"You ever heard of being hospitable and actually inviting people in, old man?" Zack teased with a tone as light as he could manage at the moment, as he came up alongside the doorway with a Cloud possibly in tow. He wasn't defending Sephiroth, he wasn't, he convinced himself. Just stating a fact that the other man's guest relations skills were slightly lacking. By a lot.

Zack shifted his shoulder, looking as if he was readjusting his Buster sword to a more comfortably holstered position, more intent on emphasizing the fact that the blade was there. Temporarily avoiding Sephiroth's eyes, he was thinking that this might be harder than he had thought. D@mmit, should have been equipped with a summon when he'd died. At the very least, it would have bought them time to hightail it out of there if things went pear shaped.

But as Angeal used to say, all things avoided tend to turn around and bite him in the @ss, Zack's particularly. Sometimes even literally. Nodding tightly at the slightly taller man, Zack couldn't help but keep his distance and stare. After the intial perusal to ensure that Sephiroth wasn't carrying his blade (and honestly, Zack doubted the man - as ingenious as he was - could even come up with a place to hide that weapon in his clothes), Zack continued to stare. The man looked, well, normal, as relative as that term could be affixed to a man like Sephiroth. No fanatical insane gleam in his eyes, no incoherent mumblings. Just...Sephiroth as he looked before everything went to Hel.

"I see your taste in fashion hasn't changed much."