"Word is on the street that there's a new face in Sector Five, real strong fella. Strong enough to singlehandedly whip the Toad King's butt and save the kids' secret hideout. He's almost impossibly cool, to boot. All the orphans at the Leaf House want to be just like him," he mentions casually, like he's bringing up the nonexistent weather they have beneath the plates.

"Well, he sounds like a good guy. Anyone who'd not only protect those orphans, but also inspire them? Gotta be a hero in my book."

Cloud Strife isn’t entirely immune to flattery. The corner of his mouth curls up, like he’s just heard something that made his day. He folds his arms over his chest, an intersection wiry muscle and gloved fingers tapping staccato against a curled bicep. Playing it cool, like they both don’t know exactly whose name Biggs has circled out with a red felt tip.

“’s not that big a deal. Just another page out of the book-- lessons for life on the ground floor.” He’s fidgeting, rolling a crumpled lump of an aluminum beer can along the underside of his boot and not looking at anyone in particular. Definitely not looking at Biggs right now. “A friend told me, ‘If you don’t look out for yourself, no one else will.’”