[The mention of chocobo races, the birds with varying shades of plumage, reminds Sephiroth of what he’s heard about the Gold Saucer — it seems some facets of life, no matter the planet, remain the same.

He makes a small noise of amusement, so faint that it’s nearly lost in the crackling flame.]

I see. That’s fine, it’s fallacy to assume that even chocobos are the same here.

[It’s not much of a loss, either way. It’s truly a silly, pointless endeavor, born of a silly, pointless thought.]

Maybe a specimen will end up at headquarters. [Dry as the desert. But he moves on.] Did you ever watch a race?