@yikeen asked : he can’t say it’s often, the times rufus sheds himself of his coats, no. tseng knows he doesn’t /have/ to, but he doesn’t mind stepping behind him and offer, “ allow me to help you, ” if it’s any more convenient for rufus.
layers of invulnerability shed like snake molting its skin. he’s freed of one single layer of clothing, then another. he feels exposed. naked, in a sense. a serpent with fresh skin in the form of black silk, revealed once white linen is peeled from his form. though, unexpectedly, his shadow behind him is quick to aid him in the removal of aforementioned jacket.
a rare, unfading sense of ambivalence unveils itself along with the silk. for another to become so intimately acquainted with his person, one he’d known for quite a long time, gnaws at the being beneath all the lies and his perfected mask. the armor he’s built ‘round his form to fortify the semblance of invincibility, ultimately damaged by the aid offered to him by another. and he’s able to focus on nothing more than the whisper breathed in his direction and the warmth that follows suit.
he does, indeed, allow the other to remove the second sleeve before turning and retrieving the jacket, placing it carefully behind the chair, his make - shift throne. there are words lingering on the very edge of roseate lips, searching for release. but no words make their grand arrival, only a gentle nod of thanks on his behalf. outwardly, he’s crafted such a remarkable facade, and he need not worry over the expression ‘pon its form. he knows his lips are pulled into a thin line, brows loosened enough to denote a sense of ease, yet there is strong contemplation tempting them to furrow.
when he seats himself ‘pon the chair, hands work their way up his forearms, rolling the sleeves up with such care as to not wrinkle the fabric, a habit he found himself doing quite often when alone in his office in junon. though, he realizes tseng’s presence lingers, and he looks to fill the silence as he risked exposure : ❛ no meetings today? ❜ eyes fixed on the other as he says aloud a query he already knew the answer. perhaps, he had no need to fear exposure —— not around one so fiercely loyal. tseng has seen far more than just a president shed his jacket : he’d witness the betrayal of a son, a vice president, who sought after his own father’s death. there was not much else for rufus to hide from tseng, save for the very skin that covered his skeleton.
with that train of thought, he’s unable to stop the flow of words as they come : ❛ well, then, i suppose you have time for a drink. ❜ a hand, acting of its own accord, gestures out to the nearest chair on the opposite side of the desk. he may as well continue, taking back his words now would be ridiculous. so, smoothly, he says : ❛ sit with me for a moment. ❜
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