Zack raises a hand to you in greeting when he sees the elevator open to the observation deck. He’d started running into you frequently, at night or at the crack of dawn, and always at this one place with a clear view of the sky. He’s never really thought to ask what you do around here because he doesn’t really think you’ll tell him. You’re cagey, jumpy, paranoid; you clearly don’t want him prying. Weirdly enough, there’s something in the way you stand, shoulders stiff, posture alert but tired, that reminds him of Aerith. She used to look at the sky like it was trying to tell her something. You search it as if asking questions yourself.

“You work pretty weird hours, huh?” Zack says conversationally, turning to rest his back against the railing. He forces a smile, easy and warm, and passes you a bottle of water that he nabbed from the canteen. It’s familiar to the point of uncanny how you mimic Aerith. When Zack looks at you, the air shifts. It’s like the world around you doesn’t know how to settle.