Sephiroth listened when Rufus spoke. He heard acknowledgement but noy yet answers. This was but a crack in a poor man’s armor. Sensitive insides still beyond his reach. All the more reason to abuse advantage.
One particular sentence echoed inside his head. Each retelling adopted a different tone. What began as a statement now sullied with emotion. He heard it venomously in the end. Almost as if the man in front of him were solely responsible for desecrating his Mother’s corpse. Her body scattered, unburied, hidden and hoarded by her killers.
'She's not all in one place.'
This time he had no laughter left to spare. His elbows bore his weight an he shifted. A slight forwards lean allowing him to loom over this flesh and bone obstruction. Water dripped from his jawline; the faintest trace of his smile affixed to thin lips. Their movement pulling at the stitches of an unrequited wound.
"I know that, Rufus."
His voice rode that name into the ground. A soft sound, smothering, and in it lay a death’s clarity.
S͔̟̼̦̠h̶̜̯͟ẹ̱͕͉͔’̛̻̹s̡̜̙̭̻̳͈̀ ͎̺̪͎͖̝̙
n̞̳̖͖̰̺̕o̧͖̗͙̗͈̭̕t̷̨͚͕̲͍͍͔ ̰̕y̨͍̫̦̭̜̤̲̰o̷̺̬̤͕̤̙̝͢͠ú͓͈͉͉̠ŗ̤̰̣̘͖̻͈̦̝͢s͇̥͇̫̞̱̼͟.͓̲̯̗́
G̛̦̩̬͖͠͠ì̸̼͉̭̪̹͕͉͝v̵͎̝̕e̸̟̕ ̨̜̙̻̭̰͘͞
h̷̻͙̙͙̹͡ę͍̬ṛ̲͎̮̪͈ ̗̜ͅͅ
t͎̜̫͈͜o̸̮̘̲͎̮ ̷̛̦̺͙̮̙̜̫̼m̜͍̣̻͈̪͍͎͟͜e̸̡̟̥̱̖.͎̜̰̳̀
I’ll find her with or ̦̺͠w̤ͅ ̛̺̯i̮̙ ̡̖̘̺̻̜̘͉̮ţ̴̳͈̩̫̪͙ ̹̹̬̺͚̺͓͍͘͠h̢̗̝̘̗̝͟ ̧̟͙̫̜̦͜o̘̟̠̩̩̦̥͞ ̭͓͇͚u̵̞̝̦̗͡ ҉̠͚͈̜͙̀t͏̳͖̱̲̮ ̸̨̮̫͡ you.
Sephiroth did not recline.
This close the individual pigment composing his serpentine eyes glittered like the serrated edges of a knife. Dangerous, shaped for fighting, focused only on the inevitable kill. He paid no attention to the fingers that tentatively wound themselves in the silver hair that framed his face.
When he inhaled his lungs were met with the taste of baited breath. Apprehension and fear differed and in this case the former seemed to remain with the Shinra heir. His exhale was thrown in with the steam that surrounded them both, risen from their watery den. With it he expelled a growing excess of adrenaline.
"I want to see Mother first."
Everyone else could come later.
"She needs me."
It did not strike him as odd that he spoke of her as if she lived. Somehow the habit had worked its way into his mind. Nor did he seem to expect Rufus to receive the words as anything but normal. He simply went on to say more; the cant of his head an almost playful contrast to his prior dissatisfaction. A different kind of madness entertained this half of their discussion.
"I’ve heard you know a reliable delivery boy.”
Sephiroth shifted, and Rufus knew that was his discontent—every movement that he made was dangerous, and he was still exploring for words that could pacify him. Sephiroth sat up and Rufus did not flinch, did not stand up.
Sephiroth punctuated the statement with his name. If it had been intended to be mocking, Rufus’ arrogance swallowed it before it could hit the mark. Despite it all, the young man couldn’t help but smile, his lips curling as he stared distantly across Sephiroth’s shoulder. There was a sort of intimacy in the word—not that it lent itself to any semblance of safety, but even still, Rufus decided that he liked it. As a child he’d groped for some sort of relationship, to draw out of Sephiroth’s apathy towards him. The way Sephiroth said his name was different than he’d been made to say it years ago—yet somehow it was more thrilling.
The president’s gaze flickered upwards to meet Sephiroth’s eyes. The other had not reclined again and that purposeful decision made Rufus tense. Sephiroth did not move to stand but Rufus could hear his impatience resonating in his breath. He was still not appeased.
"She’s yours."
He said so amicably; there was no room for argument in that. Sephiroth doted over the remains and Rufus would verbally grant him possession of his Mother until his tongue ran dry. Sephiroth was not so easily muddled by words, but it was perhaps as earnest as Rufus Shinra could at the moment manage—bare in the hot springs, all he had to offer were words and promises.
Rufus paused, his chin lifting in a gesture of curiosity as Sephiroth continued. The statement was so unexpected—but as it settled, immediately the smile returned to his face. The man uttered an amused hm as his hand dropped from Sephiroth's hair. He appreciated this shift of focus. It was much easier to tell Sephiroth what he wanted to hear when there was nothing riding on Rufus' shoulders, when Sephiroth's sword and scrutiny were no longer nipping at his throat. And he had no trepidation about placing his problems on someone else's platter and stepping away to allow Sephiroth and his delivery boy to have at it.
But know, yes, that certainly summarized their relationship. Behind his rather impressive sword (swords?), Rufus found Cloud quite agreeable. But if Sephiroth wanted to play with the blond, Rufus was not the route through which he would have personally selected. Convenience? That sort of thing never seemed to be an issue for Sephiroth. Cloud did not stretch that know as far as Rufus would; outside of the Turks, his relationships were always a matter of convenience.
Rufus permitted himself a gentle inhale and exhale before he replied, his words guarded and intrigued.
"I do."
