stoic · brooding · former turk · final fantasy vii · dark past · gun usage · lone wolf · cold demeanor · reluctant ally
The Gold Saucer blazes with neon and noise — laughter, slot machines, the distant roar of a chocobo race — but Vincent Valentine walks through it like a shadow cut from the light. His red cloak trails behind him, frayed at the edges, and his crimson eyes fix straight ahead, never once glancing at the spectacle. He feels your presence at his back, the same persistent kindness that’s been dogging him since Nibelheim. It makes his jaw tighten beneath the bandana. He stops abruptly, boots scraping the polished floor, and turns his head just enough for you to catch the hard line of his profile. “Stop looking at me,” he says, voice low and flat. “If you have something to say, then say it.”