Tseng:....I am slightly perturbed. Rufus: You will be. *pats* You will be.
I could try that but I am worried it might see me and eat me. I have been tempted to kick it out in front of a bus, the times that I've seen it standing by the bus stop.
I AM SUCH A COP OUT CASE. SUCH. A. COP. OUT. CASE.
Hard to imagine Tseng civil; Rufus forgets. Tseng is rarely civil - that element of his character seems too social, too irrelevant to his occupation for it to filter into Rufus' normal conception of the Turk. Even now, in the twilight of a new city, it's strange to see Tseng in the afternoon or evening light, present instead of absent. Rufus, for the longest time, marked Tseng by the shadow the man left behind him, not by the one he cast.
Edge, however, requires an entirely different set of politics from the one Midgar used to. They don't play the old games of empire anymore - no more sweeps and no more shocks; for now Shinra is placid, pacifist and purposeful, and Tseng exchanges missions for commissions just as Rufus exchanges power for persuasion.
Still odd, nonetheless, to watch Tseng eat at a table, civil and practiced as though his training dealt with etiquette instead of infiltration. The night is young, and not all the lights the city wide have come on yet. Rufus sits, opposite of Tseng, at a table in one of the myriad eateries that Edge has created. It does their image good to be seen in public more often: demystification and humanisation and a huge risk. Tseng eats dessert with the blade of his fork, neat and efficient, but underneath his blazer is an armed gun.
Rufus shouldn't find that as amusing as he does, but it's one of life's little ironies, and he'll enjoy them while he can. Tseng pauses, his utensils quietly touching on the china, and looks up. Rufus? he asks with the arch of a brow.
'Nothing,' Rufus says aloud, waving his free hand in the air. 'Never imagined you were a fan of confectionaries.'
'I'm not,' Tseng says, wiping his lips with his napkin. He lets the cloth fall back onto the table, and waits for Rufus with his hands perched on the edge of the chair.
Rufus cocks his head at Tseng's empty dish: no cake left there, and Rufus marks it because he can scarcely remember a time in their long history where Tseng has partook of good food - can scarcely remember Tseng eating at all.
'I finish what I start,' Tseng says, and Rufus reads into the curve of his lips.
YES. I MANAGE TO TURN CAKE INTO AN ANALOGY FOR. SOMETHING TOTALLY DIFFERENT. WHOO.
Re: I AM SUCH A COP OUT CASE. SUCH. A. COP. OUT. CASE.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Tseng:....I am slightly perturbed.
Rufus: You will be. *pats* You will be.
I could try that but I am worried it might see me and eat me.
I have been tempted to kick it out in front of a bus, the times that I've seen it standing by the bus stop.I AM SUCH A COP OUT CASE. SUCH. A. COP. OUT. CASE.
Edge, however, requires an entirely different set of politics from the one Midgar used to. They don't play the old games of empire anymore - no more sweeps and no more shocks; for now Shinra is placid, pacifist and purposeful, and Tseng exchanges missions for commissions just as Rufus exchanges power for persuasion.
Still odd, nonetheless, to watch Tseng eat at a table, civil and practiced as though his training dealt with etiquette instead of infiltration. The night is young, and not all the lights the city wide have come on yet. Rufus sits, opposite of Tseng, at a table in one of the myriad eateries that Edge has created. It does their image good to be seen in public more often: demystification and humanisation and a huge risk. Tseng eats dessert with the blade of his fork, neat and efficient, but underneath his blazer is an armed gun.
Rufus shouldn't find that as amusing as he does, but it's one of life's little ironies, and he'll enjoy them while he can. Tseng pauses, his utensils quietly touching on the china, and looks up. Rufus? he asks with the arch of a brow.
'Nothing,' Rufus says aloud, waving his free hand in the air. 'Never imagined you were a fan of confectionaries.'
'I'm not,' Tseng says, wiping his lips with his napkin. He lets the cloth fall back onto the table, and waits for Rufus with his hands perched on the edge of the chair.
Rufus cocks his head at Tseng's empty dish: no cake left there, and Rufus marks it because he can scarcely remember a time in their long history where Tseng has partook of good food - can scarcely remember Tseng eating at all.
'I finish what I start,' Tseng says, and Rufus reads into the curve of his lips.
YES. I MANAGE TO TURN CAKE INTO AN ANALOGY FOR. SOMETHING TOTALLY DIFFERENT. WHOO.
Re: I AM SUCH A COP OUT CASE. SUCH. A. COP. OUT. CASE.
That was just genius. Seriously. Just frakking Genius. And in the space of time it took me to walk home from work!
GIVE ME YOUR BRAIN!!!!
Re: I AM SUCH A COP OUT CASE. SUCH. A. COP. OUT. CASE.
I'm not a genius; right now I feel more like an insomniac...
Re: I AM SUCH A COP OUT CASE. SUCH. A. COP. OUT. CASE.
it's too much for meeee.
seriously though, that drabble was just so great. You probably won't get nothing out of me until I've fed myself later :D
Re: I AM SUCH A COP OUT CASE. SUCH. A. COP. OUT. CASE.