It wasn't that she didn't understand the need for money. Tifa was fairly certain she'd never look at a bun the same way again after how many she'd sold to pay off some debts. But she was still certain you could make cash in better ways than just killing whoever someone demanded you did.

"I'm not saying to drop everything in your life for Avalanche." She reassured while mixing a drink with vigor, the clinking of ice in a small bucket by her side, the nonexistent dull chatter that usually occupied the bar was nonexistent. The only patron being you, and the only server being her. She continued shaking the holder with more force as her brows knit together in thought as she looked you over. Things she'd never noticed before on you or that hadn't been there last time. Your knuckles were split and she wondered how many teeth you'd knocked out with them. Your visible skin held scars and she wondered how you'd attained them and how many you'd left other people with. Your stature seemed bolder, your shoulder broader and she wondered how many people had hired you as some kind of human guard dog. She'd known you before you became a mercenary and she couldn't help but feel like the person she knew had died and now she was staring at some husk of the person that she'd been friends with. "I just think it'd weigh easier on your conscious."