"Ah—"

That was unexpected. Yuffie stared at Cloud warily, sizing him up. He wasn't joking anymore, that much was clear; there was an edge in his voice, a glint of steel in his eyes. The familiarity of it, a throb of unexpected hope, almost distracted her. "They try," she replied quietly. Maybe she could use this; Maybe there was enough of him left in him. "On a night, y'know? A few nights ago, they… I don't really remember it all, they had me drugged up so bad. All I know is that it hurt like a bitch and I still…" Her laugh was nervous, "I still have nightmares."

She shook her head. "People disappear all the time, without a trace or a word. People get hurt, really hurt, and they try to pin it on stupid stuff - freak accidents, clumsiness, self-harm. People die. You might think I'm crazy, Spiky m'boy, but I've got nothing on this hell."

Worst thing about it, she didn't even have to work to make it sound bad. The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, gross and lingering like blood. He probably wouldn't believe her—what could he do, even if he did?—but if there was even the slightest chance that he might, she had to take it.

If he laughed at her, though, she was going to punch him. For real.