The crisp, cool night thunders with bass heard and felt clear outside the club’s scarcely populated parking lot. There, leaned against her swarthy black motorcycle, Tifa waits alone for a flaky friend with her arms folded and legs crossed; sporting a white tank, lustrous black short skirt and brown boots. 

Gasoline perfumes the air as she breathes deeply and begins to feel impatient. It’s not unlike Kisaragi to be tardy but it’s now going on an hour and the backdrop of laser lights and passing cars can only amuse for so long; so Tifa lowers her arms to her hips and her right hand retrieves the cell phone clipped to her belt. A thumb brings it to life and kisses her face with artificial light as she seeks to dial the unseen kunoichi. 

Then a female voice shouts in her direction but Tifa doesn’t recognize it as Yufi’s. She turns her head and her brown eyes behold a babe with a baseball bat; they appear to have issue with 7th Heaven’s esteemed hostess. The words have her blinking in confusion at assertion of crime; she hadn’t broken any laws except arguably loitering in a night club parking lot in front of her own vehicle. That would be a ridiculous charge indeed. Hence Tifa proposes innocence with dismissive undertone, saying, “I… think you’re mistaking me for someone else… “

She looks at her phone afresh, assuming the matter finished, and shoots Kisaragi an inquisitive text with one thumb.