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In Midgar, April 8 is just your friggin' run-of-the-mill day. There ain't nothin' special about it at all, just like there ain't a fuck of a lot special about the city itself no more. Yeah, yeah, so he destroyed one of the city's sectors a few years ago without help, without remorse, without any of that shit. So what? It was just part of his job. Yeah, yeah, so thousands of people died. Kids. Families. Dogs and cats. Businesses ruined. Fuck it: they were the slums anyhow. Some days he's surprised he can still walk around his home town without gettin' shot at or knifed like his brother or that someone ain't stuffed a bomb in his helicopter or nothin', but they ain't done that and not a whole lot of people know it was him anyway. And all those people were gonna die anyhow, sooner or later. It was just their day.
That's what he tells himself anyhow. And it was a couple years ago and he tries not to think about all the damage a guy can cause just by followin' orders and puttin' his friggin' finger on a little red button. He'll never let on that's what he thinks about every friggin' day when he walks around this city of his, or that he had this little tiny ulterior motive for being the one to do it. He friggin' hated Sector 7, and he had his reasons.
None of 'em have shit to do with the cute-as-a-button lady at his side, and if he was any kind of a gentleman at all -- he ain't -- he'd be amused and happy at the wide-eyed innocence she's got written all over her face right now. Shit, a guy would think she never saw a city before a single day in her life. Maybe he ought to give this gentleman shit a nod. That'd be cool.
Wait! What the hell is he sayin'? That was close: he almost lost it there for a second.
"So. Chuck. Just another block till we get to my place. What do you think of the city so far?" Her pack's hangin' off his shoulder. He might not be a gentleman but he ain't asshat enough to make her carry her own shit around his city. "You see anything you want, let me know." His pockets are full of cash and he even cleaned his whole apartment in a way he didn't even do for Lara when he brought her here. Nah, he likes Charlie too much to do a half-assed job of it.
Besides, there might be pie.
That's what he tells himself anyhow. And it was a couple years ago and he tries not to think about all the damage a guy can cause just by followin' orders and puttin' his friggin' finger on a little red button. He'll never let on that's what he thinks about every friggin' day when he walks around this city of his, or that he had this little tiny ulterior motive for being the one to do it. He friggin' hated Sector 7, and he had his reasons.
None of 'em have shit to do with the cute-as-a-button lady at his side, and if he was any kind of a gentleman at all -- he ain't -- he'd be amused and happy at the wide-eyed innocence she's got written all over her face right now. Shit, a guy would think she never saw a city before a single day in her life. Maybe he ought to give this gentleman shit a nod. That'd be cool.
Wait! What the hell is he sayin'? That was close: he almost lost it there for a second.
"So. Chuck. Just another block till we get to my place. What do you think of the city so far?" Her pack's hangin' off his shoulder. He might not be a gentleman but he ain't asshat enough to make her carry her own shit around his city. "You see anything you want, let me know." His pockets are full of cash and he even cleaned his whole apartment in a way he didn't even do for Lara when he brought her here. Nah, he likes Charlie too much to do a half-assed job of it.
Besides, there might be pie.
