@sanctificavi
To come here, of all places, was almost a death wish. In this city, built from the scrap and remnants of Midgar, Rufus Shinra had no friends. Honestly, he had no friends anywhere (at least beyond his Turks) and the one he felt that there was some connection there had moved on to better things. He had no one to turn to, no one to go see - no fashion or means to alleviate the loneliness he felt (a feeling he had harbored from a young age, but one that he was formerly able to keep pressed away by the constant stream of work and people).
This was why he came. There was a surface level excuse - a package that he needed to return to Strife Delivery Service, an incidental misdelivery that a certain someone refused to answer calls about. What was he supposed to do with a bunch of powdered baby formula anyway? Someone would sorely need this more than he - so it was a bit important to give back too.
...Regardless. Here he was at the remade Seventh Heaven (not alone, of course. Rude and Reno had to come along). For this occasion, he had dressed down - a dark colored high collared sweater that hid the pitted scarring around the majority of his neck. For once, he wore his hair down, rather than gelled slightly back, and a pair of sunglasses borrowed from Rude to cover his family’s signature eyes, the ones he had hidden for so long (and continued to, when he at all could. There just was simply no way to make contacts now, and it was a waste of resources to make more of them when it could go to building). His pants, too, were plain, similar to those of the common working class about here.
He was comfortable - but he felt distinctly unlike himself. Still, it was his idea to blend in, and honestly, wearing his old favorite white suits sometimes made him feel almost sick. He tried, often as he could, to revive them from the emotions that clouded their pristine shape...but it was hard to release everything that happened two and a half, nearly 3 years ago. So hard. He still refused to enter basement levels if he could, and the sound of chains (even those used for construction) often brought him to another place entirely.
With the plain, cardboard box under one arm, he entered the bar, listening to the wooden door swoosh open without a creak, accompanied by the slight tingling of a bell. It was homey here; comfortable, again, with its wooden interior and calm, even lighting. Behind the bar - the exact person he was expecting. As the bell chimed, she even turned, her face bright and red eyes gleaming - and now...her face falls on seeing Reno and Rude and himself. No doubt she took one look at them and recalled everything at once.
So Rufus lifted the box up. “Return package for Strife Delivery. Reached the wrong people. I’d like to...bring it back to its rightful owner.