A/N: Aaand... she's back. Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! Whoa. I never expected such a massive response. It's very motivating, let me tell you that! Also, many thanks to Novocain for putting up with my random updates and doing a great beta job, as always.

Chapter 2

Monday, 08:30

I'm embarrassed. After that, I think I should be. Absolutely - certainly – undeniably. Absocertainiably.

Why? Pffft. As if you don't remember, you evil frozen minx. But, okay, let's pretend you don't, for a moment. Let's give my sanity another kick at the scrotum. I saw him. I saw Reeve, all right? And he was with a woman. He - uh, no, not with a woman exactly – Shiva-chan. Please. I totally didn't just hint at Reeve being gay. You're being ridiculous. What I meant is: I saw Reeve in a woman.

I'm scarred.

And then, as if that wasn't enough, I had a dream about a giant penis that talked. Its tiny mouth flapping, it was beckoning me closer and closer. I watched it sway and mumble and dance towards me, completely mesmerised. When it got close enough, my eyes widened in horror. An army of poisonous barracudas could have popped in to say hello to my vagina and it still couldn't have been worse.

The giant dancing penis had a freaking goatee.

08:32

It's not a laughing matter, Shiva.

08:33

Seriously. Not funny.

08:37

Like, shut up now, you horrible journal with your horrible beady eyes of paper.

Oh.

A bird almost crapped on my shoes, but it missed. Yeah.

Hit my shoulder instead.

I feel betrayed.

09: 45

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap! Finally out of my hair, still in my life. I'm late. Holy father and creator of Jenova's ass, am I late! He's going to kill me. I'll be found dead with a pencil up my nostril and through my brain – after all, Reeve's pencils are notoriously big, which must be an engineer thing. Or maybe he's compensating for something, I don't know - except... except... I... kind of... do. And he's... not. I think. Not that I have to anything to compare it t – Argh, no, make it stop! Rewind. Rewind.

Hell in a handheld basket. I'm fucked.

09:46

Well, not literally –

09:47

Enough, woman. You're not a hormone-crazed cow.

09:48

...Are you?

09:50

I'm closing this journal right now.

That's my stop anyway. Be glad I'm not threatening to flush you down the toilet, or give you to that nice-looking old lady two seats across from here, who is currently picking her nose with one hand and petting a rubber ducky with the other. Imagine her fingers turning your pages one by one, very slowly and deliberately, as snot dribbles on your fine, soft paper... You'd love that, wouldn't you?

Huh! Thought so. Who's yo daddy now? Who's yo bitch, mustard-face? Who's –

Oh, wow, look at this huuuuge building! Look at the imposing sign that reads WORLD RESTORATION ORGANISATION...

Yes, Yuffie. Look at your life flashing before your eyes as a way too big pencil makes a kebab out of your brain through your nasal cavity.

. ... .

"You're late."

The man had spoken from behind a massive wooden desk, his head hovering closely over a stack of papers as he scribbled furiously, occasionally drawing a sharp line with a jerky move of his wrist.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry," said the girl at the door. She was short and slight, with a bob of sloppily cut jet black hair.

The man, Reeve, looked up from his work for the first time.

"What? This is unusual. And I don't mean only you being unusually late," he said, but he didn't sound particularly angry or strict or amiable. He didn't sound particularly anything.

"Er...?"

Reeve pursed his lips and hunched over his work again. This time, he spoke with a friendly undertone. One could say almost teasing.

"What? No starved little kittens needing your help against the janitor community on the subway today?"

Yuffie's cheeks and forehead turned beet red in a matter of seconds. She had what she often liked to call a very retarded skin tone, its courtesy package including enough red tint supplies to last throughout a communist revolution as well as a mind of its own.

Any other day, she would have scoffed and defended herself. But she didn't, because this was the day after a very special day in which Yuffie had seen her old boss humping like a horny turtle. Except that simile didn't work because the experience had been less funny and more flustering.

"No, not really," she croaked. "Something happened and I had to go home, clean up the bird sh - clean up a bit, and I, uh, missed the bus a couple of times and then possibly the right stop as well, and when I was crossing the street, this old lady with a rubber duck lo-" at which point she spluttered, "-ver dropped it and caused a big commotion by running after it, and lots of cars had to steer out of her way, and... stuff."

Reeve stared at his papers for a moment. Then he looked up, and she clasped her hands nervously. His eyes found hers, dead serious. Yuffie blew the hair out of her face and braced herself.

"Speaking for myself, I think the runaway Gongagan elephants blocking the street were better."

She blinked, and he let out a short, crisp laugh.

"You have a lot of work waiting for you, miss, and Joanna has been on a diet since she was a toddler presumably. We don't want my secretary biting your head off, now, do we?" he jested.

She shook her head dumbly. She didn't realize she was staring until he fixed her with another inquiring gaze. Staring. Eyes like chocolate. Easter eggs. Bunnies. Steamy, wild sex.

A weak meep (that may or may not have been) later, Yuffie had fled the room.

She had the misfortune of running into him again that very same afternoon. It was hard to avoid someone when working for them on top of being situated in the same building, but literally flying straight onto their thorax and sliding down their abdomen like a dead insect, only without the screeching noise? That could certainly be avoided.

Yuffie was lithe and she had nimble fingers, which got more nimble next to shiny and colorful things as well as People Who Might Have Shiny and Colorful Things on Their Person. She was by no means concentrated and reserved. No, in fact, she was always flailing something around, and if it just so happened to be a foot, and a nearby door just happened to open at that very moment, she would be seen in an extremely unflattering position. And so she was.

Her hands clasped his collar as her left foot dragged her sideways along with the door; it was all very messy, which is why as soon as she realized she had almost dragged him to the floor with her, she exclaimed, "I'm so sorry!"

After a few seconds of bemused silence, Reeve straightened up and offered her a hand.

"It's quite all right. You okay?"

He gave her a quick head-to-toe look-over. He didn't seem overly worried, but it was polite to ask.

"I'm fine," she squeaked, still on the floor. Noticing this, Reeve reached out and gently grabbed her elbow to help her up. For some reason, this only added to her distress. "Oh God, that was horrible. So, so sorry," she mumbled again.

Reeve cocked his head to the side, and looked at her curiously.

"It's okay," he repeated.

"No, it's not!"

"But - "

"I tackled you! Accidentally."

He didn't argue that. "Yes..."

"I almost broke your ribs!"

"Not really."

"I almost dislocated your shoulder!" She was hysterical at this point.

"I'm afraid I'm not a teenage beauty pageant contestant anymore, Yuffie, so I'm neither that delicate nor - " he whispered urgently, but she hadn't had the last word yet.

"My nose bumped your nipple!" she yelled in despair.

There was no amused comeback this time. Reeve stood speechless for a few moments, his gaze wide and steady and completely fixed on her.

She was frozen on the spot.

"I – I – I - "

Reeve's eyebrow tilted upwards as he clenched his bearded jaw. Two tiny hollows suggested that he was biting the inside of his cheeks, and then he spoke, and she understood.

"If you would follow me, gentlemen…" he said in a disciplined voice, and resumed his casual walk. A horde of old men in suits did, in fact, trail after him. Yuffie watched in horror as they walked by, some of them looking at her like she was a labradoodle in a swimsuit playing fetch with its own excrement.

When the last of them was out of sight, she leaned against the door responsible for all this and attempted to choke her treacherous leg.

And so that afternoon furthered the tradition of recent afternoons, that tradition being that a certain ninja was severely embarrassed and/or traumatized, and it was all great, merry fun until Yuffie Kisaragi started to seriously ponder moving into a large ceramic vase in a graveyard and living off of tulips and daisies for the rest of her life.

At least she had her journal. Yes, all would be well as long as Shiva-chan was there.

Which, unfortunately, she wasn't, as Yuffie was bound to discover that very same night before falling into an angst-induced coma.

A/N: There might be more than one chapter left. ;)