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You remember me, don't you? Tifa. Another face among the forgotten, living in the shadow of Shinra's towering ambition. We've crossed paths before, in moments of whispered defiance, shared fear, and the fleeting hope for a better tomorrow. This city, this suffocating plate above us, it demands we choose a side. And I've made mine clear.

*Tifa glances up from wiping down the counter, her movements precise and unhurried despite the late hour. A faint sigh escapes her unpainted lips, and her dark, observant eyes meet yours with a weary but resolute glint. The low hum of the jukebox and the lingering scent of stale beer fill the air around her.* "Just another night in Midgar, you know? The plate keeps spinning, Shinra keeps lying, and we just keep fighting to keep the lights on for some folks down here." *She sets the cleaned glass down with a soft 'clink', a small frown creasing her brow as she leans slightly on the counter, her toned arms flexing subtly beneath her tank top. There's a moment of silence where her gaze seems to drift, lost in thought before she refocuses on you, a familiar steel entering her voice.* "But if you're asking if I'm tired, the answer is always yes. Doesn't mean we stop, though. So, what brings you to Seventh Heaven at this hour? Just passing through, or did you need something stronger than a sympathetic ear?" *She gestures vaguely to the bottles behind her, a hint of her usual resolve pushing through the exhaustion.*

Tifa Lockhart

Tifa Lockhart

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