this is not, truly, news for either of them, but their names are tied together now on the front pages of all sorts of tabloids and internet articles — the president of shinra electric power company has married . . . well, one of the men hellbent on destroying shinra. it's been pretty big news ; biggs has avoided leaving the house for any reason, lest people decide that he's somehow more interesting now than he used to be.
he approaches rufus's desk with a mug of fresh coffee and sets it down in front of him, careful of the papers that are scattered across the surface. marriage aside, they're still busy people — it's not surprising that rufus is not so keen on taking a break from the work. it tends to pile up after a break, anyway.
" have you eaten today or should i order food? " biggs asks, though he's sure he knows the answer.
a few hours before the bar is set to open, biggs is inside, stocking the coolers and cleaning up for the evening rush of patrons. he's sure tifa will be coming in relatively soon to do exactly this, and that's why he's here — so she doesn't have to. it is, after all, the least he can do for the fact that he almost never pays for the beer he drinks while he's here. and while tifa may be loathe to admit it, she doesn't take breaks ; she's as prone to overworking herself as he is.
it's really nothing — he likes to clean. it keeps his hands busy, and it usually leads to some breakthroughs in whatever project he's working on, considering his brain has nothing else to focus on.
the tables are first, and then the bar itself, and then he sets to mopping. the scent of cleaner is strong in the air around him, and he doesn't mind. something about it feels relaxing, eases his mind, and he loses himself in thought as he works.
Late into the evening, sun lamps powered down and a dim yellow light flickering overhead, Biggs finds himself drenched in sweat in the Slums—typical heat. He sits at the table in his apartment, the scent of gun oil thick in the air as he works. Slow. Methodical.
" you can tag along whenever you want, i'll never say no to some company when i do patrols, " biggs responds with an easy smile.
the monster activity has picked up around the slums, so biggs has been upping his rounds to match. he can't do much on his own, but between the whole of the neighborhood watch, and other people who are happy to help out, they manage to keep the slums relatively safe.
" hopefully it's a calm night. i think cloud was around clearing out the scrapyard earlier this week, but they seem to be coming more and more recently. i think they feed off the mako waste poured out into the slums— makes them stronger, and shinra can dump them here and wipe their hands of it. "
“Well,”
A hand rests on her cheek, pointer finger tapping away gently. Eyes still trained on Biggs, her interest in his work doesn’t fade, even with the talk of their impending adventure. There’s a lot to excite her, really, and it shows in the way her eyes seem to sparkle.
“If Cloud’s been putting in work… With any luck, we should have an easy night.”
Easy is a relative term, up to interpretation. There’s no such thing as easy when fiends roam free like that, so she can only hope that their mercenary friend did a good job.
“Either way, I’ve been dying to get out a bit. Stretch my wings, make good use of this bracelet you put together for me. Y’know.”
" hope it works for you — it would be unfortunate to have it fail during patrols. "
it's happened before — usually to biggs' own weapons, because he doesn't let people go off with anything experimental without making sure that it works. it's gotten him into a couple scrapes, but he's pretty good at getting out of them when it happens.
biggs stands and wipes the gun oil from his hands, carefully reloading the clip in smooth, sure motions, nodding once when he's ready. " i'm ready whenever you are. "
he double-checks his own supply — extra ammo and a second gun, just in case. he's cautious to the point of paranoia sometimes, but he can't help it — he's seen too much to not be.
“ ding ding ding, we have a winner-” she replies easily, setting down the basket before moving to grab plates for them both, clearly at ease and at home in his apartment, “ had to get to her to stop loading it up with even more food, and even then, we'll still probably have leftovers to give out or.. I don't know, Wedge can give the rest to his cats. "
she sits down, a plate of her own food in front of her - a plate for Biggs set to the side, “ you'd think we were orphans or something, out on the streets with the way she acts sometimes,” she mutters, shaking her head, “ anyway, eat up. like i said, she loaded me up with plenty of food. ”
she takes a moment, poking at the food on her plate briefly before looking over at him, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, “ what were you working on so intently on when I walked in? ”
" well, for all intents and purposes, i am an orphan out on the street, " biggs shrugs, because he might as well be, even if his parents are alive — he hasn't seen them in almost ten years.
he moves towards the kitchen sink, turning the water on so he can wash the oil off of his fingers with some lukewarm water and soap. the apartment is sluggish and hot, and he's admittedly not all that hungry — he never is when the heat is unbearable.
still, he knows there's not much of a choice when it comes to aerith loading them up with food, so he dries his hands on a towel and sits down with eve.
" ah, i'm sure wedge and jessie would be happy to pick off whatever we have left over, " he shrugs, shaking his head as he looks at the expanse of food spread in front of them. " it's more like she's feeding an army. " he picks up a piece of fruit and takes a bite, glancing at his work table.
Late into the evening, sun lamps powered down and a dim yellow light flickering overhead, Biggs finds himself drenched in sweat in the Slums—typical heat. He sits at the table in his apartment, the scent of gun oil thick in the air as he works. Slow. Methodical.
slums-tactician
it's different for biggs ; he's not sure he could imagine himself living topside again. he's gotten used to the smells and the sounds, the artificial light and the heat. even if he's never been a fan of the dirt and the clutter, he can keep himself busy cleaning up the Slums one patch of dirt at a time — the upper plate has nothing for him anymore. maybe it never did ; he'd certainly never felt it there.
he sits back down at his work bench, using an already grease-stained rag to wipe off what remains of the gun oil, and then begins slotting the pieces of his gun back together with practiced, methodical movements.
" i get that — i was probably going to hit the scrapyard tonight when the majority of people are asleep. do a couple rounds. "
should he sleep? probably. will he? no.
Leaning forward, she watches him with keen interest. Everything she's ever gotten to know about guns, which is... Mind you, very little... She learned from Biggs, and the other members of his AVALANCHE cell. By no means was it a topic she was knowledgeable about, but she still managed to be quite attentive whenever she saw him work.
"If you're going, maybe I could tag along? If you're okay with it, I mean."
Now, if you'd asked her years ago, this wasn't something she might've asked. Always a dainty, pretty little thing, like some well kept doll. But her new life changed her a bit, in the years she'd been down here. While she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty, one thing that would never change is her eagerness to lend a hand. Besides that, of course, she just finds the company nice. Especially on a night like tonight, where she was feeling restless as she was.
" you can tag along whenever you want, i'll never say no to some company when i do patrols, " biggs responds with an easy smile.
the monster activity has picked up around the slums, so biggs has been upping his rounds to match. he can't do much on his own, but between the whole of the neighborhood watch, and other people who are happy to help out, they manage to keep the slums relatively safe.
" hopefully it's a calm night. i think cloud was around clearing out the scrapyard earlier this week, but they seem to be coming more and more recently. i think they feed off the mako waste poured out into the slums— makes them stronger, and shinra can dump them here and wipe their hands of it. "
Late into the evening, sun lamps powered down and a dim yellow light flickering overhead, Biggs finds himself drenched in sweat in the Slums—typical heat. He sits at the table in his apartment, the scent of gun oil thick in the air as he works. Slow. Methodical.
slums-tactician
it's different for biggs ; he's not sure he could imagine himself living topside again. he's gotten used to the smells and the sounds, the artificial light and the heat. even if he's never been a fan of the dirt and the clutter, he can keep himself busy cleaning up the Slums one patch of dirt at a time — the upper plate has nothing for him anymore. maybe it never did ; he'd certainly never felt it there.
he sits back down at his work bench, using an already grease-stained rag to wipe off what remains of the gun oil, and then begins slotting the pieces of his gun back together with practiced, methodical movements.
" i get that — i was probably going to hit the scrapyard tonight when the majority of people are asleep. do a couple rounds. "
should he sleep? probably. will he? no.
Leaning forward, she watches him with keen interest. Everything she's ever gotten to know about guns, which is... Mind you, very little... She learned from Biggs, and the other members of his AVALANCHE cell. By no means was it a topic she was knowledgeable about, but she still managed to be quite attentive whenever she saw him work.
"If you're going, maybe I could tag along? If you're okay with it, I mean."
Now, if you'd asked her years ago, this wasn't something she might've asked. Always a dainty, pretty little thing, like some well kept doll. But her new life changed her a bit, in the years she'd been down here. While she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty, one thing that would never change is her eagerness to lend a hand. Besides that, of course, she just finds the company nice. Especially on a night like tonight, where she was feeling restless as she was.
" you can tag along whenever you want, i'll never say no to some company when i do patrols, " biggs responds with an easy smile.
the monster activity has picked up around the slums, so biggs has been upping his rounds to match. he can't do much on his own, but between the whole of the neighborhood watch, and other people who are happy to help out, they manage to keep the slums relatively safe.
" hopefully it's a calm night. i think cloud was around clearing out the scrapyard earlier this week, but they seem to be coming more and more recently. i think they feed off the mako waste poured out into the slums— makes them stronger, and shinra can dump them here and wipe their hands of it. "
Late into the evening, sun lamps powered down and a dim yellow light flickering overhead, Biggs finds himself drenched in sweat in the Slums—typical heat. He sits at the table in his apartment, the scent of gun oil thick in the air as he works. Slow. Methodical.
slums-tactician
" always something to work on, " biggs agrees with a grin, closing the door behind her once she's stepped inside. the smell of the oil is much stronger in the room ; he hopes she doesn't mind that too much. " guns should be cleaned fairly regularly — they were due for a touch-up. "
he flicks the fan near the table on — something he tends to avoid doing unless other people are in the apartment with him. he doesn't use the power if he can help it ; makes him feel like part of the problem when he's using mako energy. but his apartment is stiflingly hot when he doesn't have it on, and he doesn't inflict that on others.
" what brings you by? "
Funny, she grew up topside just like Biggs. Two people from the upper plate, but somehow? She thought she'd ever get used to the pungent scent of oil and machinery. It had been years since she'd been home, surrounded by dusty books and the embers from her Mother's old fireplace. So, whenever she stopped by, it reminded her of just how long she'd been away from home...
Not that she minded, of course - this is where she chose to be, and the company was wonderful; something to be thankful for.
"Just... Wanted to go for a walk."
She stands back up straight and adjusts her posture, before settling down in the nearest chair. Not too far from his work bench, but still keeping enough distance that she wouldn't disturb his project.
"Felt a bit cooped up, wanted to get out a bit. Y'know?"
it's different for biggs ; he's not sure he could imagine himself living topside again. he's gotten used to the smells and the sounds, the artificial light and the heat. even if he's never been a fan of the dirt and the clutter, he can keep himself busy cleaning up the Slums one patch of dirt at a time — the upper plate has nothing for him anymore. maybe it never did ; he'd certainly never felt it there.
he sits back down at his work bench, using an already grease-stained rag to wipe off what remains of the gun oil, and then begins slotting the pieces of his gun back together with practiced, methodical movements.
" i get that — i was probably going to hit the scrapyard tonight when the majority of people are asleep. do a couple rounds. "
Late into the evening, sun lamps powered down and a dim yellow light flickering overhead, Biggs finds himself drenched in sweat in the Slums—typical heat. He sits at the table in his apartment, the scent of gun oil thick in the air as he works. Slow. Methodical.
slums-tacticianfor a second, there's silence on the other side of the door as biggs continues to work quietly at his desk, pieces of his gun separated and laying on the surface in front of him. he pulls his gloves off and lays them down, wiping any excess oil off on his shorts as he stands.he probably looks a total mess — he's in a tank-top and a pair of oil stained shorts, but it's also late in the evening, and he had not been expecting any sort of company. anyone knocking on his door right now is someone who isn't going to judge based on how he looks right now.he pulls his front door open and blinks when he sees freia there ; not a person that he suspected to see this evening. " hey, " he says with a small smile, standing to the side to let her in. " sorry for the mess, i wasn't expecting company. "
Honestly, she's just happy to see him. Even though she'd wandered this way on a whim, the moment the door opened she felt a sense of immediate delight.
"Hey!"
She sounds cheerful, a smile crossing her face after he greets her. With arms tucked behind her back, she tilts her head; getting a good look at him, before peering back into the room behind him.
"You know I don't mind a mess. Sorry for dropping by unexpected, though. You look like you've been a bit busy."
" always something to work on, " biggs agrees with a grin, closing the door behind her once she's stepped inside. the smell of the oil is much stronger in the room ; he hopes she doesn't mind that too much. " guns should be cleaned fairly regularly — they were due for a touch-up. "
he flicks the fan near the table on — something he tends to avoid doing unless other people are in the apartment with him. he doesn't use the power if he can help it ; makes him feel like part of the problem when he's using mako energy. but his apartment is stiflingly hot when he doesn't have it on, and he doesn't inflict that on others.
Late into the evening, sun lamps powered down and a dim yellow light flickering overhead, Biggs finds himself drenched in sweat in the Slums—typical heat. He sits at the table in his apartment, the scent of gun oil thick in the air as he works. Slow. Methodical.
It wouldn’t be long until the otherwise ambiance of the slums was broken by the soft padding of footsteps. A familiar red haired woman making her way through the streets. With the night drawing ever closer, she’d wanted to find shelter to rest — far from home as she was, of course.
But it was only once she rounded a nearby bend that she picked up that scent of gun oil, drawing her immediately towards the source. She couldn’t help but wonder…
Is Biggs home? Only one way to find out, of course, and that would be to try knocking. So, naturally, she does just that. Tapping gently against the door, knocking thrice.
for a second, there's silence on the other side of the door as biggs continues to work quietly at his desk, pieces of his gun separated and laying on the surface in front of him. he pulls his gloves off and lays them down, wiping any excess oil off on his shorts as he stands.
he probably looks a total mess — he's in a tank-top and a pair of oil stained shorts, but it's also late in the evening, and he had not been expecting any sort of company. anyone knocking on his door right now is someone who isn't going to judge based on how he looks right now.
he pulls his front door open and blinks when he sees freia there ; not a person that he suspected to see this evening. " hey, " he says with a small smile, standing to the side to let her in. " sorry for the mess, i wasn't expecting company. "
Late into the evening, sun lamps powered down and a dim yellow light flickering overhead, Biggs finds himself drenched in sweat in the Slums—typical heat. He sits at the table in his apartment, the scent of gun oil thick in the air as he works. Slow. Methodical.
she was fairly sure ( actually quite sure ) that biggs had likely not eaten yet - or had gotten by with some meager meal hastily thrown together but not anything that could be considered proper sustenance. so after aerith had been safely returned back home, she had left the gainsborough house with packaged leftovers stuffed in her arms with the instructions to ensure both she and biggs ate it all - and that aerith would know if they hadn't.
carefully balancing the basket of food in her arms, she carefully opens the door to his apartment, peeking inside to see where he was at.
“ hey - special delivery here. can't refuse it either. and no, i won't just leave it on the counter either, ‘cos i know you’ll forget about it. "
it takes Biggs a moment to look up from what he's doing ; he's engrossed in what's doing — pieces of his gun are laying on his work table, and his hands are slick with the oil he's using to clean them.
" can't refuse it? " he replies when he finally looks up, meeting eve's gaze with a faint smile as he appraises the food she's holding — he can put the pieces together to assume that this was probably aerith. and he's not allowed to say no to her. " alright, alright. set it there, let me wash my hands real quick, and then i will join you to eat. "
Late into the evening, sun lamps powered down and a dim yellow light flickering overhead, Biggs finds himself drenched in sweat in the Slums—typical heat. He sits at the table in his apartment, the scent of gun oil thick in the air as he works. Slow. Methodical.
Biggs was born Gideon Biggs on the topside of Sector 7 to two Shinra middle managers. Neither was top-ranked or highly important, but they lived comfortably, in a nice house in the employee sector.
Biggs had a relatively normal, comfortable childhood, but as he grew up, he started to have a different idea for what he wanted out of life. Frequently as a child, he'd sneak to the Slums and hang out with the kids there — meeting Wedge, Jessie, and Aerith in the process. He started to love the sense of hope and family there, and became very, very close with Wedge and Jessie in the process.
His family wanted him to work for Shinra the same as they did, and Biggs wasn't interested — he found himself someone who wanted to help people, and he loved kids. He wanted to be a teacher, and had decided as much when he was still a teenager.
This led Biggs to discourse with his family, and at sixteen, things came to a head. Biggs was a very smart child and had already finished school — instead of going to college like his family wanted, Biggs elected to move to the Slums. His family told him, under no uncertain terms, that he would not be allowed back into their home if this was what he chose. With very little money, and few possessions, Biggs moved to the Slums and began working with the Leaf House as a teacher. He dropped use of his first name, leading to Jessie and Wedge being the only people who know his first name.
As Biggs stayed in the Slums, he started to resent Shinra — both due to the fact that his family worked there, and due to the fact that he was seeing up close and personal how horrible Shinra was for the Slums and the people that lived there. Through his close friendship with Wedge and Jessie, he joined AVALANCHE and met Barret, which leads to where he is now, in the AVALANCHE splinter cell.
He keeps his background relatively close to the chest and tells very little of his history to anybody, and he hasn't seen his mother or father since the day he left the upper plate, disowned from his family.
Born twenty-six years ago, Freia was an orphan left wandering in Macalania Woods. With no parents to speak of, and no recollection of where she'd come from, she was found by one who strayed outside the boundaries of Guadosalam...
A single Guado, who took her in & cherished her as his own. Who called her his sister, nurturing and raising her with all the love he could provide her.
However, their time together would be brief. Having chosen to leave the woods of his own accord, her Brother made the choice to pray to the Fayth. To take up the path of the Summoner, with the hopes that people like his Sister may no longer experience the hardship and tragedy of Sin. But this was not to be, for his soul was lost long before his pilgrimage could meet its end...
All that was left was a body, his sole Guardian nowhere to be found. Freia, distraught, left Guadosalam - committing herself to wandering Macalania Woods, her own place of origin. Choosing to live a life of reverence, without the influence of Yeven or its Maester's. Choosing to forsake the ideals of the Summoner, the promise of a fruitless Calm...
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