[ It's not an answer that surprises him, to be sure.

Cid takes another swallow of wine, exhaling softly. Gods, the man has eyes like the saddest, wettest dog he's ever seen. Sometimes Cid forgets that he's watched him cleave a wyvern in half with one hand. ]

Clive... You won't get eight centuries. I can't promise that you'll get eight days, if you ask me to guess... But there's no reason for you to give up your humanity to have all of that. The lass seems to like you well enough to marry, and there's no shortage of children in search of a happy home, if that's what you'd like.

[ Cid leans in to give him a firm pat on the back. ] Could be that it'll be easier than you think. Can't be tempted when you've already got your heart's desire.

[ He sits up again, his hand shifting to Clive's shoulder to give it a firm squeeze before he pulls away. ] And anyway, I don't believe that this dream was a true vision of the future. If you're going to beat yourself up about something, see that it's something you've actually done.

I can provide a list, if you've run short.