It would be a surprise that Yuffie wasn't woken by the sound of the front door opening and Sephiroth returning from his errands for the day.
With a paper bag hugged close, he made for the kitchen first with Spencer flitting around as he was wont to at around shoulder height. It had taken a great lot of getting used to, this permanent companion of his but all in all there were worse moogles to be paired with. At least he could hold somewhat intelligent conversations with his small pale pink companion.
As he set the bag down on the countertop and began to unpack the groceries he'd bought he caught it. It was quiet. The sound of Yuffie upstairs in quick-fire conversation with Mooshoo had become almost like a constant background noise ever since she had arrived. So when that wasn't there-
She could have gone out, doing who knows what else that he knew -and respected- wasn't any of his business and as Sephiroth took a quick look around the rooms downstairs this was his logical conclusion. He shouldn't be concerned at all. Just as he wasn't concerned at first when he found her kipping on the small couch. With a light 'hmph', he shook his head and turned away but then the sound of a staccato whimper earned him pause. Sephiroth half turned back to Yuffie and appraised her snoozing frame once more.
She was crying.
Almost every fiber of his being urged him to walk away, that it was extremely appropriate to stand there and watch yet Sephiroth found himself rooted to the spot with something akin to fascination. After a while, he couldn't help but start to feel sympathetic towards the young girl; it was jarring even for him to have been brought here, he could only hazard a guess how those who had many more people close to them were supposed to feel.
Maybe he'd have to ask her -gently, somehow- about it later, no; she'd never tell him. She hated him by principal and really when he thought about it -often with a frown- Sephiroth found that he couldn't blame her. It only deepened said frown to think about it like that. The War had been a shining trophy of accomplishment for him and now it was twisting in his gut, making him feel quite sick.
Late afternoon: Yuffie found asleep
With a paper bag hugged close, he made for the kitchen first with Spencer flitting around as he was wont to at around shoulder height. It had taken a great lot of getting used to, this permanent companion of his but all in all there were worse moogles to be paired with. At least he could hold somewhat intelligent conversations with his small pale pink companion.
As he set the bag down on the countertop and began to unpack the groceries he'd bought he caught it. It was quiet. The sound of Yuffie upstairs in quick-fire conversation with Mooshoo had become almost like a constant background noise ever since she had arrived. So when that wasn't there-
She could have gone out, doing who knows what else that he knew -and respected- wasn't any of his business and as Sephiroth took a quick look around the rooms downstairs this was his logical conclusion. He shouldn't be concerned at all. Just as he wasn't concerned at first when he found her kipping on the small couch. With a light 'hmph', he shook his head and turned away but then the sound of a staccato whimper earned him pause. Sephiroth half turned back to Yuffie and appraised her snoozing frame once more.
She was crying.
Almost every fiber of his being urged him to walk away, that it was extremely appropriate to stand there and watch yet Sephiroth found himself rooted to the spot with something akin to fascination. After a while, he couldn't help but start to feel sympathetic towards the young girl; it was jarring even for him to have been brought here, he could only hazard a guess how those who had many more people close to them were supposed to feel.
Maybe he'd have to ask her -gently, somehow- about it later, no; she'd never tell him. She hated him by principal and really when he thought about it -often with a frown- Sephiroth found that he couldn't blame her. It only deepened said frown to think about it like that. The War had been a shining trophy of accomplishment for him and now it was twisting in his gut, making him feel quite sick.