. And dark. Not to mention brooding, and as Barret had so delicately put it, "$%^*! scary."
However, Tifa wasn't the real problem to deal with at the moment; Cloud was looking absolutely livid. Vincent thanked whoever was listening that Cloud's overly sized sword was not within reach. "You were in," the blond growled, "her ROOM?"
Yes, Vincent brooded. That simple task of looking to borrow a hairbrush had seemed to positively rain misfortune on his head. He had yet to truly gain Cloud's trust, and he was fairly certain that the way to do that did NOT involve sneaking into his girlfriend's room in the wee hours of the morning.
"He does have a point," Tifa pointed out speculatively.
"And while I apologize for that," Vincent said through gritted teeth, "you are all jumping to conclusions." Yuffie's struggles doubled, if at all possible.
"Miss Lockhart," Vincent said calmly, his golden claw keeping a firm grip on the ninja writhing in her attempt to escape. "Quite honestly, I was looking for a hairbrush."
The girl whose wrist he held captive stopped struggling almost immediately. Yuffie gulped, and a small alarm started ringing in Vincent's ears. "Seriously?" she asked in a muffled squeak.
"Yes." He said sharply, staring down at her again. "Mine went . . . missing."
She hunched her shoulders slightly, stepping back a pace. ". . .Oops. . ."
Vincent decided that Yuffie saying 'oops' was a bad omen of sorts, and glared incriminatingly at her. She gulped, and put on quite the show of being sheepish, dragging her sneaker toe through the dirt and nodding her head slowly.
"I uh . . ." The girl had better be grateful he was listening, she was speaking so softly he wouldn't have noticed it otherwise. "I kinda . . . stole it."
"What?!" Vincent had half a mind to crush her wrist that instant. This entire . . . fiasco, for lack of a better word, was completely, utterly, and entirely her fault?! Not that he hadn't thought so before, but this merely clinched the thing! Had she really had the audacity to go through his things, his personal belongings? Had she no SHAME?
Realizing his temper was spiraling only because of his beast's encouragement – and letting the Galian Beast loose upon the crowd would be a mistake indeed – he shoved down his anger as rapidly as he could. Vincent took a deep breath, and found that Cloud had tensed up considerably, most likely because Vincent's hand had strayed dangerously near his gun. As if his gun with the most dangerous thing on him. . .
He narrowed his gaze, and slowly inched his hand away from his gun. Really, that was a reflex he'd have to work harder on controlling. . . No, Vincent would not bring himself down to actually shooting the petulant thief, but instead leaned forward and dragged her nose to nose with him. "Why?" he hissed.
"I . . ." Yuffie gulped, and blurted out loudly, "I wanted to see how you looked with bedhead!"
Vincent tightened his grip oh-so-slightly on Yuffie's wrist . . .
Cloud winced slightly at the apparent fate of the aspiring ninja, and held up Tifa as she struggled to stay standing in her throes of laughter.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
My other story, 'If My Heart Weren't Broken', is giving me crap, so to help me keep my sanity I began writing short bits from Final Fantasy VII between chapters. This was the first, written under serious caffeine-induced creativity, watching the first episode of GetBackers and waiting for ep. 2 to download, and the aftershocks of being forced to write a horny Laguna.
This is only being posted for irony's sake; it's not something I'd brag about. I, being an extremely introverted person, tend to concentrate more on thoughts then actions . . . eh.
*clip – a clip is a regular handgun 'refill,' (put simply, I won't get detailed) averagely consisting of six bullets.
**I have nothing against homosexuality. I even sometimes indulge in a yaoi fangirl squeal, so don't take this the wrong way, kiddies.
*** metacarpals – learned this in biology the other day; it's the bones in your wrist
Vincent suppressed an irritable sigh as he stopped sifting through his bag in hopelessness. Honestly. How on earth had he managed to forget such a simple item as a hairbrush?
He hadn't intended on keeping the long hair once he realized exactly how long it had grown; it got in his eyes occasionally and was too much of a hassle. However, he had kept putting off getting it cut due to the dozens of false Sephiroths thrown in their path, and had finally resigned himself to keeping it.
In which case, it needed to be kept tamed. Which, of course, required a hairbrush. Which led to his current dilemma; he had apparently left his hairbrush in their last port. A careless mistake.
A rather loud thump on the wall to his right caused his hand to jump to his gun holster. And remembered that the very same thumps had been going on all night . . . and that the room they were being issued from belonged to Yuffie Kisaragi.
He scowled. The girl grated continually on his nerves, with her unceasing chatter and habit of making an infernal racket, and wasn't content merely avoiding him like everybody else. Oh, no, she had to leap about him, making loud comments about his claw, drawing even more attention to him then it already did.
She apparently thought it was 'neato' and 'booya' and thousands of other nonsensical words he'd not bothered to file in his brain. He sighed. On top of that, with her short hair, she probably didn't have a hairbrush he could borrow. While Cloud might have a brush, it was most likely so encrusted with dried hair gel it was unusable, so that left Miss Gainsborough, who had nothing to her name but the clothes on her back, and Miss Lockheart. Miss Lockheart it was.
Vincent looked up. He'd rather not refer to Tifa by her first name unless completely necessary; she was the kind of woman who deserved respect but rarely got it. Keeping that in mind, he flattened his mane in temporarily suitable fashion, swung on his cape and stalked down the hall to where he presumed her room was.
Trying to keep the awkwardness at knocking on a lady's door at a reasonable level, he rapped the door smartly. "Miss Lockheart?"
Nothing. He tried again, knocking a bit more deliberately. "Miss Lockheart, I would like to speak with you."
Frowning, Vincent's let his fingers linger on the doorknob a moment. He'd heard her talking with Barret in the halls a few minutes ago; she shouldn't be asleep. He turned the knob slowly, and pushed it in cautiously.
It was dark, and empty. It appeared that Tifa had left some time ago, but was planning on returning, as her things were still strewn about in the room. Vincent shrugged, and eyed her dresser. Apparently, she didn't see much need for femininities, and her beauty habits had just the bare essentials.
Which, fortunately for him, included a hairbrush. He had to bend slightly to see into the mirror, but once he had managed to get his tangles into reasonable shape, Vincent left, intent on heading back to his room and packing. What Miss Lockhart didn't know wouldn't hurt her, not that the use of a hairbrush was threatening in any way.
He stepped quietly back into the dimly lit hall, and pulled the door silently shut behind him, waiting for the distinct click before
Of course. The annoying, brattish ninja just had to have seen him. Stifling the look of disgust his face wanted to conjure, he kept his composure blissfully blank and bowed courteously. "Excuse me, if you were searching for Miss Lockhart, she isn't in her room."
Hopefully, the ninja was professional enough to get the signs. From the Shin-Ra Turks to the Midgar SOLDIER to the Wutainese ninjas, all forms of the elite had a loose code for things like this – 'We'll pretend it didn't happen, and I'll do the same for you when you need it.' He continued down the hall.
"I'm gonna tell everyone you were in Tifa's room." Yuffie's voice forced Vincent to freeze and to suppress a wince. And she called herself a ninja . . . weren't they supposed to be stealthy, NOT excruciatingly obvious?
Vincent was fully aware of the implications of his being in Tifa's room, and in fact, once Yuffies bounced around shouting at the top of her lungs that it was so; his rather limp excuse of searching for a hairbrush simply wouldn't stand up, no matter how truthful it was.
"And?" He couldn't summon the will to keep the resigned irritation out of his tone. Vincent supposed he'd have to retreat and follow the group at a distance from now on. He did need to speak with Sephiroth, and no doubt they'd eventually have to readmit him due to one or two of the members getting killed from this girl's foolishness alone.
"And what?" Yuffie piped. Vincent turned his head to the side, and glared at her from the corner of his eye. Was the girl really that infernally clueless?
"And what must I do to help you forget that unimportant piece of information?" Vincent prayed silently that she was negotiable. Despite her cleverness in battle, her wits outside of combat were applied in all the wrong places.
The girl bounded up next to him and yanked on his cape, and he twitched in annoyance. There she went again, with the touching. He didn't enjoy touching.
"But . . . but that's blackmail!" She said gleefully. "On my part, too!" She seemed extraordinarily cheerful at the prospect of breaking yet another law. Vincent turned to face her head on; was she just out to fulfill her life goal of breaking every law known to man?
Vincent enunciated clearly and slowly for her benefit. "I prefer to call it bribery, Miss Kisaragi."
At which point Yuffie blinked at his, and started to giggle inanely. Vincent shifted. He was used to being the target of ridicule, but this . . . though he couldn't label why, this wasn't quite what he was used to. "What is so amusing?"
"Gawd! 'Miss Kisaragi'?" She fell ungracefully to the side, landing against the wall with a far too loud thump. "You can even make breaking the law sound like, I dunno . . ."
"A matter of grave importance?" Vincent offered, eager to finish this conversation and get on with his packing.
"Yeah, what you said." She yawned, stretching in as loud and obvious way as possible before righting herself. Vincent stepped back as she swayed; if she was going to fall over, he was most certainly not going to catch her.
Although he would have taken a sinful sort of satisfaction from seeing her crash inelegantly to the ground, she managed to stay on her feet. Vincent made a mental note to himself to find out exactly why this girl, of all people, brought out his sadist tendencies.
"Anyhoo, about that bribe thing . . ." Of course, she says it like there was a different topic to begin with. Vincent was getting tired of dealing with the obnoxious ninja child, and would be extremely grateful when he could remove himself from her grating presence.
The girl was also making a great deal of show of thinking, putting her hand to her temple and tapping her foot incessantly. After which, she snapped her fingers and grinned wildly up at him. This also disconcerted Vincent; he wasn't used to being smiled at. Turks weren't big at smiling.
"You," she proclaimed loudly, "are taking me to the carnival!"
Vincent blinked. Why on God's good earth would she want him to take her to so childish and stupid thing as a carnival? "I was thinking more of a monetary amount."
"Money's great and all that," Yuffie admitted, "but there's a problem . . ." she hesitated. Vincent just stared at her. She gulped. Aha, Vincent shook his head. It seemed he scared her, as he scared pretty much everyone below the age of 18,. Of course, Vincent thought ruefully, he scared quite a few above the age of 18, as well . . .
"See, uh . . . I went earlier, and there was this uh . . ." Yuffie swallowed, thinking. "Mistake! Yeah, there was this mistake, and I got kicked out until I could find supervision." She nodded rapidly.
Vincent suppressed yet another sigh. In other words, she had decided to pickpocket someone, gotten caught, and promptly been thrown out . . . which left him playing granddaddy to the ninja until she decided she wanted to leave. The role would be close enough to bodyguard that it wouldn't be too unfamiliar, but he realized he'd probably end up paying for everything.
"So, I provide this . . . supervision, and the tickets, and in return you provide your silence in this matter?" Vincent questioned gravely.
"Yup!" Yuffie stuck out her hand, to shake on it. Her left hand, to be exact. Vincent narrowed his eyes at it, and instinctively dragged his claw behind his cloak. Really, she didn't actually want physical contact with it, did she?
The ninja blinked a few times at his reluctance, and looked annoyed for a moment. "Oh gawd, don't be so stupid." She grabbed at his metallic wrist, and although Vincent couldn't actually feel it, the knowledge that she was forcing him to shake her hand was very strange indeed. He shoved that thought back to brood on later.
Damned clever girl. He withdrew his claw with a scowl. "I need a few moments to pack," he said flatly, and cursed his ill fortune as he headed towards his room.
He shut the door quietly – he found it necessary to do everything as quietly as possible – and fumed. What he was being forced into was NOT his idea of constructive. His time would be better spent training in the nearby forests, or perhaps tracking the latest 'man in the black cape' sighting.
Unfortunately, though, he was being forced to play baby sitter. Showing an extraordinary lapse in order, he grabbed his things and crammed them haphazardly into his small bag as rapidly as possible. Quite the far cry from his usual, meticulous folding method.
In a detached sort of way, he was shocked that he didn't break the zipper when he finished. Vincent found no need to hide his feelings on the matter, so long as he was in solitude. "I do not want to do this . . ." he muttered.
"What? You, whining? Holy crap, what's next, the Ragnorak?" Vincent didn't bother spinning around; Yuffie had obviously come in without knocking. Cursing his bad luck, he followed Yuffie out and to the street, listening halfheartedly to her rambles.
"Ya know, you walk really cool," Yuffie chattered as they headed in what Vincent assumed was the general direction of the fairgrounds. "Can't really call it walking, you kinda . . . I dunno, float. You'd think those metal things would make a lot of noise, but you could prolly sneak up on someone really good, couldn't you?"
Vincent decided it was best not to dignify her chatter with a response as Yuffie looked up at him. "Heh, and being so pointy, they'd really hurt if ya gave someone a good kick in the arse, eh?"
"I don't think you want to find out, Miss Kisaragi," Vincent ground out. It wasn't as though he had chosen his clothes for fashion, they were all extremely serviceable and had good durability, and had stood the test of thirty years of time.
Yuffie didn't notice his warning tone, nor did she catch the thinly veiled threat. Or, perhaps she had caught the threat, and had actually shown enough sense to ignore it. Vincent suppressed his shrug.
As Yuffie skipped and chattered and generally tried to make 'conversation' with him, Vincent brooded. He was very good at brooding, it was a talent he had gained through much practice; although the current topic was an interesting, if annoying, change of pace.
Yuffie Kisaragi was a bit more than she seemed. Her eyes were strangely familiar. While she wasn't bothering to hide her Wutainese heritage, she was trying to conceal certain things. . . like when Cloud had asked her about the symbols on her head scarf, she had cleverly changed the topic – by way of spilling her drink on RedXIII.
Vincent frowned. He doubted she knew that his own heritage allowed him to know the Wutainese Royal crest and colors when he saw it, not to mention notice her illogical reverence for summons. While she might very well have stolen the scarf . . . no, the Wutainese almost worshipped their royalty.
He felt slightly disgusted. While he could no longer lay claim to his family ties in Wutai, it irked him that the annoying twit prancing beside him was the heir to his home country's throne. How the mighty had fallen; before his sleep, Wutai had been very prosperous.
"OY! HELLLOOO!" Vincent blinked as a hand was waved in front of him.
"What?" He snapped.
"The tickets!" Yuffie pointed at the booth in front of them. Vincent cursed his momentary lapse of watchfulness; then again, it took a great deal of concentration to ignore Yuffie. It wasn't entirely his fault.
"Two tickets." He told the scrawny youth in the box offhandly, reaching into his cape for the money.
The boy sniffled disgustingly across his sleeve, and Vincent wrinkled his nose in distaste. "She ain't comin' back in," he drawled high-handedly, "she was – "
Vincent narrowed his eyes. He really wasn't in a good mood; he refused to deal with this. He straightened, squaring his shjoulders slightly, and gave his best glare. The youth's eyes widened considerably. "I. SAID. TWO. TICKETS," Vincent hissed.
The youth didn't move. Vincent scowled even more; what did he have to do to get these children to listen? Plus that familiar, nagging tugging on his sleeve . . .
Ah. Of course it was familiar, it was Yuffie. Vincent blinked to clear his head as Yuffie looked up at him beseechingly. Well, never let it be said that Yuffie couldn't turn up the innocence.
"HEY!" She tugged again, looking convincingly worried. "Hey, tone down your scariness, will ya? The guys about to crap his pants!"
He queeled his anger, tracing the unnecessary aggravation to his inner beast. He shook his head to clear it once more. "On the contrary," muttered Vincent as he gave the trembling ticket receiver a once over; he actually looked rather constipated, but he kept that particular comment to himself and wondered how exactly one toned down one's scariness.
He assumed Yuffie managed to get the tickets, because he stalked past the booth and no one tried to stop him, Yuffie at his heels moments later.
Well, the mission goal was to get this over with as fast as humanely possible, if it was possible at all for him to do something humanely. "Where do you wish to go first?" He asked brusquely.
"The midway!" She squealed. Vincent schooled his face to be as blank as possible, Turk instincts telling him not to betray that he had no idea what a midway was. Perhaps a ride of some sort . . .
"Lead on," he said gravely. Yuffie grinned at him, and he stared dispassionately back. Her grin didn't fade, but she turned away, skipping through the crowd. Vincent followed at a short distance, the people parting before him to avoid his brooding glare.
Vincent eyed the booths appearing to his right. Games. The midway was games, although why anyone would want to perform such humiliating tasks for an overly sized bright pink plushy, the concept was beyond him.
Yuffie appeared in front of him once more, taking hold of his cape and tugging him. "Hey, look! You could do that!"
Vincent inspected the brightly lit tent with overly sized bulls eyes decorating the sides, over a hundred feet away. "What am I supposed to do?"
She froze in her tracks, and looked up at him in shock. "What? Haven't you played a carnival game afore?" Her eyes widened slightly. "HEY, have you even BEEN to a fair before now?"
Well, the truth was not a lie . . . "No."
"Oh . . . wow . . . well then . . ." Yuffie glanced at him as if he'd done something horrendously taboo. "Well . . . see, in that game, you just gotta shoot the bulls eye three times outta five, and you get a prize. . ." she trailed off.
That seemed simple enough. Vincent did exactly that.
BANG BANG BANG. His revolver made a nice neat hole in the center of the cardboard, although his third shot had been a little off, but the bulls eye was so huge it would have taken an infant to miss it.
He turned to Yuffie. "Well?"
"You . . . uh, aren't supposed to use a real gun . . . and uh . . . were those real bullets?"
What an ignorant question. He cocked an eyebrow down at her. "They wouldn't be very useful if they weren't."
"Um . . ." Yuffie looked around nervously, and Vincent noticed the majority of small children around him beginning to wail. "I'm pretty sure real ammo's not allowed either . . ." She whispered hurriedly. "And you gotta pay before you can play. . ."
Pay? In order to do a task that simple, from less than forty yards? And for what, an oversized and particularly unattractive stuffed mog . . . well, who was he to judge this form of . . . dare he say, 'entertainment.'
"Hmm," He let out, to show the now extremely anxious ninja he was listening. "And I don't think gunfire in public is a good idea either," she hissed, before looking behind her. She let out a 'meep' and grabbed his wrist, yanking him behind another tent. He grunted as a security personnel dashed by, reporting 'a lunatic shooting at some poor kids.'
Vincent scowled. Him, target an innocent? It was an insult. Really, had he really just wasted half a clip on that?*
He sighed, and peered at the ninja hiding next to him. "I don't think we should stay here for much longer, Miss Kisaragi."
"No . . . uh. . . how about the vendors . . ." Yuffie slunk off to the right, and Vincent followed. Exercising stealth actually was a wise choice to him; he had no desire to be noticed in such a ridiculous setting.
He coughed. The air was getting fouler by the second . . . what was that stench? If he warped his senses enough, it could almost be interpreted as the smell of . . .
"Food!" Yuffie screeched, causing Vincent to lift his eyes in a plea to the heavens. God, I have done many horrors in my life . . . is this my divine punishment? It is far, far worse than the fires I had feared . . . he followed her back in to crowd.
Yuffie grinned up at him. "Look; hey Vinnie, can I have one?" She pointed exuberantly at a Lollipop stand. Vincent twitched. How humiliating. He refused to go near the disgusting thing. He fished in his cape for a moment, withdrawing a ten gil coin. He flipped it to her expertly, and she snatched it out of the air.
"Cool! Be right back!" Yuffie scampered towards it, leaving Vincent standing rather awkwardly in the center of the moving crowds. He peered around his surroundings cautiously, before sidestepping so his back was against a tent. He leaned back slightly, and inspected his claw.
It needed oiling, actually. While it was hard to fire a gun properly with it, he had often found it necessary to switch hands in battle. However, it was in terrible working condition when he had first awoken; when he had found Barret's tools, it had been a gift from God. In fact, he –
A burst of giggling to his side distracted his thoughts. Without turning his head, he narrowed his eyes, and tried to focus on his peripheral vision. It didn't work very well, he ended up trying to act casual and scanned the crowd, to find the culprits.
He quickly stiffened and stared intensely at his shoes. Of course. The girls, not much older than Yuffie by their looks and – was it possible? – even more scantily clad, were pointing and laughing at him almost blatantly, so thinly veiled were their stares. He was used to such taunting . . . but his mind vaguely hoped Yuffie didn't end up like them.
Vincent hid a wince. Not . . . not that he cared of course! It was a rather vague thought, to begin with. Of course, he would never care about Yuffies opinion of him. Ever . . .
In an effort to get them to stop their gratuitous amusement at his expense, he shot his head up and glared at them. They remained undaunted, and nearly collapsed upon eachother in their latest fit of giggles. No doubt a good look at his eyes had set them off . . .
Vincent gave up.
Yuffie bumped into him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her. She licked her newly acquired candy childishly before popping it into her mouth, looking up at him, and frowning. "Hey, you look a bit more angsty than usual. What's up?"
He scowled; what business was it of hers? However, technically this was his half of a deal, and thus she was, in a sense, his client. He hid his disapproval of the question with a curt answer, and a swift nod at the giggling crowd to his left. "I do not enjoy being stared at."
Yuffie took one swift look at them, and gave him a cock-eyed look. "What, are you gay** or something?"
Vincent gaped. What? "I should think not," he said almost disgustedly. "Where did that question come from?" he demanded. "If they were laughing at you, no doubt you wouldn't like it, either, Miss Kisaragi." Although now that he mentioned it, they were already beginning to shoot Yuffie dirty looks. . .
Yuffie looked at the gaggling crowd, and back at his tilted head, then back to the group. And then, back to his face. She shook her head almost disgustedly. "You really that clueless?"
He bristled automatically. What, was every female on the planet against him? "I should – "
She cut him off shortly. "Don't dig yourself deeper, bud. Here, I can get rid of them if you want."
He had no idea how she would do so, but he supposed even an unsuccessful effort couldn't hurt. "Fine."
Blinking cautiously as she wound her arm around his, he watched as the girls' expressions grew uglier by the second. Well, at least their attention seemed to be focused more on Yuffie than him. Yuffie winked at him quite obviously, and Vincent wondered exactly how this solved the predicament.
Yuffie swiveled suddenly on her heel, almost making him stumble as she glared directly at the group. Vincent had no idea her glaring abilities were as good as they were; perhaps with training, she might be able to rival him. Might.
And he was almost appalled at the string of curses he began to yell at them, consisting mostly of taunts involving their dubious parentage and sleeping habits. Key word being, of course, almost; he held no sympathy as they glared back shortly and, to his astonishment, walked off.
Yuffie grinned, and spun – still attached to his arm, so thet wasn't very easy for him – and leaped in her victory dance, before dragging him off the way. Vincent was getting rather accustomed to getting dragged along by Yuffie, to his mild disgust.
In any case, he was still vaguely confused about how Yuffie had scared of the crowd; but hid it and continued to ponder on it as they walked on. What had all of that been about . . .
"Hey look!" Yuffie directed his ill spent attention to the left. Acrobats were performing on the street side, surrounded by a growing swarm of watchers.
Yuffie felt the need to prance about him like a puppy prancing about his ankles, whining in a similar fashion. "I can't seeee . . ."
Vincent sniffed and passed an eye over the heads of the crowd, and despite the fact that the fraudulent show was well presented; he saw no need to watch it. He turned his head back down to his charge . . . to see her looking at him quite strangely.
That make Vincent feel slightly awkward. "What," he snapped curtly, "are you looking at?"
"Ya know," Yuffie said speculatively, "you're kinda tall . . . I bet you can see over there perfect." She began to circle him slowly. Vincent stiffened. What was the girl thinking?
He felt a slight prickling on the back of his neck, the kind he got in battle when attacked from behind. He cursed his intuition, and remained still; he was not going to be attacked in the middle of this ridiculous affair called a carnival . . .
Or so Vincent thought, until a hundred and seven pounds of ninja latched onto the back of his cloak, practically choking him. He stumbled back one step before regaining his balance, and suppressed the instincts telling him to whirl about and throw his latest passenger into the dirt.
He really did try his best to pretend that the entanglement of limbs crawling up his back wasn't there. Yanking his cloak forward to counter the backwards pull of Yuffie, he found her weight had shifted entirely onto his shoulders, and that orange sneakers were dangling on either side of his neck.
Yuffie was sitting on his shoulders . . . Vincent blinked at the mere improbability of a supposedly mature fighter sucking on a lollipop, perched on his back and clinging, unperturbed, to his hairband.
He kept his arms firmly by his sides, concentrating on keeping his balance as the weight on top of him shifted randomly from left to right. What was the girl thinking; he wasn't some proud father dragging his child to the circus! He clenched his hands, or his hand and his claw, into fists.
"Yuffie . . ." he gritted out slowly, congratulating himself on his control, "Get. Off. Me. NOW."
"Wow, Yuffie, instead of 'Miss Kisaragi?' Besides, don't be stupid!" The girl practically shouted in his ear, and once more she shifted dramatically to the right. Unwilling to be dragged to the dirt with her should she fall – certainly not out of concern for Yuffie's welfare! – he found his hand wrapped firmly around her ankle for her support. While the contact irked him, it did make it easier to balance.
Contact. . . hah, he'd had more human contact today then he'd ever had in the past forty years.
She didn't notice this, of course, and Yuffie blabbed on. "You're strong enough to carry me, and the view up here is so cool!" She pumped her fist in the air. "Hey, wow, didja see what that guy just did?!"
Vincent, in fact, hadn't, because his instincts once more were telling him to leave, and fast. Something was about to happen.
"Hey, hey, Vinnie! Are you listening to me?"
Vincent froze. What had she just called him? "Don't call me that again," he said gruffly.
"Call you what?" She asked obliviously, and Vincent felt his annoyance warp slightly; was that girl playing with his hair?
"That . . ." Vincent couldn't bring himself to say it. "That horrid name you just addressed me by."
"OH," Yuffie giggled. "You mean VINNIE?"
"Yes." He said jadedly. "That."
"Don't be stupid," Yuffie tapped him almost affectionately, what was it with this woman and bodily contact? "It's cute."
That caused Vincent to bristle even more. What was she thinking? He was a monster, a plague upon man, a sinner beyond redemption, a killer, not to mention an ex-Turk to boot. None of those added up to 'cute,' he was not cute. This was one opinion better expressed aloud.
"I am not cute." He stated coldly.
Yuffie wavered on his shoulders. "Sure ya are!" She leaned over him, inspecting his face with a critical eye that made him feel less than comfortable. "In fact, you could be pretty damn hot if you just let me fix up your – "
"No." Vincent had no desire to be anywhere near the ninja once this whole fiasco was over with, and certainly wouldn't feel obligated to listen to any of her opinions.
". . . Please?"
"No." Vincent congratulated himself on getting his voice to reach a new level in monotonous flatness.
What? She wasn't talking? Silence . . . nothing but the incongruous babble of the crowd, no screeching in his ear, no off color comments on passers- by, no noise from his temporary burden.
For a total of twenty five seconds.
". . . You're still cute. . . ." Yuffie pouted.
"I most certainly am not," Vincent cut in sharply before she could branch off into that subject again.
"Are too."
Vincent frowned, at both her comment and the prickling in his spine. His instincts were trying to tell him something . . . but what . . .
"Vincent? And, uh . . . Yuffie?"
. . . Ah. Cloud.
Vincent swore mentally; this was exactly what his instincts had been trying to warn him about. Of all the places for AVALANCHE to find him, in the middle of a childish argument with Yuffie on his back – literally.
He turned his face to the right where Cloud was staring at him blatantly, or to be more accurate, staring at him and his passenger. Tifa was trailing Cloud, of course, and stared as well, though less obviously.
"Miss Lockheart, Cloud." He stated gravely, nodding acknowledgement at them before turning away. Being an ex-SOLDIER, Cloud could recognize that for what it was: a dismissal.
"HEY CLOUD!" Vincent flinched as Yuffie yelled in his ear. "Hey, tell this guy that the name 'Vinnie' is cute, cuz I can't get it through his thick skull." To emphasize her point, Yuffie rapped her knuckles rhythmically on Vincent's head. Vincent flinched at each minor blow, not from the nonexistent pain, but from the sheer agony of injuries his pride was taking.
He glowered, wishing he could glare at her, but his current position wouldn't allow that. Cloud was looking slightly puzzled, and Tifa was flushing, politely trying not to giggle at Vincent's obvious discomfort.
". . . so then," Yuffie was talking still. "So then Vinnie went berserk on the ticket guy, which was cool, and then . . ."
Really, the ninja was overdoing it to the point of being in bodily danger. Danger from him, to be clearer; Vincent could practically feel his pride taking the blows. Cloud, at least, seemed to notice the waves of I'm-pissed- so-don't-mess-with-me he was most likely emitting, and stepped back, dragging Tifa with him.
Yuffie was oblivious, of course. ". . . and then he totally ripped up the midway cuz he used his big ass gun, and . . ."
Vincent clenched his free fist in a futile effort to quench his temper. She was grating on him purposely, wasn't she? No one could possibly be this irritating by sheer coincidence, not could it be an unhappy accident. In fact, if he heard that abomination of a nickname one more time, he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions. . .
Yuffie was still babbling. ". . . and VINNIE, I mean – "
. . .Vincent snapped.
In one fluid movement, he reached up and grabbed both of her wrists in his claw. Giving little notice, his other hand snaked up around her back and yanked her roughly over his shoulder. She managed to land on her feet, albeit heavily, for which Vincent gave her credit, but that didn't stop him from yanking her face closer to his own, forcing her to stare him in the eye.
"My name . . . is Vincent," he breathed heavily, not knowing why he was so out of breath. "Not Vinnie, nor Vince . . . nor any other gross parody of a namesake you could possibly imagine," He hissed slowly, not caring what bystanders thought of the situation. "Now, for God's sake and your own, ADDRESS ME PROPERLY."
Vincent felt the strange sadistic pleasure again as he watched the play of emotions cross Yuffie's face. "Eh . . . heh heh . . ." She gulped loudly, trying to writhe away. Vincent tightened his claw's grip, to her obvious and slow coming shock.
"Eh . . . gaaah . . . ahhh . . .AHHHHH!" Yuffie finally saw that she was caught, and as a result, shrieked loudly, causing the crowd to step away from them hurriedly. Tifa stepped back with them, and Cloud shifted awkwardly.
"YAAAGH! Cloud, HELP! Vincent, lemme go, don't kill me, ACK! Umph!" She began grunting as she yanked at her wrists captivity. Vincent raised an eyebrow; so she got the name right AFTER being bodily threatened, he'd have to remember that.
"Lemme goooooo . . . he's gonna kill me and suck me dryyy . . ." Vincent did a double take at that. What? 'Suck her dry?' That sounded vaguely disturbing, and he wasn't even able to begin to form a mental image on that one.
"What does she mean by that?" Cloud asked incredulously, his expression no less puzzled and questioning than Tifa's.
"I have no idea," Vincent replied honestly, frowning at his now unwilling charge. She was still trying to wrench herself away; unaware of the fact that if Vincent so wished, her metacarpals*** would be ground to dust in three seconds flat.
Yuffie saw him looking at her with obvious disinterest, and glared. "You ticked me off now, I'm gonna tell!"
Vincent tilted his head back slightly in betrayal of his jolt of apprehension. How unprofessional, turn traitor on a deal? Would she really? "Yuffie," he warned, "I thought we had an agreement."
"Agreements null an' void if I'm dead!" wailed the girl. There was a point, there. She rattled on. "Tifa, he was gonna get Tifa . . ."
Well, that blatant lie certainly got their attention. Vincent watched with an alarming interest as Cloud seemed to swell slightly in size. While he knew he could very well best Cloud in a full out brawl, the blond being here without a weapon and Vincent's speed being considerably higher, Tifa was there as well. Together, the odds were against the gunman.
Not to mention the fact that once Yuffie figured that out as well, she'd join in; and her skills with her shuriken were nothing to sneeze at either. If, of course, Vincent had actually had the slightest inclination to sneeze in the first place.
However, Yuffie's seemingly inability to keep her mouth shut was his savior, no doubt about that. She railed on, with absolutely no regard for her dignity. . . so much for Wutainese pride. "He - he was in your room, an' . . . an' he was gonna suck out all your blood and you'd diiiie . . ."
He looked down at the obviously frightened ninja. Was that honestly what the girl had thought? He gave an exasperated sigh. He supposed that sleeping in a coffin for thirty-odd years and looking just as young as when he'd entered might have something to do with her theory. . .
If it wasn't so childish, Vincent might have rolled his eyes.
Unable to keep the annoyed look off his face, he dragged Yuffie back into full view. "I'm afraid not," he said distastefully. "I'm hardly vampiric."
Tifa looked slightly less appalled; Yuffie's ridiculous story had eased her mind, but she was certainly still suspicious. Yes, well, Vincent reflected, he did look a tad shady. And dark. Not to mention brooding, and as Barret had so delicately put it, "$%^*! scary."
However, Tifa wasn't the real problem to deal with at the moment; Cloud was looking absolutely livid. Vincent thanked whoever was listening that Cloud's overly sized sword was not within reach. "You were in," the blond growled, "her ROOM?"
Yes, Vincent brooded. That simple task of looking to borrow a hairbrush had seemed to positively rain misfortune on his head. He had yet to truly gain Cloud's trust, and he was fairly certain that the way to do that did NOT involve sneaking into his girlfriend's room in the wee hours of the morning.
"He does have a point," Tifa pointed out speculatively.
"And while I apologize for that," Vincent said through gritted teeth, "you are all jumping to conclusions." Yuffie's struggles doubled, if at all possible.
"Miss Lockhart," Vincent said calmly, his golden claw keeping a firm grip on the ninja writhing in her attempt to escape. "Quite honestly, I was looking for a hairbrush."
The girl whose wrist he held captive stopped struggling almost immediately. Yuffie gulped, and a small alarm started ringing in Vincent's ears. "Seriously?" she asked in a muffled squeak.
"Yes." He said sharply, staring down at her again. "Mine went . . . missing."
She hunched her shoulders slightly, stepping back a pace. ". . .Oops. . ."
Vincent decided that Yuffie saying 'oops' was a bad omen of sorts, and glared incriminatingly at her. She gulped, and put on quite the show of being sheepish, dragging her sneaker toe through the dirt and nodding her head slowly.
"I uh . . ." The girl had better be grateful he was listening, she was speaking so softly he wouldn't have noticed it otherwise. "I kinda . . . stole it."
"What?!" Vincent had half a mind to crush her wrist that instant. This entire . . . fiasco, for lack of a better word, was completely, utterly, and entirely her fault?! Not that he hadn't thought so before, but this merely clinched the thing! Had she really had the audacity to go through his things, his personal belongings? Had she no SHAME?
Realizing his temper was spiraling only because of his beast's encouragement – and letting the Galian Beast loose upon the crowd would be a mistake indeed – he shoved down his anger as rapidly as he could. Vincent took a deep breath, and found that Cloud had tensed up considerably, most likely because Vincent's hand had strayed dangerously near his gun. As if his gun with the most dangerous thing on him. . .
He narrowed his gaze, and slowly inched his hand away from his gun. Really, that was a reflex he'd have to work harder on controlling. . . No, Vincent would not bring himself down to actually shooting the petulant thief, but instead leaned forward and dragged her nose to nose with him. "Why?" he hissed.
"I . . ." Yuffie gulped, and blurted out loudly, "I wanted to see how you looked with bedhead!"
Vincent tightened his grip oh-so-slightly on Yuffie's wrist . . .
Cloud winced slightly at the apparent fate of the aspiring ninja, and held up Tifa as she struggled to stay standing in her throes of laughter.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
My other story, 'If My Heart Weren't Broken', is giving me crap, so to help me keep my sanity I began writing short bits from Final Fantasy VII between chapters. This was the first, written under serious caffeine-induced creativity, watching the first episode of GetBackers and waiting for ep. 2 to download, and the aftershocks of being forced to write a horny Laguna.
This is only being posted for irony's sake; it's not something I'd brag about. I, being an extremely introverted person, tend to concentrate more on thoughts then actions . . . eh.
*clip – a clip is a regular handgun 'refill,' (put simply, I won't get detailed) averagely consisting of six bullets.
**I have nothing against homosexuality. I even sometimes indulge in a yaoi fangirl squeal, so don't take this the wrong way, kiddies.
*** metacarpals – learned this in biology the other day; it's the bones in your wrist