The purring persists, for as long as Wedge pets his fur. Cloud doesn't even notice it- or perhaps he does, and is simply not acknowledging it, glad to just exist and let go for a little while. It's been too long. He's exhausted, sleep-deprived, relieved, warm, too many emotions to keep track of and restrain in a state like his.

"You sound like Sephiroth. Said things about how if I knew everything at once or tried to work ahead, I might risk really hurting myself, or breaking. Still, what time is left? Sephiroth- the one back home- is going to cause some serious problems for the world if I don't do something. I feel helpless. It's shitty."

That's the most Cloud has opened up to someone in a long time, admitting helplessness. Or the feeling of it, rather.

His pack...He started to accept one back home, but here? It's been flying solo with the occasional intervention from each of the Firsts. Until Wedge, he couldn't say he had a damn thing like a pack to speak of. But if anyone knows him somewhere like Wedge...He guesses the Firsts would be it. "...I guess. But you realize this makes me a danger to be around, right? I could hurt you, Wedge. Just like I hurt Tifa."