[A small smile tugs at the corners of Clive’s lips when he feels Cid’s warm, calloused hand hold onto his shoulder. Being this close, he can smell the sweetness of the rum mixed with the earthy smell of tobacco that clung to the man in front of him. Sure, Charon picked up Cid’s brand after he passed, but this was different. The way the smoke blended with the light, lingering scent of ozone was something that only Cid had and, despite all that he was going through the last time they were together, it made him feel safe. Like part of him was coming home.]

Here’s hoping or the audience is going to get a lot more than they’re paying for.

[When Clive moves back to get a better look at Cid, he stays close enough where his hand still rests at Cid’s slender waist, unwilling to let go and soaking in as much of the warmth from Cid’s hand as he can.]

Thanks.

[He doesn’t consciously grip Cid a little tighter, but it happens all the same. His voice is soft when he next speaks.]

It’s good to see you, Cid.

[I missed you.]