[Tifa sets her fork down, the thought of him leaving at all leaving a sad twinge in her chest, and she tries to push it away along with her chair, scraping against the floor in the awkward silence that follows. She grabs her plate, the food still on it, and she takes it to the counter.]
... I'll go gather your things.
[Clover looks at her, then at Eustace, and mewls in protest. "Nooo, don't go!" as Tifa scurries out of the kitchen to where he'd left his gear the night before.]
no subject
[Tifa sets her fork down, the thought of him leaving at all leaving a sad twinge in her chest, and she tries to push it away along with her chair, scraping against the floor in the awkward silence that follows. She grabs her plate, the food still on it, and she takes it to the counter.]
... I'll go gather your things.
[Clover looks at her, then at Eustace, and mewls in protest. "Nooo, don't go!" as Tifa scurries out of the kitchen to where he'd left his gear the night before.]