InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Stay down! Just stay there!"

Rufus ShinRa (whosoldtheworld) wrote in chaosunraveled,
@ 2009-10-19 12:21:00

Entry tags:

flauros, rating: pg, rufus, setting: emptiness

Right now you are down and out and feeling really crappy
Who: Rufus (whosoldtheworld), Flauros (very_bad_advice)
When: Early evening
Where: The restaurant on the corner
Rating: PG for now
Warnings: nothing yet!
Summary: Flauros and Rufus, determined to have the most boring evening ever.

Quarter til five. The early winter air was honing its edge: evening was darkening the streets of Emptiness. Tucked into a shadowed doorway, a sleek black duster over his white suit, Rufus inhaled the razor-wire cold air with relish and watched the streets with his natural, functioning eye. Each time he used the Peng Eye now he felt more drained, a signal (if the last time was anything to go by,) that this cycle of its use was coming to an end. As he had neither finished his business with the magic, nor fulfilled his payment to Lucifer for this use and the first, he had no interest in wasting what time he had left. Even so, the temptation to use the Eye to watch his surroundings was almost unbearable.

There was no guarantee Reno would come if there was a problem, and the blond had made too many enemies here to take stupid risks: until he had the security of a teammate's company (an admittedly dubious defense, considering how little Rufus truly knew of Flauros,) he certainly wasn't going into the bar and turning on the lights. He'd spent too much of his life being cautious to stop now. And perhaps Flauros would be amused by Rufus' paranoia. Perhaps he would approve of it. Perhaps both. Rufus had only spoken to him in passing, or over the comm system, and it was difficult to take the measure of a man that way. And why hadn't he met with Flauros before now? A quiet sigh left his lips as a plume of white in the chill air, and he darted his eye up and down the street once more.

Normally, for a meeting such as this, the President would have a Turk with him, guarding him. Rufus could make do without. Besides, Reno didn't seem to approve of Flauros, and the feeling was apparently mutual— maybe that was why the meeting had not happened sooner. The possibility irked Rufus.

Raising his collar and tucking his hands under his arms, Rufus squinted into the stretching shadows.

((ooc: internet problems + school = late! D: sorry!))

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very_bad_advice
2009-10-20 01:04 am UTC (link)

Flauros didn't really know Rufus all that well either, but the offer of scotch was too good to pass up. Dressing himself in a pair of crisp, ironed dark jeans, a white shirt, and a black sweater; Flauros made his way to the restaurant. Passing by the convenience store, and the tree with the black scar, the demon spotted the restaurant. With a bounce to his step he found himself all, but practically gliding to the location.

As he neared the building, he noticed that Rufus seemed to be waiting for him. He made his way up to the blonde, and gave a cheerful way; "Ready to have the most boring glass of scotch, Cream Cheese?" he asked with a widening grin.

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whosoldtheworld
2009-10-21 01:46 pm UTC (link)

It was more than a little odd to be hailed as "Cream Cheese." He hadn't realized Flauros would actually call him that. He found, oddly enough, though, that the absurd sobriquet was not nearly as disagreeable as being addressed by his first name. No one here called him "ShinRa" or "President" or "Sir" besides Reno: they called him Rufus. It made him twitch. "Cream Cheese" simply made him want to roll his eyes.

"That," Rufus intoned, stepping out of the doorway and offering the man an easy-looking smile and his hand to shake, "sounds like an excellent idea." Flauros appeared relaxed, cheery, precisely what one would expect of the man from his behavior on the comm systems. Rufus made certain his smile reached his eyes. The President had not felt cheerful in the least, lately, and usually drinking around strangers— particularly dangerous strangers —only served to put him more on edge. Tonight, however, he was determined that this, the "most boring glass of scotch ever," would be interesting, if not downright enjoyable. If nothing else, he would cement some sort of working relationship with Flauros, and right now he needed all the allies he could get.

"I was thinking we could open with a discussion of carpet fibers, but if that is not bland enough for your tastes...." He smirked faintly.

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very_bad_advice
2009-10-21 10:52 pm UTC (link)

Flauros accepted Rufus' hand into his own, giving it a firm shake before stepping inside the restaurant. He studied the place and came to the conclusion that it must have been a typical American restaurant that sold a selection of different cuisines. The demon quickly made his way to the bar, and sat down on one of stools.

"Back in 6,000 BCE, people used to shear the wool off of goats and sheep, and weave them together to make a type of floor covering. Some of the ancient people used to soak the fibers in a variety of things." Flauros explained, but then added, "There was a certain man who believed that he could create a carpet bestowed with magical powers if he soaked it in the blood of those sacrificed to the demon Astaroth. Legend has it that the blood, embued with demonic power, possessed the carpet, and was able to fly the man wherever he went."

Flauros grinned, "That's the story of the origins of the flying carpet."

This of course was complete bullshit, but Flauros smoothly transitioned the talk back to something 'boring'. "If you want boring, we should talk about paint drying, now that's boring!"

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whosoldtheworld
2009-10-22 04:16 pm UTC (link)

The handshake was easy and confident. Rufus returned it with a short nod. He followed Flauros inside, clearing the room automatically even as he shook off the clinging cold, and then wove his own way to the bar. The stock was just as diverse as he remembered, peppered here and there with a label he recognized— including the particular bottle of 16 year Cosmoan Scotch whiskey that had inspired this encounter. Shucking his trench and draping it neatly across one of the many empty tables, he ignored the stools for now and maneuvered behind the counter, where he could reach the upper shelves. He was just stretching an arm over his head when Flauros delivered his absurd little story, and Rufus had to stop and stifle a chuckle. Yes, absurdity was just what he needed right now.

"I'm not sure about 6,000 BCE, or flying carpets, but there was— is a man on Gaia with the most unusual ability to turn into a blood red... magical sheet-thing, and fly about." This was, in fact, not complete bullshit. And it never stopped being funny, either. Rufus of course had more tact— and self-preservation —than to laugh in Vincent Valentine's face about it, but turning into monsters was one thing; turning into bedclothes was quite another.

"You're quite right, though," he said, voice turning serious. "We need to tone this conversation down immediately, before it gets completely out of hand." Stretching up again, he snagged the dusty brown bottle about the neck and lowered it carefully, puffing away the grime with a faint grimace, then giving the label a satisfied look. He set it on the counter, and snagged two tumblers and slid them down the counter to settle almost right in front of Flauros. Not that he had any experience behind a bar, of course. He was Rufus ShinRa— what would he possibly know about bars? Certainly pretty Jacinta, with her smooth dark skin, rough hands, deadly wit, and deadlier drinks, had not been incentive enough to sneak out every weekend all one long Junon summer. And certainly she'd never taught him a thing or two about bar tending. Smiling faintly, his hands found the bottle again, and he twisted the cap off and discarded the seal.

"So, tell me, are you a fan of acrylic paints, or oils?"

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very_bad_advice
2009-10-22 04:33 pm UTC (link)

"The ability to turn into a flying red sheet huh?" Flauros asked with a rather amused smile. "Sounds to me like this man had some serious issues."

He proceeded to watch as Rufus set about grabbing the Scotch, and the glasses. Next thing, there were two tumblers right in front of Flauros, and Rufus was twisting the cap off of the bottle. Flauros pointed to the glass on his right, indicating that he wanted that particular glass. While waiting for Rufus to pour the drinks, Flauros placed his hands behind his head, and thought about the question given to him.

"Acrylic paints dry way too fast, and oils are too slow. You could be watching oil paint dry for up to a week or two. I prefer watercolors. They don't dry up too quickly, and they don't take forever to dry up either."

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whosoldtheworld
2009-10-22 05:06 pm UTC (link)

"Hmph," he chuckled. But red blanket or no, Valentine had been a Turk once, and that was enough to keep Rufus from simply going to town on the man's innumerable "issues." He poured a hair over two fingers into first Flauros's glass and then his own, then made his way from behind the bar to settle on a stool beside the man.

"I'm not sure I've ever seen watercolors used," he confessed. He wrapped one hand about his glass and raised it to his lips, breathing in the scent— perfectly right. Encouraging. —before taking a careful sip. That was it— one of the finest scotches Gaia had to offer. With a tiny grin, Rufus relaxed minutely. He'd be careful not to drink too much, of course, but it was extremely relieving to this world could get something as complex as good alcohol perfect. "I've always preferred oils. The colors are richer, and I don't mind the wait. Besides, it's easier to smudge."

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very_bad_advice
2009-10-22 08:35 pm UTC (link)

Flauros took a drink from his glass; a bigger drink than Rufus had. He decided that he liked this particular brand of Scotch, and took another sip of it.

"I was never a painter," Flauros admitted. "Samael, he's the artist, and became known as the first art critic in my world," Flauros added.

He took another drink from the scotch, finishing up the contents, and staring at the glass. "Decent scotch. Not too bad."

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whosoldtheworld
2009-10-23 07:06 pm UTC (link)

"The closest thing to an art supply I've ever touched is a red pen," Rufus snorted. "But to invent art criticism," he took another sip, "that truly is an accomplishment."

Another slow sip. Rufus wondered if he could find more of this in Emptiness. Stashing and hoarding alcohol: another thing he had learned courtesy of the trying months post Meteor. Supply and demand. He'd once traded a bottle of Mideelan Grenache Noir for four pairs of shoes, a rain coat, a trash bag that could be used as a poncho, and a loaf of bread, all to be divided amongst himself and his four Turks.

"Decent," he smirked, and gestured toward the bottle in case Flauros wanted to help himself to more. He rotated his wrist to watch the liquid twirl in the glass. "The Cosmoans make some of the finest Scotch on Gaia. And some of the worst, but I have had just one occasion to try true moonshine, and am thankful only that I do not fully recall the experience." His smirk sharpened into a quick grin. "Peeling paint from the walls with vapors is slightly more interesting than watching it dry."

The first edges of impatience were digging at him to move the conversation forward, into something solid he could build an alliance upon. Caution told him to wait, be patient, feel Flauros out; warned him not to lead this into business until he had a better grasp of the man. Watching the demon from the corner of his eyes, Rufus took another sip.

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very_bad_advice
2009-10-23 07:19 pm UTC (link)

"He mostly went around saying that everything sucked," Flauros admitted. Part of this was a lie, but which part, he would not say.

The demon watched while Rufus seemed to savor the Scotch that he had, and listened while he talked about some place called 'the Cosmoans'. Flauros had to make an effort not to make a crass joke about that name. Without much thought, he took the bottle, and poured himself another drink. "I heard once that one of the countries of my world banned alcohol. Moonshining, and bootlegging became common place during that time. Unfortunately that ended when they decided to re-legalize it. Unfortunately, I was busy doing other things at the time."

Like being trapped in that damn pyramid. He thought bitterly; his smile turning into a frown while he looked at the glass of Scotch.

He took a sip, and decided to savor it. "What's even more fun is trapping people in an unventilated room full of toxic paint and chemicals. I think Bel might have done that once, or twice," he admitted with a coy smirk.

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