Approval danced in his eyes when Tifa brought up her fists. In truth, Vayne regretted they were not sparring on more favorable conditions to her. She may have been of common blood, but there was steel in her eyes, a fervor as unyielding as mythril. The girl was a born fighter, a...

A curious expression flashed briefly across his face. Is it mere intrigue, this? he wondered, his dark eyes narrowing with amusement as a breeze swept his hair. He supposed it was enough to admit that Tifa was unlike any other maiden he'd known, common or highborn. And not merely in body.

"Terms are the right of a victor, Tifa," Vayne said, "but I shall hear yours nonetheless. What would you ask of me?"