"Cloud." The names these southerners gave their sons. Vayne nodded curtly, buttoning the shirt as some semblance of calm returned to his face. He could chance looking at her now.

Vayne turned back to Tifa, and paced over slowly, hands empty at his sides. He stopped himself just shy of where the heat of her body might tempt him against his promise, and tilted his head down to look at her. For all the collected courtesy of his tone, he was not smiling.

"I will have my men bring you food and drink in the morning, and a Potion should you require it. Ask for a bath to be drawn and a change of attire brought to you, if you wish." He leaned closer, his voice gathering deadly softness. "You do not leave. You do not so much as think of leaving. If you are gone when I return, I will reap my retribution from your friend's flesh."