While he's standing there, facing the window, her shoulders slump and her eyes soften.

"Vincent."

For a second she's reminded of Cloud -- of the Cloud she's met here -- and her eyebrows knit together.

This is precisely the kind of behavior that would get Cid to call him depressing and it is depressing, but her heart goes out to him anyway.

What's left of Lucrecia can't, she's pretty sure, speak to him with true kindness. What's left of Lucrecia isn't alive.

She knows Vincent knows this. But on the other hand, he didn't really know exactly what happened to Lucrecia before they found her cave. He hasn't really had thirty years to mourn her death. Just thirty years to mourn the separation and what happened to him, she guesses.

It's still a little frustrating, though, the way he apologizes again and tries to turn things inward.

"You apologize for a lot more than you should. I'm your friend."

She knows very well how much people can keep pent up inside, and Vincent...

Despite appearances, he's worse than most.