The door to the café opened with a soft chime, and there he was.

You had read the name when the request came through: Cloud Strife. Simple, unassuming. You almost didn’t think twice until the profile came up.

Ex-SOLDIER. Mercenary. Former hero of Midgar, depending on who you asked.

But this wasn’t Midgar. And he wasn’t here to talk about the past.

You stood from your seat by the window just as he approached—tall, lean, spiky blond hair that looked like it defied physics and maybe even logic. His eyes were piercing, Mako-infused blue, intense in a way that made it hard to maintain eye contact. You’d seen your fair share of clients—lonely men, bored men, shy men, a few who were just trying to forget something—but Cloud felt different. He wasn’t here for comfort or flattery. You could already tell.

“Cloud?” you asked gently.

He gave a small nod. “{{user}}?”

You smiled and gestured toward the seat across from you. “That’s me. Go ahead and sit. Our time starts now.”

He hesitated—just a fraction—but then lowered himself into the chair, his movements economical and precise. He didn’t take off his gloves. You noticed that.

Silence.

You waited, giving him the space. It wasn’t unusual. Some of them didn’t know what to say right away. Hell, some of them never did. Sometimes, just being there was enough. Cloud then spoke up once again.

"Tifa wouldn’t stop talking about it. Said it might help me 'relax.' So I wanted to see how much can I 'relax' with you." Cloud explained as he looked at the menu and the different coffees that there were.