Tell me, do you spend time with your family? Who: Rufus (whosoldtheworld), Yako (theculpritis) When: Early evening Where: Niflheim Library Rating: PG Warnings: really light language. Also, long log is long >.> Summary: Finally, Rufus has a half normal encounter. With Yako, no less! (done on AIM. Complete)
Niflheim had, since the day Rufus arrived, reminded the President of Nibelheim, the mountain residence where he had spent several summers as a child with his family— or, more often, with the Turks, while his mother and father ignored each other in other parts of the house. If Niflheim was a little less dusty, and decidedly more lived-in, it was still old, and— Rufus thought as he waited at a corner for someone to leave the next hall, the floorboards creaking under their receding footsteps —just as likely to reduce him to skulking about. I always knew that place was hell.
His left eye turned yellow-gold for a second as he activated the Peng Eye and drifted his consciousness from room to room, hall to hall, scanning the path ahead of him. He wanted to get to the library. It had been his favorite place to hide in Nibelheim, he remembered, and he saw no reason for it to fail him here. Yako was there, he'd seen, but the place was easily large enough that he could avoid her. Even if she spotted him, they could ignore each other. He doubted she had any interest in starting a conversation with him after their last encounter. Unwinding from the spell of the Peng Eye, expertly extracting himself from the giddiness it inspired, he wove through the halls.
He made it to the large door without encountering anyone, and with a silent sigh, pulled them open and slipped inside.
'...Legends of many lands relate that the vixen is a sorceress in disguise, lurking in the forests and sometimes assuming the looks of a beautiful woman who, once she had cast her evil spell, changed to animal form.' Yako sighed and snapped the dusty tome shut, carefully placing it on the low table beside her. She was draped languidly over a surprisingly comfortable—though, of course, blood-stained—arm-chair, her head cushioned by one arm and her legs dangling over the other. She had been researching possible leads on her dreams and blackouts once again, with just as few results.
She rubbed a hand over her face tiredly, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment. None of it made any sense. Really, it was as though the key piece to tie everything together was right in front of her, just barely out of her reach. Exhaling loudly in frustration, she picked up another volume from her pile. "...'Some consider the presence of a fox in one's dreams to symbolize their rival or competitor. One should take immediate steps to defeat him or her'." She recited, before letting her head fall back against the arm cushioning it with a groan. "Like that helps at all!"
Her voice broke the silence abruptly, and Rufus started, closing the door a bit more loudly than he'd intended. He turned to peer at her, blinking a bit; opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, annoyed. He was not here to talk. That sense of familiarity, the nagging presence of his not-memories, had faded almost entirely, but what little was left still managed to roughen the edges of his comfort just with the sight of her. Maybe this hadn't been such a brilliant idea. Shaking his head, Rufus left the door and drifted toward the stacks.
Yako muffled a startled exclamation and nearly toppled over as she hastily twisted around to peer at the newcomer. Once she saw that it was merely Rufus, she relaxed once more, pressing a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart. "Jeeze, you startled me. Give a girl some warning, will you?" There were several key people she did not want in the know about her psychological issues; luckily, Rufus was not among that select few.
"Did you need a signed permission form? Or maybe I should have phoned ahead?" he snapped. Then he pressed his lips tight to stifle a sigh, and murmured, "Please, return to your..." he gestured vaguely. Something about foxes and dreams. It hadn't seemed very important, except that she apparently found the information wanting. He couldn't seem to stir his usual curiosity from its hiding place. "I'm not here to interrupt."
Except that he couldn't seem to stir any interest in the books, either. He considered the shelves and shelves before him: a few of the mightier tomes looked like the sort he might have dragged to his room under cover of darkness, as a child. The thought did not inspire nostalgia. Instead, he wondered why he was here.
"A simple knock, would've been fine." she bit back, still a little on edge. "Of course a 'Hello, Yako', or, 'Good evening Yako' is always preferred." A slight trace of annoyance sneakily wormed its way into her voice. He had some nerve, startling her and then giving her a hard time about it. She huffed once more and decided to follow his advice, but not before giving her own.
"They're sorted by subject." Yako informed him. "A to Z. If there's something you're looking for, it's better to start with the broader categories and work your way down." It hadn't even occurred to the young detective that he might be there for actual recreational purposes.
Who's to say that wouldn't have startled you just as much? he thought. The words went unspoken, and he shook his head, wishing away his distraction. He stiffened when she spoke again, and once more he wanted to snap, to assure her sharply that he knew how to use a library, thank you. Once more he suppressed the urge.
But here he was, still staring at the same row, at the same bindings, peering at them like he'd never seen such a thing before. He glanced back at Yako, wishing she wasn't there so he could be confused in privacy; frustratingly glad for the quiet human company. His shoes tapped the floor lightly as he drifted right up to the first shelf, running his fingers along one spine and pulling it away with a thin layer of dust.
"Why are you here?" He hadn't meant to say it aloud. It wasn't like he honestly cared, or even wanted to fill up the silence. The President carefully did not glance at Yako, as though he hadn't even spoken.
Yako was silent, perhaps one beat too long to simply be considered thoughtful. "...nothing of real importance." she sad blandly, flipping herself so that she was perched upright in her armchair. Her current book was even less use to her than the previous two: it was on Japanese legends and folklore of the fox, and glancing down at the page it had fallen open to, the smaller blonde had to stifle a self-depreciating laugh at what she saw.
'The zenko (literally 'good foxes') are benevolent, celestial foxes associated with the god Inari; they are sometimes simply called Inari foxes. On the other hand, the yako (literally 'field foxes', also called nogitsune) tend to be mischievous or even malicious.' It was hard not to see how completely steeped in irony it all was. A 'good' Yako on Hell's side, having nightmares of decidedly evil foxes. "What about you?"
His eyes flitted toward her when the silence stretched just a breath too long. His interest may have been elsewhere, but he wasn't so detached that he did not bother to listen for the answer to his own question, no matter how trivial. So, he concluded, torpid curiosity finding impetus, Yako's business here is something more than casual. And the way she was apparently down-playing its significance indicated that whatever he'd stumbled upon was at least somewhat sensitive. Or it means she's uncomfortable talking to you after waking up in your arms, shirt, and bed not a week ago. Not everything is a conspiracy.
He sighed, sending a light puff of dust motes spiraling. "I am...." How to respond? Another telling silence breathed between them. Rufus frowned. "Looking."
I don't think I can take much more of this, Yako mused, feeling the heavy, awkward silence press down around them once more. Cracking her back with a tired sigh, she moved to peer around the edge of her chair at him. "'A-particular-book' looking, 'please-leave-me-be' looking, or 'I'm-just-browsing' looking?" She queried, sick of the slightly cryptic feeling the two of them had been cultivating with their vague non-answers.
Yako was not, by nature, one to let a singly embarrassing situation completely destroy a relationship. Not even if the situation in question was comprised of false marriage and affection. If she didn't make a move to smooth things over, she doubted that they would ever be able to return to a 'normal' association. Or at least, as normal as possible given their current situations and occupations.
The popping of her back made Rufus frown in distaste, though he did not look up. He did feel her eyes upon him, and forced his shoulders to relax.
"Does it matter?" he bit off, then winced. He'd instigated the conversation, hadn't he? Briefly he toyed with the idea of apologizing. "It... does not matter," he murmured, and that was as close as he would get. She, of all the people here, did not deserve to bear the brunt of his mood. Not that he'd ever really been discriminate before, and he wondered if perhaps those "memories" that still floated around in the back of his head were in some way affecting his opinion of the woman. Girl. His frown deepened. He unslotted a tome at random, glancing at the cover. It was in a language he did not understand. His frown twisted up into an angry smirk.
"I wonder if any of these are in a language I understand."
Yako flinched slightly at the bite in his tone, but shrugged it off as best she could. "Ah, well, there are at least twenty that I know I can read." The latest five of which were piled by her today. "So...." Yako shifted again, not wanting the silence to take over yet again. "How have you been? We....haven't really spoken lately." Since that morning, anyways.
A slight flush rose rebelliously to her cheeks as she reflected on how foolish that line of thought was. Of course he wouldn't want to talk with somebody who made him remember that weird other life. It was hard enough forgetting about it without such a vivid reminder.
Rufus glanced at her again, then closed his eyes, returned the book to the shelf, and drew in a deep breath. He needed awkward small talk like he needed a hole in the head, but he couldn't bring himself to simply ignore her, or her pretty flush. "I have had better weeks," he admitted, candid in the leathery quiet of the library.
Slinking around the shelves where she might not see him, he spoke softly. "I have not spoken much to anyone, I don't think." He plucked down another book. The leather cover was unmarked. "And how are you?"
"I'm...as well as can be expected." It was kind of stepping around the question once more, but it was better than saying 'Oh yeah, pretty good, not counting the fact that I kind of made out with you a little while ago, on top of the dreams I think might be slowly driving me insane.' Yako turned back to the squat table she had commandeered for her research and picked up the large mug of hot chocolate she had brought with her. It was still lukewarm, and gave her a moment to consider what she was going to say next.
"Do you want to?" He sounded as if there was something weighing down on his mind. Yako briefly considered that she might be trespassing into unwelcome territory, but finished her offer anyways. "Talk to someone, I mean."
Should I expect some level of wellness from anyone here? Her offer fell into the quiet room, and he cringed.
"No. No. Thank you." He replaced the book in his hands, and as he scanned the shelves again he happened to spot a spine with a title written in an alphabet he recognized, and words he understood. Smiling victoriously, he stood on tiptoe, stretched one arm above his head and groped about with his fingers for some hold upon the slick paper binding. Just an inch farther.... "Damn!" Settling back on his heels, he glanced around for some sort of stepping stool or ladder. It figured, didn't it?
"Nothing is ever easy. I really ought to know that by now."
"The offer stands, if you ever need it." Yako honestly didn't know why she expected anything different. She continued sipping her cocoa quietly, eyes trained on the ornate bindings in front of her. His exclamation startled her out of the silent reverie she had accidentally slipped into.
Turning back around to peer at him once more, she took stock of the situation. "There are some chairs." She offered helpfully. In theory there was a rolling ladder too, but she wasn't quite sure where it was right now. "If everything was easy, would anything be worth it?"
"I do not want everything to be easy," he muttered, ignoring her advice about the chair and tugging two of the thicker books off of the lowest shelf. Stacked, they bore a reasonable resemblance to a stepping stool— and really, reasonable was all Rufus was asking for. He stepped up gingerly, and reached again. "I ask only that the occasional task not be... hn!" His fingers caught on the upper lip of the spine. It fell forward after several tugs, and Rufus clutched the pages and pulled it off the shelf.
"I ask only," he repeated, "that the occasional task not be more convoluted than is called for." He hopped down from his faux platform, and turned the book over in his hands. The Godfather, it was called. It wasn't one he was familiar with.
Yako let out a small laugh as she watched him. "I think everybody asks that. I'm not too sure if anyone ever gets it." Tilting her head to the side thoughtfully, she amended her previous statement. "Or maybe that's just the way it is for people with highly stressful jobs." Like homicide detectives and company presidents.
Yako gnawed at her lip pensively. "So....." There were very few things Yako could say at this point to keep the conversation alive, and she inadvertently blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "So...a koi? Is it for the same reasons he said?" Horrified, she clapped a hand over her mouth. Shit.
Rufus froze. His left shoulder itched again as he thought about the brand. With a quiet breath to quell the faint dropping sensation in his stomach as he thought again of how she knew, and had seen, all the marks on his body....
"I got it a very long time ago," he replied, in place of an actual answer. The fact that he still felt the draw of the inking meant only that he'd chosen well. As was expected. As he'd intended. It would be a straight lie to say the tattoo had been an impulsive gesture. Turning the book absently in his hands, he admitted, perhaps a tad self-consciously, "It would be a waste, to assign it no meaning at all...."
"Yeah." Yako hunched her shoulders slightly, praying to God that he was firmly repressing the other set of memories. Specifically the one where Yako ShinRa had informed him of the other ways koi were symbolic.
"....sorry." she murmured. "I don't know why i said that. We agreed to forg--to ignore it. Sorry." Yako ducked her head in an apologetic pseudo-bow and turned back to her mug, cheeks flaming with mortified self-reproach. What was wrong with her? Seriously. What possessed her to bring his tattoo up, of all things?
He only partly remembered her other interpretation of his tattoo: the word "koi," in her native japanese, also meant "love." It was a specific kind of love, though, either familial or romantic, and Rufus couldn't remember which. It didn't really matter. At 15 he had thought the dragon-gate koi a fierce symbol of perseverance, defiance, strength... swimming against the current, the saying was. That she would raise so obviously personal a topic, however, made Rufus frown.
He was opening his mouth to accept Yako's apology when an abrupt flash of memory struck him mute: his first conflict with Reno in this awful place, and the first time he'd felt any... any of that ridiculous discomfort around the redhead. He swallowed a bit thickly.
The image in his mind's eye centered around the business end of his own gun. Reno's eyes were above the weapon, the Turk taking careful aim at his President. Except they had not been Turk and President, that day. Well, not to Reno. Reno had thought he was some sort of gang leader from Midgar, and as fitted a man in such a position, he had borne great, colorful tattoos across his shoulders. Koi. These were what Rufus recalled, now, so suddenly he nearly dropped the book.
What did it all mean? Was there a meaning, or was this world simply fucking with his head? Swimming against the current....
Turning in place, he peered at Yako, noting her obvious discomfort, but too off-balance to respond to it one way or another. Curious, that she had brought it up....
Yako stared down at her knees, still mentally berating herself. Her eyes did, however, slide back towards Rufus as she heard him fumble with the book. "...." She had opened her mouth, to ask again if he was certain that he was alright...only to shut it once more. She would, most likely, only end up insulting him, or making things even more awkward somehow.
The small blonde shifted, drawing her legs up under her as she curled into the cushy upholstery. It was an almost unconscious, defensive movement, as if she was trying to pull away from any other unwise impulses.
Her discomfort was tangible, an element he was familiar with, almost friendly with— when it belonged to someone else. But he was the one living in fear, lately: defensive, reactionary. Weak. He had let his confusion overcome him, and it had forced him away from his goal. I've been moving with the current.
Whatever the reason for this insanity, he could deal with it later. The present, here, now, with Yako, was more important. The present was salvageable. Looking at the young woman still triggered the echoes of false memories, uncomfortable and nearly unbearable in the wake of his recent confusion. He did not look away.
There was an opportunity here, and he was kicking himself for not seeing it earlier, for not being as aware as he should have been. Discomfort, he thought. It was in her posture, her eyes, the faint coloring of her skin. She cared about his opinion of her, genuinely cared.
Easy enough, to twitch his lips in a smile. It would look awkward, but that would only work to his advantage.
"Thank you," he murmured. "For reminding me of that."
Yako managed to brush off her shyness long enough to peer at him incredulously. "...you're welcome...?" Her tone was utterly puzzled. The total 180 threw her; he had just been cut off, gruff and uncomfortable. Now he was thanking her.
"...happy to help I guess." It was mumbled, and her eyes dropped down again. That smile...it was cute. Yako opened another one of the books she had selected--one of the ones she had already read and discarded--in an attempt to distract herself from the twisting feeling in her stomach. It was obvious that Rufus was an attractive man; Yako would have had to be blind not to see that. But that day as Yako ShinRa had given a new depth to that attraction, and so far Yako had been doing just fine, forgetting what loving him felt like.
She refused to let spurious memories color her feelings--and subsequent social relations with Rufus. Yako tried to remember whatever Reno's advice about the kissing had been, but drew a nervous blank.
It took so little to make her so nervous. Not surprising, he supposed, when his own memories were still tilted enough to grind uncomfortably against the thought of hurting her; using her. He breathed a quiet sigh, a genuinely weary sound, and drifted a step down the shelves, still turning the book over in his hands. Obviously she'd picked up on his temper, before. It was only reasonable for her to be confused by the change in his tone.
"I apologize," he said softly. "For being rude, earlier. I've... been on edge." An understatement of remarkable proportions. Inadvertently, his thoughts drifted to why he was in such a state. He frowned deeply, and the book's rotation slowed between his fingers.
She traced a seemingly lazy pattern over her drawn up knees, focusing on the slow path of her fingertip and systematically shoving back the other memories. "It's fine." Her voice had an embarrassed undertone. She shouldn't have slipped like that. She had honestly been doing pretty well up until then.
"You're not the only one," Yako admitted, sighing herself. God knew she had been pretty close to ripping into him before things turned awkward. She had been having to practice controlling her tongue more and more each day, instead of automatically lashing out, biting back as many of the insults and snide remarks as she could.
"Hm?" Pulled from his thoughts, he looked back at her over his shoulder. "No. No, I suppose I wouldn't be, would I." Though, now that he was paying attention, the distinct lines of long-held strain had appeared in Yako: the tense set of her shoulders, the weary cast to her eyes, the nervous line of her jaw... subtle things. Once again, they were things Rufus ought to have noticed before now.
"Are you doing well?" He gave her a questioning look.
"You already asked that," She reminded him. "And I'm as well as can be expected, all things considered." Not that she was going to get into what all those 'things' were. As much as she liked Rufus, the only people she had really told anything about her current issues to were Balam and Blythe, the two people she had cared for and trusted the most.
No offense was meant to Rufus in that casual side-step....she just didn't trust him on that level yet. She hadn't known him long enough, or thoroughly enough, to predict whether he would twist it to his advantage or not.
"And you already gave me that response." He raised an eyebrow at her, but shrugged a moment later, not about to press the issue. He didn't really expect her to open up to him— not that easily. "You simply looked... weary." Yako was naïve in her own ways, but privacy wasn't one of them. If she had been that idiotically free with her own information there was no way she would have survived this long. He did recall an incident wherein she told a certain inbred hick Rufus' name, but that wasn't quite the same as baring your soul to a relative stranger. And if her problems were in the same vein as his own— perplexing and devastating —then to share them could be nothing less than a baring of the soul. Rufus knew he would rather strip naked than tell her... tell her what had transpired between himself and Reno.
Not that she wouldn't know what to expect, if I stripped. Resentment, again. He could not help but resent her her knowledge, her inmalicious invasion of his privacy. But there was much too much else on his plate to let emotions steal his focus, so he quelled the brief flare of annoyance, and waved a hand equably. He turned back to the books.
"What brings you here?"
He repeated another question, and Yako suppressed another sigh. "Foxes." She told him. She didn't feel like parroting vague answers that might pique his curiosity, and he had most likely heard the passage about dream relevance she had read aloud. Hopefully, he would just let the matter drop.
"And I haven't been sleeping very well." It was reassuring, to know that Reno had kept his word about her condition. '...don't tell, okay? Not even Rufus! Promise.' A little bit of the tension in her body relaxed. Reno was nice, but a part of her had doubted that he would.
A quick glance at the pile of dusty tomes at her feet, and his memory of her frustrated exclamation when he first entered the room, and Rufus determined there was more to her business here than foxes. But again, he wasn't going to push. Right now he wanted to build trust, not make her nervous and wary by prying into her business. Had he been aware Reno was keeping information from him, however, Rufus' response would have been decidedly less friendly.
"Hn," he said. And, because it was always the first thing to come to mind when he thought of missed sleep, he muttered, "Nightmares?"
"....kind of." Yako said carefully. "My job sometimes takes a rather unpleasant toll." Completely true. Before the Black Dreams started, most of her nightmares had been related to the murders she had witnessed. She did thank him for not following that line of thought, but this one was still a little unwelcome. It hit too close to the heart of her real issue.
"Nothing I'm not used to." The Black Dreams had been occurring for the past several months. So she was 'used to them'--she just didn't welcome them at all, or even want to be used to them.
Rufus took note of the careful way she picked through her sentences, as though the wrong words were land mines. What are you dancing around, Yako? he wondered. I struck a nerve. Nightmares, it is. Nightmares, and....
Foxes. She said she was here for foxes. 'Some consider the presence of a fox in one's dreams to symbolize their rival or competitor....' Like that helps at all! More than casual frustration had colored her voice, he thought, replaying the moment in his head. It had been something closer to desperation. Foxes, he thought. It was a strange subject, but who was he to expect other people's problems to be normal? How much to push, though? There was a fine line between sincere and nosy....
Glancing down at the book in his hands, he kept his tone polite, if only half interested. "And does dream interpretation help?" As soon as he spoke, he frowned a bit, and glanced up from the book's back cover. "You would not happen to know what... 'New York' is. A city? From the sounds of it. This synopsis assumes I would know...."
"...As you may have guessed from my manner, no. It was next to useless." Yako grinned, attempting to laugh it off. "But those sorts of things rarely are anything but. I'm not sure why I expected anything else." She stood and stretched languidly, her body stiff from its curled position.
She cocked her head to the side at Rufus' question, before nodding. "Yeah, it's a city in a state of the same name, in a country called the United States of America. Really big city--famous theaters, monuments, it's a hop skip and a jump away from the United Nations Head Quarters...they wouldn't need to give too much detail if you were from my world, or a parallel of it."
For a moment he thought he must have completely missed the mark, thinking these nightmares were a serious problem for Yako. He was gratified to see his guess about the foxes and the dreams hit the mark, but the grin and the laughter were so... intentionally deceptive that he thought for sure they couldn't be forced. Except that there was a faintly stilted quality to the laughter, and her smile was a shade too tight. You're no stranger to deceiving others, are you? It took a conscious effort to keep his expression bland. You're very familiar with that smile, Yako.
He looked back at the book, forcing himself to listen to the rest of what she said. It wasn't too difficult, when she spoke of countries and "United States" and "United Nations."
"Hn." 'New York' didn't really sound like Midgar. Midgar hadn't had any real monuments, and nothing to do with uniting anything, except the power grid. Its theater "district" had consisted of Loveless, a play based on the unfinished poem of the same name. And New York certainly didn't sound like Junon, which had always had something of an inferiority complex, despite being one of the biggest cities in the world and the home of the Sister Ray. "I'm assuming this book is from earth, then." He held it up for her to see, momentarily sidetracked by curiosity.
Yako stepped closer, her eyes running over the alien characters that, she assumed, spelled out the work's title. “I’m not so sure," she mused. Yako more than welcomed the change in conversational direction. Slim fingers rose and automatically pushed back the blonde locks that fell forward as she bent her head to examine the cover.
"What's it called?" she asked. "If this is a translation of something from my world, I may have heard of it before." It would be interesting to see how the different characters matched up. Abruptly realizing she was invading his personal space, she moved back a step, but mentally patted herself on the back for not freaking out over his proximity.
She was a little too close, and he would have stepped back except that she spoke, and he was distracted realizing his mistake. Rufus blinked, brushing his own bangs out of his eyes.
"Ah. Right." He leaned away from her, just a fraction of an inch, forcing himself not to be obvious. She backed off again only a moment later, though, and he rolled one shoulder slightly with relief. "It's called The Godfather," he told her. "By... Mario Puzo." He pronounced the foreign name carefully. "It appears to be fiction, though I'm not sure...." He looked inside the jacked and nodded. "Fiction." He glanced up at her questioningly.
"...." Yako tapped her lip thoughtfully, rocking back on her heels as she racked back through her memory, searching for the name. It was slightly familiar, and came to her after another moment. "Well, I know an American film by the same title. It's about gangsters; maybe it was based off this book?"
She had never heard of it, but she didn't read that many books in English, outside of school assignments. "Sorry." she shrugged a little. "If it was from Japan, I'd be able to give you a definite answer." Her eyes drifted back to the book that mentioned yako and zenko. It was a relief that, most likely, he wouldn't be able to read it. It may have given him the wrong idea.
"...Italian mafia...?" he read, and glanced up in time to catch her eyes moving to her own books. Internally kicking himself for being distracted (he truly was out of sorts, wasn't he? It was an entirely new world to learn about, yes, but that was hardly an excuse...) he forced himself not to transmit the sudden refocusing of his thoughts.
"American. As in 'United States of America?'"
"The very same." Yako confirmed with a smile, gaze snapping back to him. "And yes, that's the right context too. Quick on the uptake, aren't you?" Time would tell if that was a good thing or bad thing for her. Yako sincerely hoped it was the former. Rufus being his seemingly emotionally capricious self on its own was...disquieting. Him having something over her combined with that was not a very reassuring thought.
"Well, we had mafias on Gaia." ShinRa had controlled the mafia, in Midgar, mostly using the Turks— a feat the former President had not appreciated nearly as much as he should have. "Though I'm unfamiliar with the designation 'Italian.'" He did not respond to her observation: he was quick on the uptake. There was no reason to make an event of it. What he wanted, now, was an ally, not another pair of eyes watching him carefully.
"Hn. Perhaps I'll look for something from my own world," he muttered, absently. "Interesting as it may be, the constant reference to places and things that I know nothing about...." He raised an eyebrow at Yako. "I prefer reading books I understand."
"Hmm..." The offer almost slid off her tongue then, but she held back for a moment, turning over the idea and its pros and cons. Helping Rufus with this....on the bright side, it might help her finally wipe out the dwindling remainders of that faux-love, and maybe gain her another solid ally. There was, however, still the chance that it would reinforce the fake memories, not to mention that the more time she spent with him, the greater the chance that he would witness her one of her little 'fits'.
"Well," Yako said, finally coming to a decision. "I could probably help you with most of your questions, supposing that my Earth isn't too divergent from that Earth." She gestured to the book, and waited for his response.
It was only many years of practice that kept the pleased smile from Rufus ShinRa's face. Instead he blinked at Yako with a surprised frown— as though he had not intended and hoped to inspire that very offer.
The more time he spent with her, the more the false memories would (he decided) fade; the more he would learn about her; the more likely she would be to consider him a "close" ally. And, supposing the book wasn't terrible... it would not be a terrible way to spend some of his excess time.
"No, I would not wish to impose." He shook his head, and glanced back to where he'd left the two large "stepping stool" books on the floor, as though he meant to return it to the shelves.
Yako sighed, but nodded. "It really isn't an imposition...but it's up to you. It's not as though I have anything else to do, really." She hadn't fully expected him to take her up on it, and wasn't going to push. If he didn't want to spend time with her, after everything that had happened, she wouldn't blame him in the least.
For a moment, she wondered if he was simply parroting formalities, but shook the thought away. It wouldn't do to let vague hopes that weren't even hers dream up scenarios. "The offer stands if you change your mind." she told him anyways.
He let his eyes turn from the bookshelf to Yako, and back. Indecisive was the name of the game, and timing was the key to authenticity... except that when he looked down at the book something eager jumped into his thoughts. He'd like to read this book. He hadn't read anything in a long time— nothing bound, anyway, and certainly not fiction, (bullshit notwithstanding.) 200 or 400 page documents didn't count. And I would be spending time with Yako.
"You're sure you wouldn't mind?" The words had barely left his mouth and he was smothering the urge to wince. Too soon, too eager, (too plaintive) and that last thought that inspired the slip hadn't even been his own. He wanted to backpedal, but knew it would only draw attention to his mistake. Hopefully he hadn't killed the opportunity...
"Not at all." Yako looked up with a bright, reassuring smile. The tone made her think that the memories may have had a hand in his quick reconsideration, but it didn't bother her as much as it should have. "It'll be interesting." And now she was certain the former refusal sprung from simple niceties.
This time he couldn't suppress the wince. He needed to break from this stupor— it was making him unbearably clumsy, and judging by the sunny smile, no doubt intended to reassure, Yako had noticed. One hand brushed his bangs back. Perhaps it was time to make his retreat.
"Indeed, I believe it would be interesting." Stepping away as casually as he could, Rufus nodded to himself. "You shall let me know when it is convenient for you?"
"Yeah, sure thing. Sometime in the next few days then?" As she spoke, Yako began to make her retreat, bending to scoop up the volumes she had been perusing. After shelving them once more, she dusted her hands off on the beaten pair of capris she had on, and nodded at Rufus. "Well, I should probably leave you to your search then." The teen snagged her empty mug and made her way to the door. It wasn't as though she would be able to focus anymore, so she might as well leave now. "See you around."
Rufus had thought he'd have to be the one to leave, but if she was on her way out... then he wouldn't mind some time to peruse the shelves for something he could read on his own. And if he did find something, then he could curl up in a corner and read the evening away. When was the last time he'd done that? Just found something to take his thoughts away from the world? Away from Reno and Maria and Yako and foxes and Niflheim and Asgard...?
Startled by how appealing that sounded, by how much better he felt, he nodded a bit distractedly at Yako, then forced himself to focus on her for a proper farewell.
"Yes. I will." He twitched her a weak smile. "Thank you, again." Taking a deep breath, he tucked The Godfather under his arm, and returned to the shelves.