He had rarely seen her out, as she was one of the ‘projects’ Hojo liked to keep to the shadows as he worked, he assumed, to perfect her (he would claim she was a part of the project, but the claim was so lax and almost inviting someone to challenge him so he could brag, and Sephiroth was no fool--he knew the grooming of a tool or weapon when he saw it). Today, however, was different--were they allowing exposure as a part of her growth? He couldn’t yet say, he’d never found the patience to really care.
But something about how she’d look at him, and stare...it tugged his attention lately, and he was drawn by instinct, really, to begin staring back and observing her.
So when she was left at the Science Departments table in the mess hall, with nothing before her but a few simple small samples, he couldn’t say for sure of whether or not their were her pick, or her designated meal by others. Either way, it was pitiful. So he took up his platter, half eaten, and still with meat and a bagel and various other necessary food groups, and he marched over to where she had been left ignored apart from the bored gaze of an intern, and he slid the platter before her.
He waited for her eyes to meet his, feeling that instinctual tug once more, before muttering, “They have horrible taste in food. Give this a try. If they complain, tell them I gave you my leftovers.”
With that, he turned and made his way out.
There wasn’t exactly much going on in her head as far as thoughts went, the girls mind slowly catching up to the extreme growth forced on her body with constant exposure to time materia. She’d reached the proper ‘age’ to start more invasive testing and training and since the spell wasn’t needed anymore they’d removed the feeding tube and were attempting to get her to eat normally… but she didn’t know how. She sat staring at the humans to learn and the white-coat that had brought her didn’t help- only sat tapping away on a data-pad.
She was always drawn to him; eyes managing to locate that silver hair no matter what. It seemed to intrigue the Professor, those creepy glasses glinting and him feverously making notes. It was the same here, inhuman eyes locking on to their mirror, unblinking in their wide searching gaze.
She couldn’t speak yet, and this was the first time anyone had directly addressed her. Sitting quietly and reaching for a small piece of food from his plate as he walked away, tilting her head at the morsel and the pull that grew and stayed the further away he went. The white-coat now paying attention, because of the interaction, furiously typing out something to send Hojo; notes that spurred his research into another project he was hiding.
