That evening, as was his custom, T'vor met with Lord Sephiroth to talk--not necessarily about anything in particular, but because the two of them were as close a pair of freinds as anyone you might find, and their duties often kept them both quite busy during the day. Most everyone was in bed by now, save for the pilots and crewmen whose shifts were at night, and the evening found the two of them sitting together in the rec room, talking in hushed tones that are common to people who converse at night, as if the sound of their voices would wake someone nearby. Both of them were dressed for bed, lounging casually on a sofa in pajamas and bantering with one another like brothers. After a while, there was a lull in the conversation.
"What time do you think?" The young lord asked the tall man.
"Hmm. Hard to tell in space. I reckon it's probably just past midnight, though."
Sephiroth frowned. 
"I'm surprised at you, you're usually exhausted by now."
T'vor grimaced. "I know. I don't sleep well any more. The atmosphere is tense, and it's getting to me. I'll relax once we land."
"You worry too much."
"Maybe I make up for that that you don't worry enough." T'vor smirked at his jibe.
"Of course I worry. You know that."
"Yeah, I know."
"Hey T'vor, remember that one time you snuck into the palace' private quarters..."
"Hmm...which time was that? I recall doing that several times, because you wanted to sneak down to the kitchens to swipe food, and I was worried you'd hack it up."
"That time when you snuck in and then you got spotted by a palace guard, and they thought you were a spy..."
"Oh yeah, I remember that. First and only time I ever slept in a prison cell. It reeked like bloody hellfire."
The two of them laughed quietly as they reminisced.