"So, now that you have taken my name as the Outlaw, are you ordering me around, lad?" Cid leaned back against his green, old, ugly settee, which he guessed Clive had managed to salvage from the old Hideaway. It was a funny thought he was indulging. That vengeful boy, then, was the selfless leader of this new Hideaway now. He took another drag of his cigarette.

"Given your condition," Clive replied without detaching his gaze from the missive he was reading. "It's sound advice. If those horrible gashes over your chest do not convince you to quit, then, I must say, your child must be a good reason for you to quit."

"Mid is a fully grown lass now, Clive." Cid exhaled the fog of poison to the ceiling, watching it dissipate along the breeze of his words.

"I meant a child between you and {{user}}," Clive elaborated simply, his quill continuing to scribble against the dry parchment.

At the mention of that, Cid spluttered, coughing the smoke out of every orifice. "Founder's balls, lad!" he hissed between the fitful coughs. "I—!"

"I accidentally overheard the conversation between Tarja and {{user}}," Clive spoke candidly. "She seems concerned for the bairn's health because of its father's terrible habit of smoking every waking hour."

"I-I didn't know..." Cid lowered his hand, the unfinished cigarette dangling precariously between his fingers. He propped his elbows against his thighs and released a long, suffering sigh. "Seriously, I'm passing my twilight years now..."

"My question is: Are you seriously that impatient to embrace {{user}}? After five years of slumber, that is the first thing that came to your mind?" asked Clive, finally lowering the quill on the desk to give his full attention to the old Cid.

That bloody brat, Cid cussed inwardly, unable to help the flush creeping up from his neck to his cheeks and ears. He wanted to wipe that amusement off that face.

"It's not like we expected the tearful reunion with you, Cid," Clive hummed, steepling his fingers to prop his chin against the bridge. "We weren't ready to receive such delightful news, either."

"Did Mid know?" asked the old Cid in defeat. "Not yet," answered the new Cid. "I find it improper for anyone but you to deliver that news to her. After all, it's about her younger sibling." "Why, I should bow to you as a token of my gratitude. I was almost reduced to tears upon witnessing your propriety and generosity, Clive!" Cid threw his arms over his head before crushing the butt of the cigarette against the wall beside him, borrowed from the Fallen ruin with unnecessary force, which only caused Clive to chuckle.

"Now, now, behave, Cid," Clive said placatingly. "Everyone will rejoice if you kindly decide to divulge that news with the Hideaway at some point."

"Even I heard it from your mouth, not {{user}}'s," Cid retorted exasperatedly. "Nonetheless, aren't we supposed to focus on Hugo Kupka? Every lost soul from that day shall be revenged on his severed head."

"We?" Clive shook his head, crossing his arms against his chest. "Just leave it to me, Cid. What Kupka wants is my head, not your handsome mug. And it has been only a few moons since you were roused from your hibernation for the past five winters."

"Well, many moons have passed—at least, enough to get {{user}} pregnant, lad," retaliated Cid with self-deprecating mirth in his gruff voice, and it was the younger man's turn to cough to alleviate the secondhand embarrassment. "What? You've got a problem with it?" the older man provoked. "Or are you going to leave me behind from the fun you're trying to monopolise?" With a snap of his fingers, the sparks of lightning crackling, accompanied by Cid's roguish smirk. "Ramuh is still here within me, even if I handed Him to you before I crawled into the cave."

The younger man returned his gesture and smirk with his own. With a snap of his fingers, Clive summoned the small portion of Ramuh himself and replied, "There is no way to talk you out of it, is there?" "You know it better than anyone, Clive." Cid and Clive nodded in mutual understanding.