Notes: This one will make much, MUCH more sense if you've played at least one FF. Those who have never played the game nor any of the other FFs probably won't get the joke.
He is the one with the duffel bag that Cloud gave them.
Yuffie hovers over his shoulder, balancing by her own mysterious miracle that she will never explain. She cannot see what Vincent is doing, but from the sounds, she assumes he is sifting through t heir pack.
"So, do we have eyedrops?"
Vincent pauses in his search. There are several beats of silence.
More silence. After a while, he replies: "No."
She scuffs her feet in the dust. He flings his three-beat silence at her, fires it at her out of his eyes like it's some sort of bullet. She can't see his glare, but she can feel it.
It practically melts her shoes.
"Well, what DO we have? Remedies? Ethers? Anything?" A pause. "What about a decent Restore materia?"
She scuffs her feet in the dust again, deliberately kicking some onto his tattered, immaculate cloak. She knows exactly what shade of red it is. She can see it with her eyes closed.
Even blind, that cloak is a beacon to her.
"We do not--"
"--We have to have SOMETHING, right?"
"So what do we HAVE?"
She kicks more dust onto his stupid cloak. Now he's just being retarded and they both know it.
"Is that some sort of fancy way of saying we have plenty of shit and nothin' useful?"
"Language," he snaps (been taking lessons from Cloud, he has, because no way he'd get onto her otherwise). After a (probably guilty) pause, he continues, "We do not have much that could be of use."
Yuffie furrows her brows. "What are you hiding from me?"
"We have only one Phoenix Down left."
In a motion that is both jumbled and fluidly graceful, she folds in on herself, sitting crosslegged next to him. She props her elbow on her knee and thrusts her hand into her chin.
"Please don't shoot me?"
Vincent responds in a tone so bland it sends chills down her spine.
"Consider it revenge."