#bigbrawl

Another day, another mountain of design work to conquer. That didn’t take into account the meetings she would have to attend, the errands she would inevitably have to run herself for security reasons, and the other irritations (read: interruptions from Heidegger since he apparently thinks pestering her is part of his job description) that would, inevitably, complicate her day. That never-ending stress was one of the prices she paid to be at the top, but the power and security that she got in exchange made it all worth it.... or so she had to remind herself more and more frequently these days.

Scheisse.

A sigh was swallowed down with a swig of coffee before Scarlet set the steaming mug aside, green eyes turning to the schematics in front of her. The changes that were proposed for the MK-38 by Heidegger were... well. While she could see what he was going for, the execution of said idea was convoluted, to put it kindly. There was no need to add superfluous components to increase the penetration power of the rounds--a change in gunpowder composition would do the trick. Or, if that wasn’t enough, switching to a Mako-based propulsion method would suffice. That, at least, was an interesting thought experiment, one that had her pulling out a blank notepad to begin sketching out--

And the sound of a fist pounding at her office door had her letting out a sound of frustration under her breath. Of course she was being interrupted now! Hurriedly scribbling the essentials lest she forget this train of thought, she put her pen aside before raising her voice in a single-syllable response whose tone betrayed her irritation.

“Ja?”

Cid’s indignation and harsh words didn’t faze Tifa in the slightest, something he could thank said ‘little blond boy’ for. If anything? The barmaid looked bemused at his response, a chuckle leaving her as she stifled the urge to further muss the pilot’s hair. He had a decade on her, from what she knew--so why did she feel like she was the more mature one sometimes? Not that she’d change his rough-about-the-edges self for the world, but that didn’t mean that she wished he wasn’t so moody sometimes. Then again, considering how she knew that a lot of that moodiness was born of ShinRa’s actions... well, she couldn’t blame him for having them. 

It just meant that she needed to show him that she wouldn’t be deterred so easily.

“Judging by how that pyramid’s grown noticeably since the last time I checked on you, doing it again was the right call.”

The pugilist made her way further into the room, moving to lean against the wall--far enough away from that feat of alcoholic engineering to not be at risk to knock it over, but close enough that she could more easily meet his gaze.

“As for Cloud, he’s busy talking with Barrett and Nanaki about the Key of the Ancients.”

The mention of something connected to the Ancients dimmed the carmine deeps of her gaze--Aerith’s death was still an open wound on Tifa’s soul, one whose ache was more than capable of overwhelming her. A deep breath and the barmaid forced her focus to remain on the pilot. Taking care of him--even if it was just bringing him up to speed--was helping her as much as it would hopefully help him.

"Only if you want to be deathly scared." The main contributing factor to his 'stealthiness' is less so effort on his part and more so the fact that some humans limit the observance to their surroundings to their immediate eye-level. There has been too many occasion where his paws have almost been crushed underfoot.

His nose wrinkles as he steps past Cid and looks back at him. He can smell nicotine and cigarette ash clinging to the man's clothing like a second skin.