offbeat
She waits patiently inside the gaudy mansion basement. It's colder than Shiva's kiss. Tifa's on high alert pacing in these damn high heels. One shade of mauve lipstick too coy for her liking. She feels so exposed in this slinky violet dress. Maybe she should have worn the leopard one?
He's here.
The thud of the elaborate iron doors startles her from going round circles in her head. She perks up as Corneo's second in command approaches her. The one everyone told her to go see. Aloof but reliable.
"Are you ok?" His voice is softer than when they spoke over the phone.
He's suave with his Wall Market street fashion. Silver hair, leather trims and put together. Leslie is striking. Even a little dangerous. Tough as nails. There's an edge about him, a darkness she's drawn to.
"I'm fff..fine." Tifa's lips chatter together. She should have worn the exotic ensemble, it had long sleeves.
His hand caresses her bare shoulder. Fingertips light as gossamer but gritty with the air of the slums. Illicit and thrilling, it's an adrenaline rush. Maybe it's the cold, but she aches for more.
"You're freezing." Leslie takes off his leather jacket wrapping it around her shoulders. "You're sure you want to do this?"
Tifa nods. She smells hints of mint, citrus blossom and Wutaian pepper spices loitered from his cologne. He lingers in front of her holding the jacket flaps together. His warm gold eyes contrast with a stone cold gaze. She's hooked. Captivated by his enigmatic charm and rebellious essence, Tifa is intoxicated with curiosity.
"Well…don't hesitate to ask for my help. I'll be here if you need me."
She needs him in other ways. Tifa can picture it in her head, running away from the slums. They could head topside or out east to the sea. Idle days of gratification. Him on top of her. A playground of skin and heat…
"You're not like the other guys."
Leslie doesn't answer her, but Tifa is confident in her declaration. Grey. There's no black and white as to who's good or bad. Leslie's got some baggage and so does she. He's lost in his own thoughts. Tifa wants to get lost in the world inside him. Wandering stars roaming free.
They are centimeters from each other. Leslie's still gripping the jacket like his life depends on it. His face softens, lips twisting in a crook. Somewhere along the way he forgot how to smile.
Leslie's thumb brushes her lower lip. He traces the outlines of her face stopping at the edge of her chin.
"No. I'm not." The words dance over her breath.
-xx-