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FF7 - Restore - chapter 5 scene 1
I'll have to go back and rewrite the previous chapters to make it clearer why Cloud and Tifa left. It's clear in my head but I don't think it's 100% convincing to others. XD; Also, if you find an error, I shall love you if you tell me. This is still unbetaed.
NaNo:
17865 / 50000 words. 36% done!
Yeah so umm haven't added more today. ._.; I'm at the I HATE THIS F** STORY stage.
Shit I Wrote While Avoiding NaNo:
8719 / 50000 words. 17% done!
Prologue - table of contents.
Phi was one of Denzel's best buds. He was a total dork of unequaled dorkitude, and at least one person a day threatened to knock him out if that would stop his incessant fidgeting -- but he was also the kind of guy who, when one of his friends told him "hey, someone might be gunning for my family again and I gotta jet in case they want to use my bleeding and battered body to send Cloud a message," he just said "dude, haven't they heard of texting!" and barricaded you in his own bedroom, where he would generously feed you half his secret stash of pilfered candy.
He hadn't even complained about how depressing it was to share a room with a brooding Denzel. His mom had been pretty nice too, fed him a good solid meal, and hadn't even said anything about the slight risk of said potential homicidal maniac tracking Denzel down and going through her family to get at him. So Denzel wasn't about to repay them by taking Phi to discreetly check on things back at the Seventh Heaven, no matter how cool Phi thought it would be to ninja through the streets and set up surveillance. The guy had all the street smarts of a newborn chocobo.
Denzel had had a family most of his life -- his real parents until he was eight, and then Cloud and Tifa when he was almost ten. Twelve years and a bit, total. But a year and a half in the street had changed him in ways he couldn't undo.
Sometimes it was even useful.
Tifa was right, his hair was getting a bit long; but when he combed it flat on his head he could tie it into a little ponytail. Then he'd started smiling a little vaguely, in an absent-minded way, and slouched. Nothing to see here, just a daydreaming dork trailing past the end of the street, and if he gazed at the Seventh Heaven as he crossed the intersection on the next block it was purely by accident--
What the hell.
There was a guy standing behind the bar. A guy who wasn't Cloud. From a block away Denzel couldn't see any details, but he could tell that much -- Cloud's shade of blond was pretty distinctive, and this really wasn't it. He forced himself to keep walking and not stare too long.
Black hair, yeah. And just doing his thing behind the counter, not the hurried, look-over-your-shoulder behavior of a bad thief. Then again good thieves knew all about acting natural.
Denzel checked his PHS again. Still no new message.
The last he'd gotten was a 'we're okay, stay put' that came across as 'this might not end in a fight after all, but we really don't know for sure yet'. He'd gone to bed somewhat reassured.
But it was almost nine in the morning, and Denzel had a hard time picturing Tifa sleeping in so late. Possibility one, they'd talked so late in the night she and Cloud were too exhausted to wake. It was still relatively early, after all, and on any other weekend Denzel himself wouldn't have emerged for another couple of hours...
Possibility two, the peace talks had backfired.
But the bar was open.
But Cloud and Tifa weren't in it.
He turned left at the next corner, to approach the Seventh Heaven from another angle. Dialed Cloud's PHS as he went, but once again he was shuffled off to his voicemail.
(On the way he passed old man Zeller and Mrs. Jenseny bitching each other out about a truck with a peppering of brand new little holes in it, but then again they'd been bitching at each other for as long as he'd known them and probably longer, so he didn't spare it much thought.)
From the opposite sidewalk, he could see there were already a couple of regulars inside the bar. The stranger was making them laugh, an elbow propped up on the counter in a casual way as he waved his other hand expansively. Denzel frowned harder.
... Black hair, shoulder-length in jagged spikes. Pale-ish skin. Young. Roughly the same size as Cloud. And Denzel knew that tanktop; he'd carried it to the appropriate drawer along with a pile of Cloud's other fresh-washed tops just two days ago.
Denzel swerved with no warning, stalked his way across the street, and shoved the door open.
"Welcome!" the man at the bar said, before he even turned to look. And that voice -- yeah, that was all the confirmation Denzel needed. The church guy didn't even blink when he saw Denzel; his smile just became a little wider. He'd recognized him. "Hey, what are you doing here?"
That felt a little past simply recognizing him from the church. The surprise that Denzel would be here -- he didn't know, it sounded like it assumed more background knowledge. Denzel scowled, gave another glance at the other patrons, and stomped his way closer. "I should be the one asking you that," he growled under his breath. The guy chuckled like he'd heard him perfectly well.
"I didn't introduce myself yesterday," the guy said, picking up a glass and a towel. "My name's Zack. You're Denzel, right?"
"That glass was already dry," Denzel pointed out, countering his friendly expression with an unimpressed glare.
"--So it was." Zack put the glass back behind the counter, and his expression sobered up slightly. "Just figured you'd prefer my hands to be busy," he said, voice pitched so the patrons wouldn't hear.
Denzel tensed a little, because he did prefer it, at that. Meant a second of delay to drop the glass before the guy tried to grab him. "...Yeah, because you having a heavy projectile in hand is way better," he drawled.
He was starting to get strange looks from Mr. Staunton for the way he stood all stiff and wary almost two meters away from the bar, so he reluctantly walked up to it and propped an elbow on the countertop. The guy -- Zack -- smoothly stepped away from him and plunged his hands in the sink, feeling around the bottom for things to wash.
"Oh yeah, kitchen knives, good idea," Denzel said.
Zack let out a snort. "Okay, now you're just griping for the fun of it."
Denzel refused to dignify that with an answer.
Damn, but the guy was good at acting trustworthy. Even the regulars were already relaxed, joking around when he stepped away for a minute to check on them.
"Where's Tifa and Cloud?" Denzel asked when he came back to the sink. He stayed tense, watching closely for any telltale twitch, any misdirection.
One of Zack's eyebrows quirked up in (possibly well-faked) surprise.
"Wutai. I thought they'd told you?"
... What.
"Run that by me again," he said slowly. "Wutai?"
"Well, right now they're probably still en route --"
Denzel kept staring at him. Yesterday his guardians had been all 'don't come here it might be dangerous' and today they were supposedly all 'how about we go on a trip halfway across the world in the middle of the night'? Yeah, sure. "You can't be serious."
Zack gave him a wince. "Okay, it does sound kind of dodgy."
"Kind of, he says," muttered Denzel.
Zack's hands were in the water again; he stared down at the coffee cup he was washing for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts (or pretending to, Denzel wasn't ruling that out yet.)
"You know Yuffie's dad?"
"Heard about him, yeah."
"Seems like he had a heart attack and passed away last night. They went to the funeral, a guy named Cid was gonna pick them up."
"Yeah, yeah, you can drop names," Denzel retorted with a scowl. "Doesn't tell me why they went without waiting for me."
"I'm gonna drop another one. Elmyra's supposed to pick you up and get you there, if you wanna go. Tifa was supposed to arrange it?"
Denzel gritted his teeth. He'd had no call from either woman, but he wasn't gonna confirm that. He didn't need to, apparently, because Zack seemed to read it on his face, and had the gall to look understanding and even perhaps a little compassionate.
"Why don't you call her to check?"
"I think I will," Denzel threatened. He took his PHS out of his pocket and dialed.
Ring... ring... Voicemail. Denzel told himself they were out of range, even though nowhere on the Planet seemed to be out of range. He'd gotten phone calls from the Bone Village in Northern before, for Odin's sake. Maybe they were too far up in the sky. Cid liked to push his ships to their limits.
But when he tried to dial Phi, who lived maybe ten blocks over, he got the same result, and he knew for a fact that Phi slept with his PHS tucked under his pillow, since he used it as an alarm clock.
"-- Fuckdamnithell."
"Tifa know you swear that way?" Zack asked. His teasing smile melted into a frown of concern almost immediately, though. "What's wrong?"
Denzel waved his concern off with an irritated flick of the hand. "PHS. Not working. It's telling me I have signal but -- nrgh."
"Huh. That's weird."
"You too?" asked a patron as he walked up to the bar. Denzel tried not to startle too visibly. "Network must be down again. It was doing the same thing last week."
"Aw, sh--crap, I mean."
The man laughed, dropping a big hand on his head and ruffling his hair vigorously. "I won't tell Tifa if you don't. And don't fret, it'll fix itself in a hour or two." He turned to Zack, allowing Denzel to step away. "Alright, give me another coffee."
"Last one for the road?"
Denzel kept his eye on the two men as he went around the end of the bar and reached for the wall phone. It was an old salvaged thing, dating back from way before Meteor; it even used cables and everything. Maybe it would work when the PHS network didn't.
Ring, ring --
"Yes? Who is this?"
Denzel's first reaction was an intense wave of relief. Elmyra's curious voice was like a reminder that he wasn't alone, that he had adults out there who he knew for sure were ready to drop everything to help, and her easy tone said she had heard of no hint of foul play about his adoptive parents.
His second reaction was to remember that, tough as she was, Elmyra had never been a fighter; that she lived several hours away, too far to do anything in time but worry; and that she was getting older and didn't need the stress. "Hey! It's Denzel," he said, smoothing the tense suspicion out of his voice.
Turned out she'd gotten Tifa's message by early morning, but only two hours later had been just as unable to leave Denzel a message of her own to set a pickup time and place. Danged PHS network, and wasn't it a good thing that he had thought to call her on the landline. Denzel decided not to mention Zack. She hadn't.
He hung up, slightly reassured -- at least the Wutai thing was legit, weird as it seemed. But the situation was still weird in general, and that Tifa hadn't told Elmyra she had people over was just plain strange; Elmyra would have been happy to come check on them and probably even cook them a good meal, standing in for the host Tifa couldn't be at the moment. Elmyra had firm opinions on how to treat your guests, and abandoning them in your house as you wandered off wasn't it.
"So? How did it go?"
Denzel twitched a little, even though he'd seen Zack drift closer. The man kept facing the room, allowing Denzel to stand almost at his back.
The talk with Elmyra had contributed to relax him. But he didn't want to let Zack off the hook yet. "How do you know Tifa?" he asked, bypassing Zack's question.
"I don't really, I know Cloud. Only met her once at Nibelheim, way back in the day."
"... So you don't know her. So why the heck are you working at her bar?" He gave a critical look to the mess that was starting to pile up by the sink and the open floor-level cupboards just waiting to trip a hurried barkeeper. "Because you probably shouldn't. Just saying."
Zack gave a laugh that sounded vaguely embarrassed to Denzel's ears, and then promptly changed the subject. "Listen, I'd be happy to answer all of your questions, but Tifa and Cloud should be the ones to tell you what's really going on here."
"Because you don't know what I'm big enough to hear?"
"No." Zack turned to face him, leaning back on the counter with his hands on the edge, and for once he looked totally serious. "Because if I tell you, you'll think I'm bugfuck crazy."
Denzel met his eyes for a few seconds head on.
Something big then. Something really weird. Cloud was a weirdness magnet, so Denzel had a hard time deciding what kind of weird Zack was. There were so many possibilities. At the very least it was much more convincing than 'Oh, I'm just his totally mundane drinking buddy from Kalm'.
He sighed. He wasn't going to learn more right away, and at least he was now pretty convinced that Zack wasn't dangerous to him for the moment, and perhaps at all. The guy hadn't kidnapped Denzel yet, at least, and -- well. He felt sincere, even in -- especially in -- his refusal to say more.
Denzel refused to pass for easily won over, though.
"Not to destroy your illusions," he drawled, "but I already think you're bugfuck crazy."
"...Ouch."
"Oh well, I'll show you how to hold a bar properly. Do you even know how to do mixed drinks?"
Zack blinked for a second, and then grinned in honest delight. Denzel reminded himself firmly that he was harder to charm than that. Really, he was.
"Well, mostly the ones I like."
"Great." Denzel rolled his eyes and threw him an unconvinced sideway look. "Budge over. Only got a few hours to make sure you don't embarrass us."
"Aw, phooey." Raking a hand through his hair, Zack seemed torn between laughter and awkwardness. "...Denzel..."
And that was the 'I'm sorry, kid, Santa Klaus doesn't really exist' tone. "What?" Denzel snapped, voice coming out more annoyed than planned. It was just that after a whole chat being treated more or less as an equal it rankled to hear that too-gentle, careful note.
Zack opened his mouth, seemed to consider, closed it again. Watched him. Denzel scowled, chin held high.
"... Alright, alright. But can you do me a favor? Can you set up your meeting with Elmyra elsewhere? Don't have to tell me where, just not around here. Tifa is going to kill me hard enough for not telling you to leave right away, I don't really need the cherry on top of her killing me for Aeris's mom too."
Denzel's brow furrowed. He knew who Aeris had been, of course -- Elmyra had pictures, and Tifa had told him a few Avalanche tales -- but no one referred to Elmyra like that very often anymore.
"If I ask why, you're gonna tell me I've got to ask Tifa, aren't you?" He gave the guy a cynical look.
"Yeah, sorry." A sigh. "Okay, me and my girlfriend -- well, there was a third guy with us, and he's kind of... Uh." An uncomfortable look. "Long story very short Cloud and Tifa don't like the idea of you being around him and he's got nowhere to go, and... Okay. He's upstairs. So if you want clothes and stuff, I'll have to get them for you, because Cloud'll have my balls for earrings if I let you in any farther than this."
... Oh. That was all?
"He a recovering druggie or something?"
"Ooor something, yeah."
Denzel narrowed his eyes. "A clone?"
Zack fumbled the glass he was half-heartedly drying and narrowly managed to rescue it before it hit the ground. Yeah, with reflexes like that, like hell he was a normal Joe off the street.
"-- uh. Oh god." And cue laughter, but not the 'this is hilarious' kind. More like ahahafuuuck. "No. Not a clone."
Denzel's eyes narrowed some more.
"And that's enough for now -- no, seriously, it is. Call Elmyra to set up that meeting before she leaves, and then I'll get you clothes for the trip -- and if you nag me again I swear I'll get you nothing but girl clothes."
Denzel huffed, crossing his arms, and glared at the finger Zack was pointing at his face. This time he looked firm and determined. Denzel weighed him up... no, pushing wouldn't get him any farther. But he was going to be with Cloud and Tifa soon, and then he'd know. They better not even think of not telling him everything.
"Fine," he said, uncrossing his arms slowly. "Budge over. Time to see if you'll be worth anything as a bartender."
Next.
NaNo:
Yeah so umm haven't added more today. ._.; I'm at the I HATE THIS F** STORY stage.
Shit I Wrote While Avoiding NaNo:
Prologue - table of contents.
Phi was one of Denzel's best buds. He was a total dork of unequaled dorkitude, and at least one person a day threatened to knock him out if that would stop his incessant fidgeting -- but he was also the kind of guy who, when one of his friends told him "hey, someone might be gunning for my family again and I gotta jet in case they want to use my bleeding and battered body to send Cloud a message," he just said "dude, haven't they heard of texting!" and barricaded you in his own bedroom, where he would generously feed you half his secret stash of pilfered candy.
He hadn't even complained about how depressing it was to share a room with a brooding Denzel. His mom had been pretty nice too, fed him a good solid meal, and hadn't even said anything about the slight risk of said potential homicidal maniac tracking Denzel down and going through her family to get at him. So Denzel wasn't about to repay them by taking Phi to discreetly check on things back at the Seventh Heaven, no matter how cool Phi thought it would be to ninja through the streets and set up surveillance. The guy had all the street smarts of a newborn chocobo.
Denzel had had a family most of his life -- his real parents until he was eight, and then Cloud and Tifa when he was almost ten. Twelve years and a bit, total. But a year and a half in the street had changed him in ways he couldn't undo.
Sometimes it was even useful.
Tifa was right, his hair was getting a bit long; but when he combed it flat on his head he could tie it into a little ponytail. Then he'd started smiling a little vaguely, in an absent-minded way, and slouched. Nothing to see here, just a daydreaming dork trailing past the end of the street, and if he gazed at the Seventh Heaven as he crossed the intersection on the next block it was purely by accident--
What the hell.
There was a guy standing behind the bar. A guy who wasn't Cloud. From a block away Denzel couldn't see any details, but he could tell that much -- Cloud's shade of blond was pretty distinctive, and this really wasn't it. He forced himself to keep walking and not stare too long.
Black hair, yeah. And just doing his thing behind the counter, not the hurried, look-over-your-shoulder behavior of a bad thief. Then again good thieves knew all about acting natural.
Denzel checked his PHS again. Still no new message.
The last he'd gotten was a 'we're okay, stay put' that came across as 'this might not end in a fight after all, but we really don't know for sure yet'. He'd gone to bed somewhat reassured.
But it was almost nine in the morning, and Denzel had a hard time picturing Tifa sleeping in so late. Possibility one, they'd talked so late in the night she and Cloud were too exhausted to wake. It was still relatively early, after all, and on any other weekend Denzel himself wouldn't have emerged for another couple of hours...
Possibility two, the peace talks had backfired.
But the bar was open.
But Cloud and Tifa weren't in it.
He turned left at the next corner, to approach the Seventh Heaven from another angle. Dialed Cloud's PHS as he went, but once again he was shuffled off to his voicemail.
(On the way he passed old man Zeller and Mrs. Jenseny bitching each other out about a truck with a peppering of brand new little holes in it, but then again they'd been bitching at each other for as long as he'd known them and probably longer, so he didn't spare it much thought.)
From the opposite sidewalk, he could see there were already a couple of regulars inside the bar. The stranger was making them laugh, an elbow propped up on the counter in a casual way as he waved his other hand expansively. Denzel frowned harder.
... Black hair, shoulder-length in jagged spikes. Pale-ish skin. Young. Roughly the same size as Cloud. And Denzel knew that tanktop; he'd carried it to the appropriate drawer along with a pile of Cloud's other fresh-washed tops just two days ago.
Denzel swerved with no warning, stalked his way across the street, and shoved the door open.
"Welcome!" the man at the bar said, before he even turned to look. And that voice -- yeah, that was all the confirmation Denzel needed. The church guy didn't even blink when he saw Denzel; his smile just became a little wider. He'd recognized him. "Hey, what are you doing here?"
That felt a little past simply recognizing him from the church. The surprise that Denzel would be here -- he didn't know, it sounded like it assumed more background knowledge. Denzel scowled, gave another glance at the other patrons, and stomped his way closer. "I should be the one asking you that," he growled under his breath. The guy chuckled like he'd heard him perfectly well.
"I didn't introduce myself yesterday," the guy said, picking up a glass and a towel. "My name's Zack. You're Denzel, right?"
"That glass was already dry," Denzel pointed out, countering his friendly expression with an unimpressed glare.
"--So it was." Zack put the glass back behind the counter, and his expression sobered up slightly. "Just figured you'd prefer my hands to be busy," he said, voice pitched so the patrons wouldn't hear.
Denzel tensed a little, because he did prefer it, at that. Meant a second of delay to drop the glass before the guy tried to grab him. "...Yeah, because you having a heavy projectile in hand is way better," he drawled.
He was starting to get strange looks from Mr. Staunton for the way he stood all stiff and wary almost two meters away from the bar, so he reluctantly walked up to it and propped an elbow on the countertop. The guy -- Zack -- smoothly stepped away from him and plunged his hands in the sink, feeling around the bottom for things to wash.
"Oh yeah, kitchen knives, good idea," Denzel said.
Zack let out a snort. "Okay, now you're just griping for the fun of it."
Denzel refused to dignify that with an answer.
Damn, but the guy was good at acting trustworthy. Even the regulars were already relaxed, joking around when he stepped away for a minute to check on them.
"Where's Tifa and Cloud?" Denzel asked when he came back to the sink. He stayed tense, watching closely for any telltale twitch, any misdirection.
One of Zack's eyebrows quirked up in (possibly well-faked) surprise.
"Wutai. I thought they'd told you?"
... What.
"Run that by me again," he said slowly. "Wutai?"
"Well, right now they're probably still en route --"
Denzel kept staring at him. Yesterday his guardians had been all 'don't come here it might be dangerous' and today they were supposedly all 'how about we go on a trip halfway across the world in the middle of the night'? Yeah, sure. "You can't be serious."
Zack gave him a wince. "Okay, it does sound kind of dodgy."
"Kind of, he says," muttered Denzel.
Zack's hands were in the water again; he stared down at the coffee cup he was washing for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts (or pretending to, Denzel wasn't ruling that out yet.)
"You know Yuffie's dad?"
"Heard about him, yeah."
"Seems like he had a heart attack and passed away last night. They went to the funeral, a guy named Cid was gonna pick them up."
"Yeah, yeah, you can drop names," Denzel retorted with a scowl. "Doesn't tell me why they went without waiting for me."
"I'm gonna drop another one. Elmyra's supposed to pick you up and get you there, if you wanna go. Tifa was supposed to arrange it?"
Denzel gritted his teeth. He'd had no call from either woman, but he wasn't gonna confirm that. He didn't need to, apparently, because Zack seemed to read it on his face, and had the gall to look understanding and even perhaps a little compassionate.
"Why don't you call her to check?"
"I think I will," Denzel threatened. He took his PHS out of his pocket and dialed.
Ring... ring... Voicemail. Denzel told himself they were out of range, even though nowhere on the Planet seemed to be out of range. He'd gotten phone calls from the Bone Village in Northern before, for Odin's sake. Maybe they were too far up in the sky. Cid liked to push his ships to their limits.
But when he tried to dial Phi, who lived maybe ten blocks over, he got the same result, and he knew for a fact that Phi slept with his PHS tucked under his pillow, since he used it as an alarm clock.
"-- Fuckdamnithell."
"Tifa know you swear that way?" Zack asked. His teasing smile melted into a frown of concern almost immediately, though. "What's wrong?"
Denzel waved his concern off with an irritated flick of the hand. "PHS. Not working. It's telling me I have signal but -- nrgh."
"Huh. That's weird."
"You too?" asked a patron as he walked up to the bar. Denzel tried not to startle too visibly. "Network must be down again. It was doing the same thing last week."
"Aw, sh--crap, I mean."
The man laughed, dropping a big hand on his head and ruffling his hair vigorously. "I won't tell Tifa if you don't. And don't fret, it'll fix itself in a hour or two." He turned to Zack, allowing Denzel to step away. "Alright, give me another coffee."
"Last one for the road?"
Denzel kept his eye on the two men as he went around the end of the bar and reached for the wall phone. It was an old salvaged thing, dating back from way before Meteor; it even used cables and everything. Maybe it would work when the PHS network didn't.
Ring, ring --
"Yes? Who is this?"
Denzel's first reaction was an intense wave of relief. Elmyra's curious voice was like a reminder that he wasn't alone, that he had adults out there who he knew for sure were ready to drop everything to help, and her easy tone said she had heard of no hint of foul play about his adoptive parents.
His second reaction was to remember that, tough as she was, Elmyra had never been a fighter; that she lived several hours away, too far to do anything in time but worry; and that she was getting older and didn't need the stress. "Hey! It's Denzel," he said, smoothing the tense suspicion out of his voice.
Turned out she'd gotten Tifa's message by early morning, but only two hours later had been just as unable to leave Denzel a message of her own to set a pickup time and place. Danged PHS network, and wasn't it a good thing that he had thought to call her on the landline. Denzel decided not to mention Zack. She hadn't.
He hung up, slightly reassured -- at least the Wutai thing was legit, weird as it seemed. But the situation was still weird in general, and that Tifa hadn't told Elmyra she had people over was just plain strange; Elmyra would have been happy to come check on them and probably even cook them a good meal, standing in for the host Tifa couldn't be at the moment. Elmyra had firm opinions on how to treat your guests, and abandoning them in your house as you wandered off wasn't it.
"So? How did it go?"
Denzel twitched a little, even though he'd seen Zack drift closer. The man kept facing the room, allowing Denzel to stand almost at his back.
The talk with Elmyra had contributed to relax him. But he didn't want to let Zack off the hook yet. "How do you know Tifa?" he asked, bypassing Zack's question.
"I don't really, I know Cloud. Only met her once at Nibelheim, way back in the day."
"... So you don't know her. So why the heck are you working at her bar?" He gave a critical look to the mess that was starting to pile up by the sink and the open floor-level cupboards just waiting to trip a hurried barkeeper. "Because you probably shouldn't. Just saying."
Zack gave a laugh that sounded vaguely embarrassed to Denzel's ears, and then promptly changed the subject. "Listen, I'd be happy to answer all of your questions, but Tifa and Cloud should be the ones to tell you what's really going on here."
"Because you don't know what I'm big enough to hear?"
"No." Zack turned to face him, leaning back on the counter with his hands on the edge, and for once he looked totally serious. "Because if I tell you, you'll think I'm bugfuck crazy."
Denzel met his eyes for a few seconds head on.
Something big then. Something really weird. Cloud was a weirdness magnet, so Denzel had a hard time deciding what kind of weird Zack was. There were so many possibilities. At the very least it was much more convincing than 'Oh, I'm just his totally mundane drinking buddy from Kalm'.
He sighed. He wasn't going to learn more right away, and at least he was now pretty convinced that Zack wasn't dangerous to him for the moment, and perhaps at all. The guy hadn't kidnapped Denzel yet, at least, and -- well. He felt sincere, even in -- especially in -- his refusal to say more.
Denzel refused to pass for easily won over, though.
"Not to destroy your illusions," he drawled, "but I already think you're bugfuck crazy."
"...Ouch."
"Oh well, I'll show you how to hold a bar properly. Do you even know how to do mixed drinks?"
Zack blinked for a second, and then grinned in honest delight. Denzel reminded himself firmly that he was harder to charm than that. Really, he was.
"Well, mostly the ones I like."
"Great." Denzel rolled his eyes and threw him an unconvinced sideway look. "Budge over. Only got a few hours to make sure you don't embarrass us."
"Aw, phooey." Raking a hand through his hair, Zack seemed torn between laughter and awkwardness. "...Denzel..."
And that was the 'I'm sorry, kid, Santa Klaus doesn't really exist' tone. "What?" Denzel snapped, voice coming out more annoyed than planned. It was just that after a whole chat being treated more or less as an equal it rankled to hear that too-gentle, careful note.
Zack opened his mouth, seemed to consider, closed it again. Watched him. Denzel scowled, chin held high.
"... Alright, alright. But can you do me a favor? Can you set up your meeting with Elmyra elsewhere? Don't have to tell me where, just not around here. Tifa is going to kill me hard enough for not telling you to leave right away, I don't really need the cherry on top of her killing me for Aeris's mom too."
Denzel's brow furrowed. He knew who Aeris had been, of course -- Elmyra had pictures, and Tifa had told him a few Avalanche tales -- but no one referred to Elmyra like that very often anymore.
"If I ask why, you're gonna tell me I've got to ask Tifa, aren't you?" He gave the guy a cynical look.
"Yeah, sorry." A sigh. "Okay, me and my girlfriend -- well, there was a third guy with us, and he's kind of... Uh." An uncomfortable look. "Long story very short Cloud and Tifa don't like the idea of you being around him and he's got nowhere to go, and... Okay. He's upstairs. So if you want clothes and stuff, I'll have to get them for you, because Cloud'll have my balls for earrings if I let you in any farther than this."
... Oh. That was all?
"He a recovering druggie or something?"
"Ooor something, yeah."
Denzel narrowed his eyes. "A clone?"
Zack fumbled the glass he was half-heartedly drying and narrowly managed to rescue it before it hit the ground. Yeah, with reflexes like that, like hell he was a normal Joe off the street.
"-- uh. Oh god." And cue laughter, but not the 'this is hilarious' kind. More like ahahafuuuck. "No. Not a clone."
Denzel's eyes narrowed some more.
"And that's enough for now -- no, seriously, it is. Call Elmyra to set up that meeting before she leaves, and then I'll get you clothes for the trip -- and if you nag me again I swear I'll get you nothing but girl clothes."
Denzel huffed, crossing his arms, and glared at the finger Zack was pointing at his face. This time he looked firm and determined. Denzel weighed him up... no, pushing wouldn't get him any farther. But he was going to be with Cloud and Tifa soon, and then he'd know. They better not even think of not telling him everything.
"Fine," he said, uncrossing his arms slowly. "Budge over. Time to see if you'll be worth anything as a bartender."
Next.
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Also, Zack is wonderful. You cannot know how happy I am to see this updated. XD
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Thank you, hon ^^
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This really cracked me up for some reason. I had this mental image of some little kid with big eyes and glasses and chocobo fluff for hair, socute >.>
I'd kinda forgotten about this story, but I like it. Denzel and Zack are awesome. :)
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I'd kinda forgotten about this story, but I like it.
Umm. Thanks? XDDDD;;
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(haha, his face when he learns about it. XD though denzel is different from cloud and company because the only threat he faced personally was the clones, not the real one -- strangely enough he's probably less biased against sephiroth than he would be against the trio)
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On a happier note, as I have absolutely nothing constructive to say on the previous, YAY RESTORE!!! ^_______^
Love so much right here--
--Denzel narrowed his eyes. "A clone?"
Zack fumbled the glass he was half-heartedly drying and only narrowly managed to rescue it before it hit the ground. "-- uh. Oh god." Laughter, but not the 'this is hilarious' kind. More like ahahafuuuck. "No. Not a clone."
I really like Zack interacting with Denzel, it has a good flavor to it. Charisma vs. Youthful Cynicism in a fight for the title! Aaaaand everybody wins, huzzah! *snerk*
Thank you, you just made my morning. ♥BIIIIG love♥
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Charisma vs. Youthful Cynicism in a fight for the title! Aaaaand everybody wins, huzzah! *snerk*
*gigglesnort*
Thank you, lovely. ♥♥♥
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Glad you like Denzel's paranoia. XD It's so fun to write, especially when he knows it's not really founded.
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