[The gesture sends her blood rushing right up into her cheeks and even then, she can't steal her eyes away from him.
She remembers the stir fry she had made for him, too—the very first meal she ever cooked for him, and how she had no idea back then why her flowers had made it into the dish. Tifa had been foolishly oblivious at that point to her own feelings, but the world hadn't, and it was like it was trying to tell him the things that she couldn't. In some ways, she's glad now that it did, and the memory attracts a fond laugh from her.]
Well, you could always send a message. Make sure people know what's yours...
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She remembers the stir fry she had made for him, too—the very first meal she ever cooked for him, and how she had no idea back then why her flowers had made it into the dish. Tifa had been foolishly oblivious at that point to her own feelings, but the world hadn't, and it was like it was trying to tell him the things that she couldn't. In some ways, she's glad now that it did, and the memory attracts a fond laugh from her.]
Well, you could always send a message. Make sure people know what's yours...