Public Opinion [open]

The smoke from the end of his cigarette lifted and melded with the steam leaking from the pipe on the wall beside him. Alleys tended to be the only places he could get away from the crowds, lower his hood without being hounded by the mostly faceless topsiders. Mostly faceless. The side-eyed glances at his scars always stuck with him.

The flickering light from the dying bulb above him signaled it was time to go. Leonhardt held the last drag of smoke in his lungs as he searched one, two of his pouches before pulling out and a small metal case to store the cigarette butt, the hiss signaling the extinguishing of the ember. He exhaled as he raised his hood, and the light finally surrendered to the dark. It had done its last service, and Leonhardt was grateful.

Stepping out into the streets, the smell the car exhaust and liquor quickly replaced the smell of tobacco. Loveless Avenue, the heart of Sector 8. It was unmistakeable. Only came alive at night and half the people where wouldn’t even remember it. What he would remember was the chime signaling the awakening of the Shin-Ra Broadcast System, the strange almost robotic tone of the female announcers, and the voice of the monster-in-disguise that sat at the top of the world. It all made his blood run cold then hot.

It was time to go. Despite the desire to escape, Leonhardt knew he wouldn’t. The broadcast would play on every TV and radio station, as well as every megaphone Shin-Ra painstakingly installed on every street corner. Like it or not, he was going to be present for this propaganda.

With a sigh, Leonhardt slowed down. There was no point in rushing. His heavy footfalls lessened and eventually stopped as he took a moment to recollect himself... right in front of a crowd that had gathered at the front of some shop. It wasn’t important to him, but he would feel morbid curiosity building within.

He knew what they were watching, and against his better judgement Leonhardt would join them. Little bit little, he made his way to the front, purposefully attempting to interrupt and obscure as much as possible from as many as possible, garnering many complaints and insulting comments from those behind him in the crowd. Good. The more eyes on him the less there would be on Shin-Ra.

He couldn’t help the tightening of his jaw or the balling of his fists in his coat pockets. Every word was a lie. Every smile, every movement, all a one-man act to make him the good guy of his own story. The short duration of the announcement did little to assuage the roaring boil boil just under Leonhart’s skin. All he could do at this moment was suck his teeth.

The crowd was a mixed bag of emotions, none good. For all the luxuries Shin-Ra bestowed onto the people of Midgar, so many was tired of ‘increased security’. Everyone outside of Sector 5 that is, and the Slums would get the brunt of it all. He’d seen too many people be black-bagged on the street or in their homes, only to never be seen or heard from again. The thought made his heart ache.

"Doesn't look like you're much of a fan..."

The words were soft, barely a note above the din of the crowd. Something about it, however, was strangely... familiar?

"You okay?"

He turned his head slightly, enough for the hood to bend and give way so the two could have a semblance of eye contact. His eyes held a slight, dim green glow, the telltale sign of mako saturation, made more apparent by the shadow of his hood. The initial frustration was quickly replaced with nostalgia as he was greeted with eyes like the sun on a clear summer’s day.

“... Ophelie?”

The broadcast had ended, and was replaced with a series of several colored bars and a long, muffle tone, signaling the channel had gone off the air. Approximately, that tone was the only thing going through Leonhardt’s mind as blue locked onto yellow. The confusion was only made more apparent by his scarred mouth being slightly agape.

No. That was a lie. He’d seen her face before on posters around Loveless Avenue. The soft rumble of his voice was quickly lost, thrown away as Leonhardt cleared his throat and replaced with his more usual bassy monotone.

“Cleo Calloway. I’m fine.”

The warmth was gone, but a bitterness could still be heard in his voice. It had been a long night, and the sun had only just set.

---

Cleo Holloway

"It's Cleo Holloway, now."

It wasn’t often Leonhardt would become so flustered that he would forget something as simple as a name, but it was an alias. This was Ophelie. The small upward curl at his lips, and the relaxing of his furrowed brow did much to soften the stern stiffness of his face.

“My mistake, Ms. Halloway.”

"This is so embarrassing. You know who I am, but... I can't seem to remember your name."

This Should have been expected. She was a child when they met. Still a child now, in Leonhardt’s eyes. Still, it was a bittersweet feeling to be forgotten by someone. Maybe it was for the best, but he would hate to leave her thinking she had a stalker running around, now that she had a level of celebrity.

He could see the gears in her head spinning, working to find something of an answer. He was sure he was familiar to her in some way, but there was a piece or two still missing.

“We would pick herbs together.”

He would wait for a moment until the realization dawned on him that maybe that wasn’t the best clue, as everyone took turns picking herbs and they weren’t always in the same group. Ah, this should do it.

“I would read you stories now and then. I felt ‘Loveless’ was your favorite.”

---

Cleo Holloway

"So? You're not going to have me calling you 'Mister' all night, are you?"

He couldn’t but give a small smile at her joke. He was tired, yet strangely rejuvenated. The emotional roller coaster that were the last ten minutes gave Leonhardt a need to clear his mind, and this seemed like an ideal time.

“Leonhardt. Artorius Leonhardt.”

He extended his elbow, granted Cleo permission to hold onto his elbow. He silently appreciated it. Taking a look around, the street was busy as it ever was, now that the announcement was over and people mostly returned to business-as-usual. Leonhardt felt like a fish out of water, and the tension could easily be felt, as the words of President Shin-Ra lingered, fresh in the back of his mind. Still, a part of him wondered how the two of them must look like walking side-by-side. A growing starlet and an obvious slumdog with a weapon as big as the woman beside him.

A ray of sunshine peaking through a layer of grey clouds would be his guess.

“Where are we going, Ms. Holloway?

---

Cleo Holloway