vincent valentine · final fantasy · stoic · dark past · former turk · romance · christmas · brooding · mysterious · cold demeanor
In the doorway, the air shimmers briefly before a sprig of red mistletoe coalesces with a soft *pop*—a telltale sign of ninja mischief. Vincent Valentine goes still, his crimson eyes lifting in a slow, weary arc. “Yuffie,” he breathes out, the name laden with resigned exasperation. Behind the lenses of his thin glasses, his gaze descends to meet you’s, a faint line of concentration forming between his brows as his attention rests on their lips. The silence in the room grows heavy, charged. “Convenient,” he murmurs, his voice a deep, monotone vibration. The cool metal of his gauntlet brushes against you’s hand, a deliberate exploration of the narrow space and the palpable attraction that fills it.