The Shinra Files
One shot: Whimsical
She brought the best and the worst out of him in equal measure. Coaxing laughter out of a man who never really had laughed and a smile from the soulless were the least of her gifts.
She brought life to the dead, coaxing greenery from the ash choked earth.
That perhaps was the greatest of her gifts, revitalization. It was the fascination… no obsession of his superiors. To him, despite regenerations' supposed grandeur, her powers were more of an aggravation than a miracle. But then, he was allergic to half the blooms her hands coaxed form the earth. Her whimsical smile, and the smug note to her hum, roused his suspicions as to how "accidental" the selections of growth were. But he never commented, nor was he one to complain.
The arch of her back, the kin of her garb, was his to study form hiding. Only the occasional "snuff" of his stuffed nostrils getting the best of his training to betray his position,
But if he was one not to talk, not to complain, neither was she.
"You should have brought some tissues." She murmured tilting one delicate cream colored blooms so that it's leaves could best catch the sun's light.
He grunted, or rather coughed, as a reply.
"How was your day?"
Silence then, he wasn't en to banter with a target, even one under "protective surveillance" as this one was.
"That's good that you're almost done." She noted to his continued silence, drawing words from nothing, and a lesser wonder out of a girl filled with them was how she always chose the right words. "Any plans for tonight?" She asked the flower.
It wasn't the flower that shook its' head in reply, and though her back was to him she seemed to see the motions. Her humming ceased, a rarity that, and the only sound that could be heard within the bounds of the thick concrete walls was the rustle of her dress as she stirred. That and the softer, velvety rustle of lush plant being petted.
Stupid things,. Plans, between his nose and his skulls staunch pounding Tseng resolved, as he did with every visit, that the only sue for a plant was in a salad.
As if to accent his pain his target stroked one of the blooms –an innocent looking yellow thing with a series of freckle like spots that spawned pollen that could only be dubbed cruel and unusual punishment upon exposure- bending low enough so her nose could take a deep draw of the sadistic flora's scent. Still engrossed with her plant, savoring its' delicate blend of scent she smiled, one eye roguishly lingering on his hiding place.
He smiled, despite himself, it was a wide toothy grin that held not an ounce of restraint.
It was one of his bet smiles, or so it was said. The motion was undisciplined, impulsive thing that was laced with warmth and shockingly open and charming. And for all that it violated protocol and was the worst thing for him to do he smiled, and protocol be damned.
"Mother's working late tonight." The target informed the earth, idly patting down one rise, to best coax the wayward rising roots into the earth. Tseng leaned against the wall, his shade stretched against the wall, a black banner against the concrete's grey. His blatant show of present was something of a rebuke, and though she never turned she seemed to see and sigh for the seeing.
"How obvious do I have to be?" She huffed.
The shadow pulled back, his smile fade into a tranquil tell nothing placidity that agrivated his Continental counterparts
And Ancients as well, the Turk learned.
"Are you, or are you no doing anything tonight."
Her vehemence was such that he started, then he broke protocol of all stripe, professional and personal code fell away. A deadly mistake that, potentially lethal, but she made him do so for he must respond when she demanded.
"I have no plans, Ms. Gainsborough."
"Don't clal me that!"
"My apologies, Aerith."
"Tseng, you don't have another foot to put in your mouth." Aeris noted with a overture of acid to her tone.
"I suppose I could dig one out form somewhere." The Wutia noted blandly. "Or, for the sake of sanitation I could just stuff a hand in as well."
She laughed to that, and to that sound the artic gleam to his gaze warmed. With a stiff bow the Turk conceded defeat, the motion was so minimal that his blue suit barely wrinkled.
"Are you doing something for dinner, Tseng?"
"Eating," the Turk shrugged, his grin becoming a touch mischievous, "shortly followed by the less elegant process of digestion."
It was so easy to enchant her; she fell in love with the minimal, and his inclination towards understatement and candor had quite taken her fancy. Laughing at his curt and somewhat grotesque sally she again inspired a breach of discipline. Without recalling how he made the decision, only acting upon impulse, he strolled from the dark, loitering in hr sight at light's edge. A rare event that, and she met lapse for lapse.
She forsook her flowers.
Since the earliest days, at the beginnings of their charade, they'd adhered to the roles Gaia threw there way. He the silent stalker working upon Shirna's behalf, she the innocent soon to be yet never captured victim. Leaving her sport of Flora forgotten she considered him, her green eyes bright with a spark on inquisitive delight.
She loved him when he broke the rules, even as he loved her for living by none.
"Your offer never changes, does it." He teased.
"Does your answer?" She quipped, green eyes alight with pleasure. She didn't like talking to her flowers, of having to "flaunt" her capabilities to know what he was thinking. She liked to talk face to face, and it was rare that he indulged her in that pleasure.
Amused by he audacity in answering a question with a question –such was a mark between equals, further more it was a mark between two equals of formidable power- he chuckled, flashing her his best smile.
"Sometimes."
"And what's your answer this time." The Ancient smirked, confident that –as always- his reply would be in the negative.
The look of incredulous delight when he answered in the positive was exquisite. Something of shock of the layman hung about her -see the widening eyes, the gapping mouth for exhibit A and B- and something else entirely. With a happy laugh she ran to him and wound her arms around him. One arm obediently stayed wound, the other arm went up and it's delicate fingers were instantly adhered to his skull. Smiling wide she teased the black, ordered, threads that served as his hair.
Eyes wide in surprise, she was never this friendly, nor this touchy with him as a norm, he almost recoiled out of her embrace. Old instincts surged through him, hard instincts, impulses that would have caused her pain and broken bones had he indulged…
His knees shook, as want battled with ingrained need. He savored her warmth even as it confused him, for his soul was ever locked in an endless winter and her eternal spring forever clashed.
His knees shook a bit as she released him. He felt weak yet exhilarated, as if he'd just gained and lost something of vital importance.
"Yes?" She repeated his lukewarm agreement with a delighted little squak, her leaf green eyes aglow with joy.
"To dinner." He elaborated, best to make it clear form the very outset as to what he was agreeing to least she twist some other concessions out of him. Than, more to fill in the expectant silence than anything else he added. "Your choice, my treat."
"Very business like of you, profession-ish to add a few clauses." Her green eyes twinkled, twin mako stars of mirth.
"I keep evil company." The Turk countered, extending an arm. She was a humble creature, posing an innocent grace an boundless enthusiasm and she all but took his arm off in accepting. Fingers, delicate, long, not marred by calluses from gripping the hand hold of a gun settled over his fore arm.
It was a strange sensation.
"I noticed." Aeris teased.
Recalling a line from Aeris' favorite book, the Turk grinned, his black pit gaze all but supping from the life that shone form the girl's own.
"I noticed you noticing."
To that retort she stuck her tongue out, and he laughed at her insubordination instead of punishing her as he should.
