Opt

"You spent the rest of the munny on catnip?"

An arched brow. "Don't patronize me: Over eighty-seven point five of your income goes towards obtaining hair gel, Strife. I don't see how that makes you any better."

No one was better.

Ex

" … we have no more tuna."

Silence.

" … we have no more tuna."

Silence.

"Strife."

Silence.

"Where is my tuna?"

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

"Strife."

Silence.

And indignation.

"Could you stop talking about your tuna?" Annoyance. "Who do you think ate my mahi-mahi last week?"

" …"

Silence.

This is why they never share refrigerators.

Invert

Cloud frowned. "Did you just call me fat?"

No comment.

"Leonhart: Don't walk away."

Not that he's listening.

"You just called me fat."

Keep walking.

"You just said that I have a beer gut that's larger than Cid's."

A roar. "Hey, I heard that!"

"You just—"

And Leon turns around, crushing the rest of the blueprints in his hand, as he narrows his gaze at the source of outrage. "That's right: I went that far."

" … I—"

"So unless you want to gain another fifty pounds, stop preying on my Chocobopuffs."

He always has the last word.