Surprisingly, that is not the route Cloud takes, but rather the simpler one set right before him. "I mean, cats can't stand me anymore. They used to love me, before I was SOLDIER." He tries to center himself, and look for commonalities, or anything, besides going on the attack. Cooling exercises. Sephiroth isn't taunting, or stabbing, causing him pain, or doing anything of the sort. Just wait it out for now, he thinks. "Birds still like me fine too. Clearly." He pats the hen in his lap for emphasis.

He swears he can sense elements of fright and discomfort from Sephiroth, and it makes his stomach churn. Not with disgust, per se, but a feeling of confusion and empathy that he cannot fully push away. It makes twice now, this man has interacted so peacefully and practically sadly with Cloud. He doesn't come off as the threat the blond has always associated with his presence. Even the hen is happy with him, and he treats her so very gently. That Sephiroth is capable of that level of delicacy is a revelation to Cloud in and of itself.

"Angeal the meddling type, then? Great. First he worries about my sword, now he's pulling this. I don't get what you three have on me that keeps you acting weird like this."

He has an inkling, a nagging awareness, thanks to Genesis in particular, but thinking on the implications of it both makes him physically sick and terrifies him in a soul-deep way.