The Turks

Two men were at the counter, talking to Madam M. Aerith recognized both in an instant.

Both wore suits. One had spiky red hair, the other was bald and wore sunglasses, the latter keeping back while the former leaned over the desk. Reno and Rude. She'd met them so many times before: they were the Turks, an elite team that worked for Shinra. They'd been trying to coax her to return for so long.

"Listen, lady," Reno said. "We've heard whispers that a very particular someone was seen coming in here. Brown hair, pink dress, a knack for magic, et-cetra, et-cetra. Seen anyone like that?"

He had his baton out, his weapon of choice, keeping it behind his back and tapping it like it was just a nervous habit. The threat was there. Madam M looked back at him for a moment.

"I cannot discuss my clients," Madam M said coolly. "You understand."

Reno looked back at Rude. Rude nodded. Reno smiled.

"Oh, of course," he said. "We'll just take a look for ourselves then."

Reno took a step forwards. Aerith almost cried out, and took a step away from the door. She looked around her room in a panic. She couldn't be caught by them, especially not like this.

"I work for the Don," Madam M raised her voice. "He won't take kindly to Shinra meddling in his affairs."

"The Don," Reno said. He laughed. "He knows better than the tangle with us."

Aerith wasn't sure why Madam M seemed to have decided to defend her, in what small way she could, but she was glad of the few seconds of thought. Reno had paused to answer, and Aerith kept looking around the room for some way to avoid being caught.