Arnie spends most of his time at the bar. Let that apparition that Milo says is following me around deal with the fact that only one of them can get drunk. In the normal press of the pretty girls that liked to hang around him and drink with him and Sven, the ale flowed freely and there was a lot of very familiar physical affection. Tifa hung close, although it seemed more that she wanted to make sure that at least one of them was sober if trouble came up.
A good couple of ales in, when the world was a little woozy and warm, Tifa started pulling on Arnie’s arm. “Doesn’t it seem like these girls want to know an awful lot about us?” she said with some disquiet. “I don’t know that I like you answering all of these questions.”
“Hey!” shouted Sven. “Hey! She said they are writing a song about us. Get that Tifa? A SONG! Hell, I’ll tell them everything they want to hear if it’s a good song sung by … let’s see… that one. But only if she’s dancing at the same time…. C’mere you…..” Sven attempted to crawl over the table towards one particularly fetching young woman. She giggled and feinted disapproval.
Tifa sighed and turned back to Arnie. “Really? Can’t you see this is a bad idea?”
Arnie’s head heavily swung from side to side. “Nah, what are you worried about. I can punch whatever it is anyway.” He looked back down at his ale, then looked up excitedly. “Hey! Is me punching stuff in the song? It had better be!”