"Okay then, where can I find this Fang woman?" Tifa asked. Already, her patience was starting to wane again. Standing there, looking a sickly green with bulging muscles and unwavering pit stink to go with her literally foul mouth, she already wanted to punch something, anything, to get her anger at her body's changes out of her system.
The bartender grinned at Tifa, showing off gaps between yellow teeth, and shouted from the bar. "Hey, Fang, you got a lady here that wants to talk to ya."
Turning around, Tifa got a good look at the woman. A woman with bronze skin, Fang walked back toward the bar wearing a tight white bustier with a black laced corset on her stomach, and her shoulders left bare by sleeves that covered only her biceps. Completing the ensemble was a blue miniskirt that barely went past her ass and a pair of black leather boots. Carrying a whole platter of drinks, Fang set the platter down and looked at the bartender.
"Alright, he wants to see me?" Fang asked.
"You... you... you're disgusting!" Tifa cried. Up close, she could see how disheveled, greasy, tangled and filthy Fang's brown hair was, not to mention the sweatiness of her body. The bustier was so wet with sweat that Tifa could she Fang's breasts!
"Like you're one to talk. What did you want?"
"That's... you drank a bad drink or someone put a curse on you to make you look gross, right?"
Fang tucked two of her braids behind her ear, crossed her arms, partly closed her eyes and smirked as she answered Tifa.
"Nope, I'm as salty, sweaty and greasy as they come. No tricks there, why do you wanna know?" Fang squinted at her, but before Tifa could answer, she figured it out. "Ah, the barkeep added a bit of me to one of his drinks, did he?"
"... Yes," Tifa said, admitting defeat. "His drinks made me part-malboro, part-ogre, and part... you. How do I reverse it?"
"Well..." answered Fang.