It had been a surprise for Yuffie when he sat down beside her.

'Cause he was lucky.

He never seemed to get sick on flights, Yuffie thought, though he claimed he did. He just…stood there, occasionally offering Yuffie advice on how to get rid of airsickness.

If he had ever been airsick in his life, she thought, she was his wife, with six kids and fifteen grandchildren.

So when he approached, looking pale, bright blond hair long and dulled by the recent rain, her heart began to pound.

"You OK?"

He nodded, gulping once or twice. There were huge bags under his eyes that seemed practically purple.

"You positive?"

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Excuse me," Cloud said, bending his glorious golden-haired head over Yuffie's pet bucket.

Yuffie gulped.

Cloud looked up, wiping his lips. A smile tugged at the corner of those intense, perfect eyes. Yuffie liked it.

"Good sign."

"Why?"

"Because," Cloud smiled, "I only ever get airsick when I'm not nervous."

"You mean-"

"I'm positive we can pull through. But…I still wish I was dead."

Yuffie looked at the mildly apologetic look on his fascinating face, even if it looked rather ill. She swallowed.

"Hey, Cloud. Ever wanted fifteen grandkids?"