Really, there were worse things in life than a window seat, even if the tea was atrocious, and so that was the way that Tseng went, claiming that very seat for himself.

He'd barely gotten the teacup to his mouth before he'd begun people-gazing, studying those around him with an unconcerned air about him that failed completely to match up with the interest that he was taking in his surroundings, or the fact that he was committing everything he saw to memory.

Such as the blonde girl who looked, even in Junon, slightly out of place. A little too tired, a little too distracted. Not local, certainly. And she matched up perfectly with the reports he'd read, in his own attempts to keep an eye on the very Zack that he was afraid he'd run into, here.

"The tea," he said, carefully, speaking in Wutai, "could use some work, don't you think>"