#facetious-wanderer

                   “Never lose your sense of adventure.”

At least the drinks were fresh as they came out of that back room on trays. A few times he outreached his hand and grasped one of the flutes, noting that this champagne was one of his personal favorites. He was too engrossed with the taste, he failed to see the young boy who made his way across the red carpet room. He had a mission, that mission was to get a pocketful of gil from a growing dare all around.

Maybe the fact that he didn't realize who exactly Rufus was, other than the only man in the crowd that wasn't afraid to wear white in an area where food and cigars were of abundance. It was a good thing Rufus had a bit of alcohol in his system, otherwise Bartz might have been confronted with a pistol in the gut.

Instead, it was Rufus who was frozen when lips met his, the taste of champagne then mixed with this stranger that suddenly swam within his proximity with a fluid grace that only one light on their feet would achieve. It was observed by a few others, mostly women who were always keeping an eye on single bachelors in the crowd.

'Oh, I knew he swung that way.' They giggled behind hands and equally feathery fans.

The world stopped but Rufus managed to pull away, the look of utter shock washed over him. “What on earth are you doing?” He reached out and grabbed him by the upper arm. This stupid boy.. if his Turks witnessed this...

@facetious-wanderer

“But…”

“Why????”

What bothered Reno the most that morning, after having screamed at the top of his lungs from being ambushed by so many crickets, was how in the fuck they had all gotten in there. First of all, he’d locked the door. Second, there was no other way into his office. So how in the balls . . . It wasn’t until he’d gotten them all out and taken a seat at his desk that he figured out who had put them there. 

And so we have it, still in that office setting.

The rubbing of his shoulders that lingered now to his neck went without consent. The only people that were allowed this sort of treatment to be placed on him were his Turks-- or others that were in an intimate setting with him.

He knew his Turks would murder the boy if they burst into his office and see this play being set on the stage-- it was time to pull the curtain. Hand reached up and grabbed his, gripping onto it with earnest. It was a gesture fringing on a threat.

It was what he said next that caused him to blink a few times.

❝ Oh, your hands are quite cold. ❞

Was he really trying to make small talk based on the temperature of his body? Was he expecting something... warmer?

The order was to tend to his coffee-- he was getting better at the request but there was still a few things missing with the perfect combination of ingredients. Tseng was the only one that accurately performed the intricate measurements that Rufus was known to have.

Instead, Bartz was here in his office, sans coffee, with his hands on the shoulder of the President. It came to a surprise with Rufus, who was minding his time with that loopy handwriting of his on various documents. When the action was performed, he wasn't sure what to say or do. When did Bartz get so bold to think this would be a good idea? No one touched Rufus-- at least no one had the balls to.

He was quite certain early on that Bartz lacked them. It was easy to designate him as the hallway gremlin for this factor-- did he even have a backbone? Well, he certainly grew a spine tonight. Those needle fingers were directing their sights on his neck.

❝ I can tell you got some tension… right there. ❞

There are a few people that he wouldn’t trust with his coffee. Not only because he creates a brew a certain way but for the mere fact that he could not trust them. Bartz, when good, could be trusted. He had no qualms with the small boy when he came fluttering into his office all bright smiles that reached his eyes.

The sad part of all this was that he reminded Rufus of an intern, an eagerly seeking one that wished only for acceptance in the grand system that ShinRa wove.

The first step was to get his coffee right—looking at the object at the corner of his desk with a small saucer underneath, he knew right away that it was off.