A slight chuckle left the young woman’s lips as she brushed hair away from her eyes, so she could lift her chin upward as to inspect the sky again. “Now whatever did the sunlight do to you, Mister? Or maybe it tanned you so red and hot that’s why you can’t stand it.”
Scoffing, he turns away. She has her answer; such coyness is unappreciated, especially at his embarrassment. “It existed,” he replies. Perhaps a follow-up question to Tifa would be a cheap place to buy sunglasses. And possibly sunscreen, if it did not utterly reek.
