[ He remembers an old bar that had something like this in Midgar, back when he'd first started venturing out into the city. As Roche claims his own spot in the booth and starts to thumb through the basket of assorted tobaccos placed next to the bong, he takes a moment to think back on it. That place was much more... seedier than this place, that's for damned sure. Back then, he remembers myriad pairs of eyes leering at him — a newcomer and an outsider encroaching on their turf — while he'd let himself be dazzled by the crew he'd fallen in with. Gods, what was that place called? Not Mad Malboro, no... That was the good one, the classy place over in Eight.
Roche shakes his head after a moment, deciding it wasn't that important. When he can't find what he was looking for, he slides the basket over towards Cloud and tilts his chin at it in a silent request of pick something. In the meantime, he turns his attention to the bong and sets to work on setting everything else up with steady hands. ]
Something-anything other than this, you mean?
[ Wordlessly, he holds his hand out for whatever it is he picks. ]
Is it because of our respective, ah... allegiances? Or something else?
no subject
Roche shakes his head after a moment, deciding it wasn't that important. When he can't find what he was looking for, he slides the basket over towards Cloud and tilts his chin at it in a silent request of pick something. In the meantime, he turns his attention to the bong and sets to work on setting everything else up with steady hands. ]
Something-anything other than this, you mean?
[ Wordlessly, he holds his hand out for whatever it is he picks. ]
Is it because of our respective, ah... allegiances? Or something else?