It's not that unusual for Cloud to get asked to ferry someone somewhere, but usually the request is from someone he knows, or at least has seen around and exchanged mutual nods of stoic acknowledgment with. This time, it's someone who at first, for a jarring split second while he's zooming toward her, he thinks might be Tifa - it's the long, black hair, that's really it.

But he only has to get a little closer to see that it's obviously someone else. He slows just enough to pull his usual parking stunt, drifting with a screech of rubber into a turn that deposits him into a perfect halt right beside where she's standing. Judging from her clothes, she's probably from one of those worlds with very little technology, so hopefully she won't bolt or freak out over the bike.

"Need a lift?"