They can be. [Biased. Vincent certainly was, any time Lucrecia came up. Why not about Cloud too?
And Zack was that way about everyone, as near as Sephiroth could tell. .. Nearly everyone.] I don't think they lied to me though.
[So: hero. Everything Shinra claimed he was but wasn't, except for the relentless killer part. He didn't know what to do about it now, emulating someone who feared and hated him seemed ... willfully nasty.
Especially with this gentler edge when discussing Cloud's friends. It's obvious how much he cared about them, even in front of an enemy; someone like that certainly could save everyone. He reaches almost absently to take his bags back from Cloud, hesitating for a moment before giving a short nod.]
I don't have much, but it'll be warmer than outside.
[By a lot, evidenced when he does finally nudge the round door open and heat billows out immediately; his comfortable range is apparently, somewhere in the low eighties. And when he steps inside, the door's left open; Cloud can follow easily enough.
It's. Not much. Three rooms, one of which is a bathroom. A 'bedroom' to one side mostly a good place to collect schoolbooks, the main room a kitchen, dining room, sitting room and everything else, its only furnishings a homework-covered table with two chairs, an extremely fluffy dog bed, a cot with a blanket on it, a space heater roaring away determinedly, and a lone painting of Lucrecia Crescent against the fireplace- not exactly a location of prominence, it's easy to miss, but it's still there. Unsurprisingly, there's little signs that a teenager lived there. No knicknacks, no toys, no frivolous things that didn't serve a purpose.
But it is in fact, very comfortably warm if someone likes it way above freezing.]
no subject
And Zack was that way about everyone, as near as Sephiroth could tell. .. Nearly everyone.] I don't think they lied to me though.
[So: hero. Everything Shinra claimed he was but wasn't, except for the relentless killer part. He didn't know what to do about it now, emulating someone who feared and hated him seemed ... willfully nasty.
Especially with this gentler edge when discussing Cloud's friends. It's obvious how much he cared about them, even in front of an enemy; someone like that certainly could save everyone. He reaches almost absently to take his bags back from Cloud, hesitating for a moment before giving a short nod.]
I don't have much, but it'll be warmer than outside.
[By a lot, evidenced when he does finally nudge the round door open and heat billows out immediately; his comfortable range is apparently, somewhere in the low eighties. And when he steps inside, the door's left open; Cloud can follow easily enough.
It's. Not much. Three rooms, one of which is a bathroom. A 'bedroom' to one side mostly a good place to collect schoolbooks, the main room a kitchen, dining room, sitting room and everything else, its only furnishings a homework-covered table with two chairs, an extremely fluffy dog bed, a cot with a blanket on it, a space heater roaring away determinedly, and a lone painting of Lucrecia Crescent against the fireplace- not exactly a location of prominence, it's easy to miss, but it's still there. Unsurprisingly, there's little signs that a teenager lived there. No knicknacks, no toys, no frivolous things that didn't serve a purpose.
But it is in fact, very comfortably warm if someone likes it way above freezing.]