[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]
They say that certain scares can cause the alcohol to completely evaporate from your system.Rufus, frozen in shock behind the sofa, vaguely hoped this was true. Because that voice was utterly unmistakable, and utterly unwelcomed at this time. The esteemed General. The only one Rufus really considered a threat in the Company. The one person he needed on his side more than the entire Board combined.And here he was, clutching a pistol, having shot at the guy, and drunk out of his mind. He groaned softly, despite himself."General," he replied. Because no one, not even the most skilled of actors, could imitate that smooth tone, or that sheer presence that made even his hair stand. He hoped Dark Nation was okay. The yowl hadn't been promising. He snapped the safety of the pistol back on, gratified to note that it was rather easier than his attempts to get the safety off. Maybe he was sobering up. But ... good grief. What did a man have to do get some sleep around here?Hastily combing his hair flat, he stood, clutching the edge of the couch. He truly did not trust his balance at this juncture. A pity his jacket was lost somewhere. He hoped that the General was one who would not place an overemphasis on appearances."I am deeply sorry. I wasn't expecting visitors." And my security phobia is getting worse by the day, I swear."To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" he asked, scanning the area for his tentacled panther. If the great General Sephiroth had hurt her, he didn't trust himself not to launch a suicidal attack on the man.