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Rufus Shinra [userpic]
Parties, contd
by Rufus Shinra (crisis_control)
at January 22nd, 2006 (09:18 pm)
Feelings on this:: drunk

[OOC: Started up a new log because the other thread disappeared off my f-list]

The need for air was getting overwhelming.

Rufus staggered away from Scarlet's very drunken attempts to get one arm around his shoulders and another down his pants, banged his leg painfully against the table, split punch down his jacket, and figured that a strategic retreat was called for. Perhaps he would even return to his room for reinforcements. No one, however drunk, messed with one large panther, black, fully equiped with enough jaw strength to crush bone. And tentacles. Two tentacles.

Abandoning the now empty glass, he staggered towards the doors of the ballroom, wondering why the world seemed to insist on listing slightly to the right. Surely it wasn't because the room had been built on a slope. He'd have been... notified if it was. He'd have to take the Head of Building Administration to task very seriously about allowed sinkage to this extent.

No wait.

He paused just outside the doors, shaking his head violently as his senses caught up rather belatedly with him. How many glasses of punch had he drunk? It had been one. Then another when he'd talked to Reeve's secretary. And another when Heidegger had started telling his... jokes. And... oh gods.

He groaned as he dimly recalled several more in between that one and the one he had split. Well, maybe he simply wouldn't be back. After all, it wasn't as if anyone would miss him--

--the world listed again, and sharply, and he stumbled, lost his balance and staggered into the wall. Except that there was a Turk in the way.

[Tags: doublegunshot]

Comments

Posted by: Rufus Shinra (crisis_control)
Posted at: January 24th, 2006 10:41 am (UTC)

"People lie. ID cards can be forged. Badges can be forged. Bloody assassins get everywhere," Rufus babbles, unhappiness seeping into his voice as he retrieves his gun and reholsters it.

He blinks, studying the corridor, his face a mask of intense concentration. Carpet. Long corridor. Table. He thinks he knows this place, but at the moment it keeps slipping away from his mind.

You, a mental voice hisses at him, Are so drunk.

"I'm not drunk," he retorts at it, unaware that he has spoken out loud. "I'm just lost." He turns to the Turk. "Where are we?"

Posted by: Rafe (doublegunshot)
Posted at: January 24th, 2006 12:58 pm (UTC)

Rafe chuckles inwardly at the obviously false statement.

Of course. Just a spontaneous case of stomach flu. Nothing to do with booze at all.

However, his mirth dies quickly at the second question. Location. Directions. Place.

"Ah..." Where were they indeed? That was a good question. In his hurry to get out of the party and clean up the mess and find an excuse to make a speedy exit, Rafe had managed to steer them down several twists and turns he now had very little recollection of taking. Not that it was a reflection on his recall ability - oh no, he had excellent memory when it came to navigating the maze of alleyways in the slums. But even alleyways had their identifying markings, unlike the cookie cutter corridors around here.

And besides. He had been banking on the Vice President at least knowing his way around his own company.

"Somewhere near the north entrance, I believe," he conjectures.

Posted by: Rufus Shinra (crisis_control)
Posted at: January 24th, 2006 01:58 pm (UTC)

The old man seems to change the internal decor of this place every time I go away, Rufus thinks sourly, glancing sidelong at the Turk. New recruit. Probably not even from the upper plate. Of course he would be totally lost in this rats' nest.

Shaking off the Turk -- Rave, was it? Or Raze? -- he turns and considers the corridor. There doesn't appear to be any choice other than The Way They Came From and The Way They Didn't Come From, and the last thing he wants to do is to do is to go back The Way They Came.

"You should return," he says, setting off down the corridor. Sooner or later he'll run into a landmark he recognises. Hopefully it'll be the elevator. "Thank you for the assistance. I'll see myself home."

Posted by: Rafe (doublegunshot)
Posted at: January 24th, 2006 02:10 pm (UTC)

Rafe watches with some unease at the Vice President's unsteady steps down the corridor hall. Not that the steps alone were his sole reason for concern. He'd seen enough drunks stagger their merry way way home without too much injury. No, it was the fact that the hallway ended in the press room (he'd been stationed there earlier to ward off the sharks) that had him worried.

"Perhaps I can call you a cab..." He hints, trying to think of a diplomatic way to steer the VP away from what was most likely certain disaster.

Posted by: Rufus Shinra (crisis_control)
Posted at: January 24th, 2006 02:19 pm (UTC)

Rufus pauses, glancing wearily back. "Aren't we at Shinra HQ? I thought we started the evening there, at least. I have a room on the 40th floor." He sighs, reaching up to flick a stray lock of hair away in what will become a habitual gesture (even if he doesn't know it yet).

The ground lurches abruptly, and he has a split second to wonder about earthquakes before he finds the carpet up against his nose.

Argh.

Cue trying to pick himself up. Cue the weight of the shotgun abruptly dragging him down on one side. Cue falling over again.

He groans under his breath, finally unholsters the shotgun and uses it as a prop to push himself to his feet. And stands there, swaying, torn between asking for help or attempting to navigate his own way back and running into the risk of making an even greater fool of himself.

Pride vs pride. How utterly... stupid.

"Perhaps you could give me a little assistance here," he murmurs at last.

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