This is what I, with my limited knowledge of FF7, have been able to produce. I want to write something longer, but I think I'll have to wait around for inspiration to strike.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or placenames depicted herein, and I am deriving no money from this work of fiction.
Enough was a word Rude liked; it meant not too much and not too little. Enough, he reasoned, could be another word for perfect.
He had a habit of defining people in five words or less, of finding the words that was their truth; it was something to do when the office-days dragged on and the pile of paperwork grew too tall. After some years, he had become quite good at it.
Tseng was duty, or honour when the situation demanded. Reno was suicide king if only for the Sunday mornings when there was never enough booze and he had slit his wrists so many times that the skin ought to be all scar tissue. Scarlet was just that, the colour of blood and sin and nail polish. Reeve was dreamer, caught up in Utopian vision of the better world. Heidegger was dog, for if there was ever a dog of the military, he was it.
But now he was stumped; he had met someone who defied definition.
Elena, the blonde stand-in for Reno when the plates were dropping like flies, was so shifting that even he could not file her away with five words or less. She was happy, sad, bubbling and eager and utterly brainless, as far from practical as could be found, the very image of a dumb blonde.
But she sent her suits to the dry-cleaners and paid extra for the blood without batting an eyelash, was as sure a shot as Tseng was, and never so much as screamed when the bullets tore her shoulder. She loved coffee but abhorred the taste of tea.
"Thank you Rude," she smiled her sparkles and glitter smile as he handed her a mug of coffee.
She defied definition, but for now, she was enough.