"I mean, it's just gross, don't you think? All this twirling around like a vapid airhead kind of nonsense. Am I right?"
"Sure."
"Like, 'Ooh, look at me! I'm all prim and proper and, like, a total doormat'."
"I see."
"'A magic pixie girl! Every man's blithe freakin' dream'! Give me a break! Can you imagine anything more infantile?"
"That's very interesting," Cloud supplied with the barest hint of enthusiasm.
He wondered what had set off this particular line of conversation. They had wandered past a dressmaker earlier, its wares prominently displayed on headless mannequins, which he found just a little bit unsettling for some reason. In any case, Yuffie had decided to take the opportunity to make perfectly clear to him, and not for the first time, her absolute loathing and detestation of anything she deemed 'girly'.
They were on one of their shopping trips down in the local markets for food and supplies for the 7th Heaven when they'd struck up a conversation. Of course, 'conversation' between the two of them usually meant her chattering away about whatever was on her mind at the moment, punctuated by occasional grunts or murmurs in the affirmative from him, to indicate (or at least feign) that he was still listening, until he could hand her off to someone else.
These trips were becoming a lot more frequent lately, as Yuffie had recently bought an apartment in downtown Edge, to "get away from all that noise", as she put it. 'Noise' being her father's ceaseless meddling in her affairs. He couldn't say he blamed her. In any case, she'd been hoarding boxes in one of the upstairs rooms of the 7th Heaven for weeks now in preparation for moving into her new place.
"And those stringy things that people leave hanging down, er, what do you call'em?"
"Tassels?" he offered.
"Speaking from experience there, Spikey?" she needled him, suddenly turning on her compatriot. "Ha, come to think of it, you've probably got more experience with all that than me! Maybe you should get up to it more often, huh?"
Oh, great, Cloud thought. Tifa had brought that up, had she? The Incident. Though he had sometimes wondered afterwards why such an occurence should inspire embarrassment. Nobody cared anymore when women put on 'manly' clothes, after all. The answer, he realized, plain as day, was that society deemed that it was shameful to be a woman. To be a woman, after all, was to be beneath men. He hadn't dwelt on it for long, though it struck him as strange how accepted this way of thinking still was, among men and women alike. Either way, he decided to brush it off with characteristic nonchalance. It wasn't exactly a state secret, and it certainly hadn't been his idea to start with.
"Would love to, your Highness, but I'm afraid that lavender just isn't my color."
"Pff, you're no fun!" Yuffie replied. "Anyway, did you see those things in the shop windows? With all the shimming and appliqué and stuff? I mean, yuck! You wouldn't catch me dead in one of those things. Never ever ever ever ever. And that's that," she declared with perfect confidence as they reached the steps of the 7th Heaven, swinging her arms outwards, as if to emphasize this latest proclamation and cement it in stone.
Cloud wondered idly if his friend did protest too much. And where she'd picked up a term like 'appliqué'. Out loud, however, he simply replied: "Right, well... good talk."
"Hey, where are you going?" Yuffie called after him as he headed down the road.
"Home," he replied, turning around. "I moved out, remember?"
Ah, of course, Yuffie thought. He and Tifa had been together for so long, but not together together. And finally he'd decided to move away, to make things less awkward for everyone.
"Oh, right," she replied out loud as he wandered off. "Catch you on the flip-side!"
Walking in the doorway, she paused. "Do people still say that?" she muttered to herself, then shrugged. "Ah, well.."