[Cloud's confused expression confirms how silly that worry was, before it's replaced with a firm one as he shakes his head.]

Not a chance. Never. I'll always want you around, no matter what.

[He glances over at the cake for a moment - a birthday gift, but perhaps also a peace offering of a sort. He thinks about what led to their terrible argument in the first place, what he told Sephiroth and Abel about it after the fact.

Then, with a decisive air, he pushes back his stool and stands, only to approach Aerith with his hand extended for a handshake. His tone is decisive, too, but soft. Gentle.]

Name's Cloud. Cloud Strife. It's...good to meet you.