[The longer the conversation goes on, the more subdued she seems to get. All business now.] And I didn't remember you before I got the memory, so...maybe you haven't gotten one with me in it, yet? I don't know how it works. It threw me for a loop.
We were in a bar, and I was trying to get you to stay. I was desperate, I think. That's how it — how it felt. I'm not sure if you could tell. I told you that we were childhood friends, [she knows this part isn't true, and she clings to it.] and I remembered, we made some a promise as kids, but...
[Ugh, she doesn't want to say this part, but she thinks it's important, that he should know.] I don't know if I...if she was being straight with you, about being friends before. It didn't feel right.
[Cloud's intonation remains the same, though it is laced with more seriousness than usual, as well. Coupled with a curiosity that's hard to dismantle completely.]
Childhood friends...?
[But maybe she wasn't being truthful about it? But why would she lie?]
That's weird, though. It doesn't... I mean, wouldn't I know if we weren't friends before? Why lie about it?
...They used to live in a village, by a well. And...the bar, there were words scratched on the counter, but they were all garbled. He said someone's name, and that was garbled too.
There were a lot of words like that. It was like the memory didn't want me to learn them yet.
[So hard to put together in his head. He wishes suddenly that he could see what she saw; that he could experience and hear it the same way Tifa did. He's relying only on his imagination, which has no point of reference.]
I don't know what to say. Am I... supposed to start remembering all of this, too, now? And what does it all mean?
[Maybe, she thinks, she should've waited on this. But it had been too strange to keep to herself.]
I can't say for sure. It'd be odd if you're in my memories, and I'm not in yours. That would make things even weirder. I have a childhood friend. I've lived here my whole life...
[...] I don't know what it means. But if I figure it out, I'll be sure to tell you.
[What else is he supposed to say to that? He can't demand answers from her, when it's so obvious that she has none. But he's left with a multitude of questions, an unsatisfactory feeling of having been presented with a hugely incomplete narrative, and nothing more.
It isn't her fault. But it is a little mind-boggling, vacillating on the edge of frustrating.]
That's fair. I haven't had any of these... memory things yet, but if I do, I think it would make sense to, well. To let you know. Right?
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no subject
[The longer the conversation goes on, the more subdued she seems to get. All business now.] And I didn't remember you before I got the memory, so...maybe you haven't gotten one with me in it, yet? I don't know how it works. It threw me for a loop.
We were in a bar, and I was trying to get you to stay. I was desperate, I think. That's how it — how it felt. I'm not sure if you could tell. I told you that we were childhood friends, [she knows this part isn't true, and she clings to it.] and I remembered, we made some a promise as kids, but...
[Ugh, she doesn't want to say this part, but she thinks it's important, that he should know.] I don't know if I...if she was being straight with you, about being friends before. It didn't feel right.
no subject
Childhood friends...?
[But maybe she wasn't being truthful about it? But why would she lie?]
That's weird, though. It doesn't... I mean, wouldn't I know if we weren't friends before? Why lie about it?
no subject
[That's been bothering her too.]
But you believed her. I'm not sure why.
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[To say the least.
Honestly, he doesn't even know what else to say at this point. He has a lot of questions, but he wonders just how much she can answer.]
What else do you remember?
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There were a lot of words like that. It was like the memory didn't want me to learn them yet.
no subject
[So hard to put together in his head. He wishes suddenly that he could see what she saw; that he could experience and hear it the same way Tifa did. He's relying only on his imagination, which has no point of reference.]
I don't know what to say. Am I... supposed to start remembering all of this, too, now? And what does it all mean?
no subject
[Maybe, she thinks, she should've waited on this. But it had been too strange to keep to herself.]
I can't say for sure. It'd be odd if you're in my memories, and I'm not in yours. That would make things even weirder. I have a childhood friend. I've lived here my whole life...
[...] I don't know what it means. But if I figure it out, I'll be sure to tell you.
no subject
[What else is he supposed to say to that? He can't demand answers from her, when it's so obvious that she has none. But he's left with a multitude of questions, an unsatisfactory feeling of having been presented with a hugely incomplete narrative, and nothing more.
It isn't her fault. But it is a little mind-boggling, vacillating on the edge of frustrating.]
That's fair. I haven't had any of these... memory things yet, but if I do, I think it would make sense to, well. To let you know. Right?
If you don't mind it.
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[A weak little laugh.]
I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you out of nowhere.
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[That much is said with quickness, with certainty.]
I want to know. Even if it's confusing and a little disturbing, I'm glad you told me.