Disclaimer: I do not own CCFF7, the world, the characters, yada-ya. Square Enix does. I own the yaoi and writing.

Warning: If you don't like yaoi, run away. Yaoi, alcohol, language, etc. LazardxTseng and some other, more implied pairings. Potential for Crisis Core spoilers. There will be mention of SephirothxGenesis.

Music: (I always write to music, though I never include lyrics in the writing. I dislike songfics) The Crisis Core soundtrack is used a lot here.

Author's Note: I've been dying to write as Lazard and Tseng while working on my other fanfic (The Memory of Falling). This fic takes place during the events of my other fanfic, and will make reference to some of those events. Not to advertise for myself, but this one would make the most sense if the other fic is read first. Thanks! R&R is always cherished.

LYING IS A DANCE FOR TWO

Prologue: Welcoming Committee

It was a nice office, if cold. He had to be cold. That was what the people would expect of him, what SOLDIER would expect of him. He ran a white gloved hand over the glass desk; it still smelled brand-new. His eyes, behind rectangular glasses, raked over the sterile metal room. It was supposed to be his office, and his office would not be so cold.

Lazard picked up the phone of the desk, dialing the number. A voice answered on the other side, Lazard making his request in a low, even voice. He gave exact directions. Being so thorough was part of his job. One misstated word and SOLDIER could be knocking down a mako reactor instead of fighting AVALANCHE, who attacked ShinRa on a regular basis. It was almost like clockwork.

Hanging up the phone, he looked around the office. It was empty right now, other than his simple desk, a computer and a phone on it. He needed to fix that… people were coming to help him with such a task, so Lazard could focus on other issues.

Like why there was a Turk in his office.

His ears had not heard the Turk enter, though his eyes spoke otherwise. A moderately young man came through the partial dividers keeping the main office separate from the waiting room, black hair in a ponytail, eyebrows angular, a dot on his forehead. Wutainese? In ShinRa? Lazard smiled at that thought, wondering how much President ShinRa had to pay to get such a person.

"May I help you?" Lazard asked in a careful tone, observing the immaculate black suit, the hawk-like nature of the man. Predatory brown eyes locked on Lazard, the Director of SOLDIER stepping behind his desk, as if the glass and metal structure would somehow give protection.

"You are Lazard Deusericus?"

That voice was low, lower than Lazard had expected, sharp and to the point. There was no accent. Lazard was not so much surprised by that as he was disappointed. The man, despite how lithe he was, would have been a lot less intimidating with a thick accent. "Yes." Caution was still paramount. Lazard sat, right hand on his knee. That knee was right next to the gun strapped on to the bottom side of his desk, in reach in case of emergencies. Not that this was an emergency, of course.

"President ShinRa extends the service of the Turks, as protection, to you so long as you hold the office of SOLDIER's director."

As cold and calloused as that voice was, the words did not register immediately. Then it hit him. Lazard let his elbows rest on the desk, white gloved fingers lacing together. He gazed levelly at the man standing just inside the office. "And you are?"

"Tseng of the Turks."

Lazard blinked a few times, pushing his rectangular glasses a little further up onto the bridge of his nose. Tseng was a name he knew. That was the head-man of the Turks, in charge, assigned with the most important of missions only. One such mission, Lazard (and most of ShinRa) knew about. Tseng had to babysit the wayward Rufus ShinRa. That had to gnaw at a man's sense of pride after a while. "A pleasure." Lazard offered out a hand to shake, not surprised when Tseng remained exactly where he was.

That was fine, too. Lazard was not exactly comfortable around the man. He was too… formal and cold, exactly what he was trying to hide in the office.

"Do you have any other business here, Tseng?"

The look Lazard got made him not speak any further for the moment. It was a 'I would not have come here had that been all' sort of look, full of warning. There was no irritation, though. That pale face remained a mask, only the brown eyes showing a thing, and that was just a hint. Lazard was good at taking hints. How else would he have climbed the ranks within ShinRa so fast?

"There will be a welcoming party for you at the Goblin Bar on Loveless Avenue tonight at 9:30 p.m. sharp." It was like he was giving a report rather than an invitation. Tseng was obviously a man who meant business. Lazard knew the place he spoke of, and merely nodded. "Our research says you are a regular."

"What else do you Turks know about me?"

A smile, barely visible it was so small, tugged at the corners of Tseng's wide lips. "You really do not want to know." Giving a curt nod, Tseng swiveled on his heel, making quick, effective strides from the room.

Perhaps Lazard really didn't. Then again, curiosity was a hard thing to ignore.