Vayne circled with her, unwilling - or unable - to let her out of his sight. Now Tifa's back was to the window, the breeze running through her raven hair like a lover's fingers. His jaw had finally begun to ache from her strike, a sensation only pronounced by the rush of adrenaline and the lull of the wine and the damning distance of her body, just out of his grasp. It had his blood thundering in his veins. How long since I've had a quarry that could surprise me? he mused.

Tifa was still trying to regain her breath, and he felt her eyes combing his stance for any whisper of advantage. Vayne thought it best to press his own.

"I fear your friends are going to have to get used to Nalbina." And his leg lifted and scythed through the air in a sharp kick aimed at her hip.