![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
FFVII: Mercenary
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: He doesn't remember who he worked for last week. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_on_demand.
"You did well," the anonymous fat man tells him. His face is red, the gil notes he hands over damp with sweat. Cloud shows no disgust.
"I did my job," he says, simply. He pats his buster sword almost absently, leaning back against the wall. In a way, he thinks, he's no different to the girl a little way further down the street. She displays her body as openly as he does his sword, and he imagines she takes as little pleasure in her work as he in his. The fat man follows his glance and smirks.
"Interested in her, are you? Guess you have the money for it, now."
Cloud's tone is as flat as ever -- flatter, maybe. "Right now, I'm interested in finding some new work."
The fat man laughs, nervously, and then clears his throat. "I'm sure you'll keep quiet about the work you've done for me."
"Is that a threat?"
"Of course not!" The man says, going, if possible, even redder. Cloud notes the trembling of his hands, and wonders if he's really such a threatening figure. Or whether he simply hit too close to the mark.
"I'm a mercenary," he says, quietly, pulling away from the wall and turning his back. "I don't remember who I worked for last week."
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: He doesn't remember who he worked for last week. For
fic_on_demand."You did well," the anonymous fat man tells him. His face is red, the gil notes he hands over damp with sweat. Cloud shows no disgust.
"I did my job," he says, simply. He pats his buster sword almost absently, leaning back against the wall. In a way, he thinks, he's no different to the girl a little way further down the street. She displays her body as openly as he does his sword, and he imagines she takes as little pleasure in her work as he in his. The fat man follows his glance and smirks.
"Interested in her, are you? Guess you have the money for it, now."
Cloud's tone is as flat as ever -- flatter, maybe. "Right now, I'm interested in finding some new work."
The fat man laughs, nervously, and then clears his throat. "I'm sure you'll keep quiet about the work you've done for me."
"Is that a threat?"
"Of course not!" The man says, going, if possible, even redder. Cloud notes the trembling of his hands, and wonders if he's really such a threatening figure. Or whether he simply hit too close to the mark.
"I'm a mercenary," he says, quietly, pulling away from the wall and turning his back. "I don't remember who I worked for last week."