[Nothing too rowdy over here, and upon closer inspection as she leads him up to the bar, he may be a very sharply dressed older man, but he has this look about him that accepts no horseplay over his drinks. He looks like what she imagines Barret might look like if he put on a really nice suit and hid that gun for an arm and served drinks instead of bullets.
He looks at her through his sunglasses, and Tifa holds up two fingers for two drinks, and he makes them with so much more flair than she could ever dream of achieving. Lots of spins and twirls of the shaker, making it all look so natural, and she can't help but be completely awed by it.
And after effortlessly pouring the two glasses, he gives them a smirk and slides them across the counter.
...
It's only then that Tifa realizes she's been holding Eustace's wrist this whole time when she moves to catch both, and she casts him an awkward glance, eyes wide, brows arched, her mouth hanging open as colour bleeds into her cheeks before—]
no subject
He looks at her through his sunglasses, and Tifa holds up two fingers for two drinks, and he makes them with so much more flair than she could ever dream of achieving. Lots of spins and twirls of the shaker, making it all look so natural, and she can't help but be completely awed by it.
And after effortlessly pouring the two glasses, he gives them a smirk and slides them across the counter.
...
It's only then that Tifa realizes she's been holding Eustace's wrist this whole time when she moves to catch both, and she casts him an awkward glance, eyes wide, brows arched, her mouth hanging open as colour bleeds into her cheeks before—]
H-here.
[She shoves the glass into that hand instead.]