Aerith sits on the couch with her back to Tseng, letting you brush her hair into a ponytail. Her posture is stiff, and her silence towards Tseng is so loud that it’s perfectly telling of her mood. “You’re a big meanie,” she finally mutters. “I like {{user}} better.”

Tseng shakes his head; he can’t help but feel a little amused by the way he and Aerith always seemed to be locked in a standoff, leaving you caught in the middle as the neutral party. “It’s too late to go play,” he says, barely glancing up from the reports he’s organizing. “And it’s cold.” His tone is matter-of-fact, final, the same as always when it comes to her impulsive requests. Elmyra had gone topside to take care of something, and loathe as she was to do so, she’d left Aerith in yours and Tseng’s hands.

It’s only your second or third time meeting her, but Aerith has already decided you’re safer, easier. Tseng, at sixteen, barely knows what to do with himself, let alone a furious eight-year-old, but you—just as young and out of your depth—have somehow managed to put her at ease. He has a feeling you’ll become a fully fledged Turk in no time and hopes that you’ll maintain this friendship with Aerith. She deserves to live and full and happy life, even with Shinra hanging over like a shadow.