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Lost Stars

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Tifa’s bar was the only good bar in Edge. Or so Cid told himself. It was really the only bar in Edge right now, but there could be twenty different bars and his ass would still be parked on this bar stool each evening. Construction was going well and Cid was more than happy to lend a hand out here. He'd sure as hell wasted enough time resting his ass in Rocket Town so it felt good to be doing something useful. Between the WRO and construction, having some downtime with a refilling glass and a pack of smokes was heaven. That it was in her presence made it better. That he couldn't take his eyes off of her was another.

It was, as he told himself countless times over, pathetic. Even if she was available, that didn’t mean he had a chance in hell. Yet here he was every night. Cid flicked the ash off his cigarette and found his gaze lingering once more, even as the patrons around him started to slowly make their way out and leaving empty glasses and filled ashtrays in their wake. As always, he started to help clean, gathering glasses and setting them on the bar while dumping out the ashes.

The first time he did this, she insisted he didn’t have to, but he told her it was no problem. Insisted it wasn’t. He was just helping out a friend and goddamn Tifa, you do enough, let me help. She hadn’t questioned him since and he preferred it that way.