[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]
[OOC: Rufus is so skinny because he spends all his timing running from bullets XD]Long seconds of his consciousness are starting to drift away again. He thinks of something, and then there's a gap, and the next he knows they're in an elevator."40," he mumbled in reply to a query that he's not quite sure he actually heard.Wonderful image you're creating for yourself, the inner voice continues to say, sounding positively irritated.He blinks, thinking vaguely about keycards. "Do you have access to those floors?" Glass elevators, he thinks crazily. People who live in glass elevators should not cast stones..."Was there a commotion?" he asks again, without waiting for a reply. "Did anyone notice I was gone?"
"By elevator, yes. But the residential suites will require your keycard to unlock. As for commotion..." Rafe recalls the chuckles and stares from the party's guests. He also recalls the copious amounts of alcohol being gulped down like water by said guests. It was obvious which would win out by morning. "...There wasn't too much of a fuss. Most of the guests were on their way out anyway." A soft ding announces the elevator's arrival at the 40th floor. Slinging the boy's arm over his shoulder (by now, he wasn't so much supporting the VP as practically carrying him), Rafe trots down the corridor toward the presidential suites at the far end of the hallway. At least, it looked to be the presidential suites. No other place in the building had three separate ID checks just to get past the first door.
Black suit jacket against his chin. Black hair brushing against his cheekbone.It has to be...No. It can't be.Tseng?But hadn't that Wutai bastard managed to disappoint him every time? Getting himself reassigned -- of course, babysitting the Vice President was a job no one wanted -- and the way he hung onto Veld's every word and took his side and even if Rufus had tried his damnest to be nice to the man, he'd only ever gotten cold professionism and even colder professionism back. Would it kill the man to show a little warmth for once? They had, after all, known each other since Rufus had been a kid......he remembered something vaguely about giving up, about resolving to give up, but then here was ...Tseng...? carrying him back to his room, so perhaps something had changed, something----sudden desperation welled up in him as the doors to the suite swished shut behind them, and he worked his arm free in a single action, spinning and pinning Tseng against the nearest wall, fully intending to exploit this opportunity before--He stopped short as reality caught up with him and cashed its checks. All of them. At the same time.Compromisingly close proximity with a Turk, and not the Turk he'd thought it was. And yet he was frozen, rigid with shock and mind frantically querying locked muscle as to what the hell it was supposed to do now.
Rafe finds himself suddenly and quite unexpectedly pinned up against the wall by a boy that, five seconds ago, had been all but passed out over his shoulder. Of all the surprises to round off the evening. Hadn't the kid gotten over his assassin bit yet? Or was he still -Realization of the awkward position he was in slowly dawned upon him. A leg sliding up the side of his thigh. An arm wrapped around the back of his neck. Parted lips bare inches away from his face. He could've sworn he'd seen this exact scene in one of the Don's porno movies once."...Sir? Something the matter?" In the form of a horny teenager's runaway imagination, he nearly adds.
"I--"I am such a fool.Rufus pushes himself violently away, hard enough to make himself stagger back and collide against the opposite wall of the entrance hall. Resisting the urge to groan and slide to the floor, he blurts out a hasty apology, trying not to meet the Turk's eyes. It's not so easy to deal with the sudden surge of alcohol induced upset, that fate is just so unkind and he's never going to live this down, and he doesn't even know this Turk well enough to judge whether he's the type who will go and spill the beans to Veld (like Tseng), or spill the beans full stop (like Reno). "I'm sorry," he repeats, rather inanely. "That was unforgivable. It won't happen again." Clutching the wall for support, he continues mentally railing at himself for being 9 kinds of fool and then some. Giving seriously drunk and doing stupid things is just about number one on the list of Stupid Things Not To Do, and he suspects that he's broken most of the rules on that list already.He waves hastily, almost desperately. "Thank you for the assistance. I'll ... I'll talk to Veld about a commendation, or something. I suppose it goes without saying that all of this is strictly off record and confidential. Even as regards Department personnel and Veld himself." He pauses, and when the Turk doesn't quite respond, plunges on: "I apologise for ruining your evening. Don't let me detain you."
"Not a problem, sir." Rafe watches levelly as the boy simultaneously tries to apologize and bribe him at the same time. Internal politics again. How he hated these backhanded deals over mere trivialties and imagined threats to ego. It was the same kind of shit that had driven him to abandon Wall Market, a secure position at the side of the Don, for a gamble on the upper plates. "Your gratitude is appreciated, but unnecessary." He pauses, considering his words. Replies with a sincerity that surprises even himself. "I joined the Turks to escape petty politics, not instigate them."
Why is he still here? Why isn't he running the hell away? Rufus thinks, blinking in slight confusion. Most people can't wait to get away from the Vice President. He suppresses a bitter smile at the Turk's next words, restraining the urge to tell him that if he wanted to escape the politics, he came to the wrong place. Maybe he was right and he'd actually be able to escape them, though, being a rookie Turk more likely to get killed in the line of duty than to get promoted to any position where the politics would eat him alive. But he looked to be fairly experienced -- one of those they must have drawn from somewhere, then. The urge to talk bubbles up in him -- whether stemming from some sense of loneliness or, he tells himself, because it's good to get to know certain people, especially Turks. Rufus finds a chair and staggers over to it. At the same time, it's quite evident that this isn't a good time to hold any sort of intelligent conversation. He has the nasty, nasty feeling that he just said something stupid, but he can't quite pin it down.Compromise solution, then?"To escape politics?" he asks, instead. "Who was your last employer?"
"I worked for Don Corneo in the sector 6 slums. Mostly enforcement and bodyguard duties, though there was the occasional freelance hire on the side." Rafe wonders how much of his real work made it onto his file. Probably a lot, or the Turks wouldn't have come after him. Even though relations between Corneo and Shinra had been strained in the last few years (not the least because of that nasty incident involving the marketing head and a certain bottle of wine - after that mess was smoothed over, the Don kept his hunting strictly below plates), there still remained a steady flow of information between the mafia don and his connections within the corporation. "But I grew tired of the Wall Market rat race, so when an offer from Shinra came up..." Rafe shrugs. "At least it takes care of job security." There was a lot more to the story than that, but he doubted even Veld knew the full details.
Rufus blinks.Don Corneo? The self-same Don?Something that has been vaguely hoping that the Turk would misinterpret his movements earlier screams and withers and dies. Tragically.He musters a tired smile as he glances over. "Shinra's a huge rat race, itself. Although I dare say that we dress it up a little-- a lot more-- expensively than Wall Market would."Alcohol makes him talk. It's a bad habit, but at least he's still in possession of enough of his senses that he's not likely to talk about anything he isn't supposed to."Not that I've ever been to Wall Market, myself. What's it like? Is it as dangerous as they make it out to be?"
The Turk chuckles wryly. "That depends wholly on two things - how much money you have, and which people you know. One usually follows from the other." He shrugs. There were exceptions to the rule, of course, but generally they came under cover of darkness and left quickly afterward, always with a slightly guilty air about them. No one said the only thing that passed between upper and lower plates was gil."It's not that bad a place once you get used to it, so long as you carry cash and don't cross the Don. He keeps the gangs in check." And the chickies lined up at his door. Rafe neglects to inform the VP of that little aspect of every marriagable (and some not) girl's life in Wall Market, though he's sure by now Corneo's adventures have become infamous. "Anyway, Mr. Vice President, perhaps you should retire to your rooms now. I'll be glad to answer any more of your questions once I'm off duty."
Is he not in his rooms--?Oh.Wait.Antechamber. Right right right.He gets to his feet -- remarkably steady now that the world has (momentarily or otherwise) stopped spinning, giving the Turk what he hopes is a nod and not a drunken bob of the head. "I trust I can find my way from here. Don't let me detain you." A Turk from Wall Market, he speculates, as he focuses on walking on a straight line and trying not to miss the card reader as he swipes his ID through it. Fascinating. Doubtless an interesting fount of information, and given that that is one place the old man frequents that he doesn't, Rufus thinks that it would be in his best interests to find out more. Perhaps a trip in person...?Tseng would throw a fit, but Tseng, as always, is never around. Perhaps......Zack.Hm.Possibilities unfold as he finally gets the card through the reader and steps through. There are weapons vendors there. He knows some people who would rather appreciate additional supplies.In the meantime--The bed suddenly seems way too far away. Kicking off a shoe, he vaguely recalls shedding his jacket before he falls faceflat on the couch and passes out.[Tags: Sephiroth or Tseng or anyone who has access and would like to drop by.]