#justcallmex

☆ So they knew about the hideout. Rumors spread through whispers of the town, after all. About a team of terrorists wanting to set right what would otherwise bring the demise of this planet itself. Perhaps they had been reckless in allowing infamy turn to grandeur so as to shake the upper plate. But it was a calculated risk to have tension near the ShinRa buildings so as to make it easier when they did strike. Paranoia bred weakness, after all. 

☆ “The head of ShinRa?” She repeated, perhaps a tad too urgently. But it was a touchy subject for most around these parts. Especially when an underground hideout lurk beneath these very floorboards. Her composure settled itself soon enough, for there was little evidence for what this person claimed. 

☆“I think I can manage the screwdriver, but answers all depend on what kind of questions I’m given.” A communal watering hole where diverging paths may find solitude. But the bar was as much a hub for information as it was a momentary reprieve. Locals spilled gossip as tongues loosened with drink, yet what Tifa found more interested were the gatherings called on by facade of simple bar chatter. The exchange of topics, the discussion divulging more about the city than the city itself could ever reveal. Yes, when the sectors had been established so many years ago, this was what the bar did before it all came crashing down.

☆ She gave no pause upon seeing more of the visage beneath cloak. There was no judgement, for all had come seeking haven in her drink in the past. Why should this moment be any different? She nodded her head subtly and brought out laminated paper, cursive font in swoops above and plain text beyond. 

☆“See?” Her head tilted, dark tresses a cascade down her shoulder.