[He's grateful when he receives Tifa's message about stopping by— they haven't had many chances to talk as of late, and while Balthier isn't generally inclined to sharing his personal business with others, the current state of things is such that he has a feeling there are a few details Tifa might like to know. More than that, given that she knows the other party involved, he knows she's likely to be able to lend a concerned ear— given she hasn't gotten the wrong idea about things.

He imagines not. Aerith wouldn't make it out to sound like he'd done anything untoward, he knows.

He offers Tifa a wry smile as he ushers her inside, closing and locking the door behind her.]

It's shaping up to be home, I think. Fran and I are used to less space than this, but it's been nice to have a place to work.

[Over by the large windows overlooking the street, a long table is covered with what looks like in-progress airship design notes and drawings, as well as a gun that has been taken apart to be tinkered with, its components spread across half the surface.

His gaze falls on the bottle-shaped bag in her hand, and his shoulders drop even as his eyebrows raise, relieved.]

You are truly a godsend.