Tifa has no words for what's unfolding in front of her right now, her own look of surprise and confusion mirroring his, and she would recall that the script had made a point of there being a musical number if her mind hadn't struck a complete blank in the moment. Just as she finally opens her mouth to ask—to stop him from going any further, music swells in every corner of the room from nowhere and it interrupts her question before it can start, so loud that it drowns the thought out so that all she hears is his voice.
It's one that makes her heart flutter, and his words make the air around her teem with a warmth that boils over and almost bursts. She's nervous and afraid—Tifa has never had to sing quite like this in front of anyone before, nor has she had anyone sing to her like he is now, and the things he's saying... No, it's all part of the song, isn't it? Part of the script that's written on those pieces of paper with its corners tattered and torn on the table in her room.
She wants to argue and to fight against them, but there's something in the back of her head that tells her it isn't quite her turn yet.
So, all she can do is allow him the moment and to hear what Romeo has to say, even if it's Eustace's hand pressed to her cheek. And when he gives her a tug, she can feel her feet carrying her across the room in a sort-of dance, twirling until she crashes into him. The music halts when she looks up at him, and little lights begin to form and drift around them, but Tifa pushes herself away, forced to step back like every step is already written for her, as the music picks up once more.]
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Tifa has no words for what's unfolding in front of her right now, her own look of surprise and confusion mirroring his, and she would recall that the script had made a point of there being a musical number if her mind hadn't struck a complete blank in the moment. Just as she finally opens her mouth to ask—to stop him from going any further, music swells in every corner of the room from nowhere and it interrupts her question before it can start, so loud that it drowns the thought out so that all she hears is his voice.
It's one that makes her heart flutter, and his words make the air around her teem with a warmth that boils over and almost bursts. She's nervous and afraid—Tifa has never had to sing quite like this in front of anyone before, nor has she had anyone sing to her like he is now, and the things he's saying... No, it's all part of the song, isn't it? Part of the script that's written on those pieces of paper with its corners tattered and torn on the table in her room.
She wants to argue and to fight against them, but there's something in the back of her head that tells her it isn't quite her turn yet.
So, all she can do is allow him the moment and to hear what Romeo has to say, even if it's Eustace's hand pressed to her cheek. And when he gives her a tug, she can feel her feet carrying her across the room in a sort-of dance, twirling until she crashes into him. The music halts when she looks up at him, and little lights begin to form and drift around them, but Tifa pushes herself away, forced to step back like every step is already written for her, as the music picks up once more.]