"You smiled," Sasha said, staring. "You're very handsome when you don't look like you're plotting someone's execution."
Cloud instantly stiffened, expression snapping back to stern military face.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you say things like that to every man you meet?"
She grinned mischievously. "Only the handsome ones."
"That," he said sharply, "is a highly dangerous habit. Especially in a place like the Bastion."
"Yes, Commander," she teases. "No flirting. Strictly survival."
Cloud eyed the ring. "You have guns in there as well?"
"Oh — tons," Sasha replied happily. She pulled out a rifle and a neat box of bullets, handing them to him. "Want one?"
Cloud looked between the gear and her face, as if weighing the moral implications.
"You're just giving this to me?"
"Of course. A weapon only matters in the right hands," Sasha said. "And yours are definitely the right hands."
