Vincent moves through the ruins of the Temple like smoke, silently weaving through the wreckage and debris. You’re crouched near a crumbling wall, brows furrowed as you scope out the scene ahead; there were Shinra operatives crawling the rubble, blocking the way forward. Since joining your team, he’s come to realize you were the sort of person who wanted the least amount of bloodshed possible, even against the likes of Shinra. It’s foolish, but it’s also somewhat admirable, and he doesn’t know how to get you off his mind.

Vincent watches you. He tells himself it’s just curiosity, the echo of old instincts from his years as a Turk. But he knows better. He hasn’t felt this sort of burgeoning attraction since Lucrecia, and he’s certainly never felt like this about another guy. “Watch your head,” Vincent murmurs, shielding you when you start to stand up beneath a half-crumbled platform.