The moment that Rude's name was brought up, Zack's eyebrows rose up pretty far on his face. It was just so hard to imagine. Even though the changes in Tifa were obvious, this was almost too much. "Since when do you commiserate with Turks?" he asked, his tone between slightly teasing and genuinely curious. He was used to working alongside the suits, but part of him still looked at Tifa and saw that teenage girl in the cowboy hat. It was just weird.

He took note of her room number, realizing that it would be in his best interest to write all of the important ones down in his journal at some point. Zack also felt weird about not knowing Cloud's room number -- it turned out there were a lot of things he needed to bug his friend about. Preferably when the guy wasn't on the brink of tossing his cookies all over the bus floor.

"I'll see if I can get a hold of him somehow," he agreed. "Rude's got a good head on his shoulders, so I'm sure you two will be fine." Zack could have invited himself to the party, but he got the feeling they'd manage without him. It was better to spread out and cover as much ground as possible. "And... does that mean you fight with your fists?" He'd caught her earlier comment about the gloves, and he had to admit he was impressed. Close-quarters combat wasn't easy; Zack could manage it in a pinch, but it was something he'd never focused on because it was hardly his strongest area.