i. white graveyard
The fine white wool of his suit is blinding even in the low ambient light. Slick hair so pale it readily takes on the blue hue of the light matching the color of his eyes. He stands in front of her with his head held high, the regal air of a king, as the fingers on his left hand begin to tap in an impatient rhythm next to his untouched glass of gin.
They all warned her, every single one of them.
"He's very persuasive," she recalls Reeve Tuesti cautioning her when she initially agreed to the proposition. "Be careful, he gets what he wants no matter what."
And damn them all for being right.
Truth is she didn't mind working there. While she didn't care much for the monochrome bar with the stylish cream-white furniture atop dark wood floors, all dripping with a certain opulence that reeked of him, the job was good. Too good. Rufus Shinra paid her well to bar tend a few evenings in the Shinra headquarter executive lounge.
Dare she say he was actually very pleasant to serve drinks to, even charming.
"Well?" he asks again as he kisses the hollow where her neck and collarbone join.
Charming enough to get her to agree to something she never would imagine doing in a million years, but here she is digging her own grave.
"Just once," Tifa whispers as her jaw locks; her hand gripping his as she follows him into the back room.
-xx-
Prompt Notes: Rufus, Tifa, graveyard, "Just Once"