[ The harpy's forgotten. (Mostly, anyway; she'll likely feel bad about it later.) It's not about them or about anything else, she just wants to get to Cloud. There's an urgency in his voice that she's used to, the sort of thing that communicates his worry long before anything else, even when he never says the words.

Funny, the thing he's usually worried about is her and the others, after all.

But through the wriggling, the wandering crowd, she feels his hand clamp down on her wrist and it's all the insistence she needs to keep moving, to nudge her way through a few more people as he pulls her along and to the stalls, around, through the side and out the back, where they're free from the press of bodies and out of the thick of things. Tifa sighs, a little dramatic, with relief. And that relief only grows when she finally, finally gets a look at Cloud.

He's here. He's all right.

For him, she manages a smile, just like always, even if she can feel the concern in the way he holds her wrist and doesn't let go. ]

Shouldn't I be asking you that? I didn't realize you were here too. When did you get here? Are you okay?

[ She...hasn't answered any of his questions. Instead, her eyes fall down to his hand on her wrist, and she lifts her own to cover his. ]

Hey, it's okay. I got here a few days ago. It's been a little crazy since then. I'm fine, though.

[ There, better. ]

You?