"Face painting is usually pleasant, yeah," she says with a faint snort. Mostly remembering how silly he looked, how he bitched and moaned about it, but held still and let Trixie do what she pleased, regardless. It had been precisely the opposite of evil and monstrous.

His next question takes her back out of her reverie of pleasant memories and she blinks in confusion at Sephiroth. "What about them?"