[She widens the space between them, and maybe it’s instinct — that teasing animal cruelty — that has him wanting to step forward to null it. But Sephiroth displays a mote of self-control in remaining still, unmoving where he is of now, in an example that will unlikely repeat itself in the next few moments.

He considers her with a cant to his head. His predator’s eyes add a strange glow to the planes of his features, lightly awash with that telltale, mako green.]

Herbs? [What a mundane notion, to risk the danger of the Cwyld-infected and, ironically, the interest of the Monsters who might seek refuge beyond the city walls so that they can let their instincts exist unchecked. She is flirting with danger without even knowing it — this amuses him, entices him to offer what she might not have been outwardly seeking, but has found all the same.]

You take a risk coming out here just to look for herbs. Didn’t I warn you about the creatures in the Wilde that might take an interest in someone unescorted?

[Case in point: the silver sheen of Masamune moves, glints, and Sephiroth has moved it from the line of his back. He holds it out before him, that impossibly long curve of steel now starkly present, demanding attention. Its length glides past her; practically entraps her on one side.]

I think you should practice defending yourself; in case trouble does come your way.

[Somehow, trouble might already be here in the form of a SOLDIER, a swordsman, a Harpy with calamity in his veins.]