Title: Increased Productivity (1/1)
Author: Rose Flame
Character/s: Sephiroth, Zack.
Rating: G
Words: 2 500 (exactly! rock!)
Disclaimer: Property of Square-Enix, although I like to think the fandom owns Sephiroth the Not-Bugfuck-Yet.
Notes: I am mad, and devise signatures for characters. Yes.
- - -
Sephiroth couldn't see Zack. The folders stacked around the edges of his desk, the sheafs of paper, the forms to be signed, the reports to be read... all this obscured his view of the office he was, for the moment, being forced to share with his subordinate. Renovations, he was told - entirely unnecessary, in Sephiroth's opinion. A waste of company money, and time, and more importantly, patience. Because Sephiroth couldn't see Zachary Krueger. But Sephiroth didn't need to see the other man to hear the obnoxiously cheerful whistling soaring over the paper stacks.
"Zack, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times," Sephiroth had to raise his voice to be heard past the paper and the shrillness of the whistling; his was not a voice given naturally to carrying. Despite his irritation, there was only resignation in his tone. Long experience had taught Sephiroth that it was utterly useless to try to force Zack into anything.
There was the squeal of Zack's ancient office chair as he sat up (that was something Sephiroth would not mind Shinra fixing, the General thought with gritted teeth) and the slightly flatulent sound of an ill-laid piece of carpet being trod upon, and then his second's face appeared, wry and cheerful, over a stack of folders, crammed with forms that Sephiroth had yet to sign. A4 in foolscap folders, the General thought with something bordering on despair, and tussled briefly with the urge to scream.
"Pardon, sir?" Zack asked, completely unassuming, and Sephiroth regarded him as levelly as he could manage.
"If you do not stop whistling," Sephiroth enunciated clearly, "I will kill you."
Zack tilted his head to one side and grinned disarmingly. "You wouldn't do that, Seph."
"No," Sephiroth agreed, just as calmly. "But I am not above assigning you to patrol duties every time you arrange a date with Miss Gainsborough."
This, at least, prompted the desired result - an expression somewhere between that of a man in shock, and that of a kicked puppy. For approximately half a second. And then a sullen expression crept in, and Zack rested his chin upon his arms, which were crossed atop his chosen paper stack.
"You'd be a lot more fun if you got laid on occasion, Seph," he said, almost accusingly. Sephiroth didn't care what aspersions his subordinate cast upon his character, or sexual preferences - the whistling had stopped. He tapped his pen twice upon the corner of the report he was halfway through, and signed at the bottom when he was finished. He wrote a number, a set of initials, and a note to have the owner of those initials downgraded to less immediately harmful incendiary weapons, and sat that folder resolutely to his right.
This was repeated almost twice, with mechanical accuracy, in complete silence. And then, just as Sephiroth touched his pen to paper, Zack said, thoughtfully, "You know what your problem is, Seph?"
"I am listening to him," Sephiroth responded, although without rancour. Zack was not the source of his problems, and it was not the First Class' fault that he was not as pedantic as his General. Zack continued as though he had not heard, well used to his General's waspishness.
"Your signature's too long." He made a vague gesture toward Sephiroth's hand, and the General raised one eyebrow, even as he signed, and moved to pick up the next report. Which, as it turned out, was not a report, but a set of transfer forms.
"Hmmm," he said, consideringly. "You've approved Tieger?"
"And Strife," Zack reached down and dragged another folder free of its pile, making the rest of the column teeter dangerously. Sephiroth raised a hand to tug it straight again. "They're good kids. I know you've got your doubts about how well they'll do in action, but there's nothing wrong with either of them that practice can't improve."
"I'll trust you," Sephiroth shrugged, and signed in the appropriate places. Zack made a noise of annoyance, and leaned over to snatch the pen from his General's hand. When Sephiroth stared at him, unsure of whether to be annoyed or puzzled, Zack brandished it at him, as though trying to make an unspoken point.
"It takes you about five seconds just to sign, Seph," he said. "No wonder you're always here so late. I can do three in the time you take to do one."
"I am a good deal more thorough in my reading than you are, Krueger--" Sephiroth began coolly, and was cut of by a rude-sounding expulsion of air from between Zack's lips.
"Bullshit," he said, and then he was laughing again. "Know what I did in Gongaga? I read, 'cause there was nothin' else to do! And then the bastards stopped delivering books, and I thought, hell if this war's gonna stop me, and I signed up, and here I am. I'm a good reader."
Sephiroth stared blandly at Zack. "Krueger, you spent half your time in Gongaga dismantling what was left of the reactor, before it occurred to you that your skills might be better paid in the Shinra army. In fact, I believe last time I suggested you read a book, you merely added to the collection of unmentionables in the bottom drawer of your filing cabinet. You have terrible taste in whisky, by the way."
"Fuck you very much, I happen to like Goblin King," Zack said defensively. "And better the swimsuit edition that the curtain catalogue, you freak of nature. You know what, I take it back - your signature's perfect. It's just as girly as you are."
"I had a new apartment to decorate," Sephiroth sighed. "And the fact that my signature is plainly legible does not make it, or me, girly." It was not, precisely, a sore point, but it was something he wished that Zack would stop bringing up.
The First Class sagged backward, raising his hands to cover his eyes, as though they pained him. "Seph, it looks like it came out of a computer program. One of those stupid, useless fonts that ends in 'a'. You're not supposed to be able to read it!" He ran his hands backward through the dark spikes of his hair, and scrunched his fingers into the nape of his own neck as he stared, despairing, at his General. "If you can read it, you can forge it!"
Sephiroth smiled. "Try," he suggested silkily, and Zack's eyes narrowed. A few futile minutes were passed as Sephiroth located another pen to continue working with, and Zack attempted to copy Sephiroth's signature, his tongue wedged into the corner of his mouth with the force of his concentration. Finally, Zack shoved his piece of paper under Sephiroth's nose, reminding the General of nothing so much as a three year old, proudly presenting his parent with a painstaking effort in crayon. He examined it, and wrinkled his nose.
"You have crossed the 't' twice," he said evenly. "And your 'r' is wrong, and that is not at all how I form an 'h'. Your hand is too upright; mine is more slanting."
Zack sighed, exasperated. "Listen, I bet I can print something that looks just like it. The point was, it takes too damn long. I bet I can fill a page with signatures faster than you can."
Sephiroth put down his pen and leaned back, a frown creasing his forehead. "Why has this become your new obsession?" He queried, and Zack leaned forward and grabbed his General's nose. Or at least, an attempt was made. While Sephiroth was willing to allow his subordinate to snatch pens from his grasp and crane over his table like a vulture with a bad blow-drying job, actually touching him was where he drew the line. Zack grunted as the bones in his hand made smal grinding noises, and held out his other wrist instead. Sephiroth glanced at the watch upon it.
It was a cartoon character. One who had become infused with a Time materia, if Sephiroth recalled correctly. Wore a lot of red, dashed about very fast, and wore rather stupid ear muffs. He supposed Zack could like what he wanted, and his General need have no say in the matter - but it was still rather off-putting to have the thing thrust in his face like this. He stared at Zack, eyebrows raised, and the First Class turned a brickish colour.
"Look at the time, you wanker," he said, eloquent as always. "It's nearly eleven. And you're going to be in before seven tomorrow, because you're a smug bastard like that, and you always are. You never give yourself time for anything else. Why, sweet Shiva? Why? "
Sephiroth released Zack's hand, somewhat disturbed by the depth of anguish Zack seemed to be suffering over such a trivial thing. It was not as though it was any of the First Class' business what Sephiroth did with his time, and it certainly did not matter that Sephiroth threw himself into his work so enthusiastically.
But Zack was never bothered over trivial things. He had always been relaxed, laid-back. Sephiroth had never seen what he considered to be the full depths of the man's anger. It was Sephiroth who twitched over small things, though he told himself rationally that they should not bother him - those damned mismatched paper and folder sizes were an excellent example of this. Zack was one of those people who focused upon the big picture, the important things. And Sephiroth, though he was trying very hard not to examine this, knew that his second had a point.
It was not enthusiasm, but apathy, resignation, that led him so early to his office each day, that left him here so late at night. So late that more than once, he had missed the last train, and been forced to navigate the innards of the tower to return to his apartment. He had not even minded very much.
It was not as though he had anything better to do with his time.
"I have work to do," he said without inflection, and reached again for his pen. "But you should head home. It's late."
Zack sighed, and smiled, and tilted his head to the side to watch his General, tiredly. "Whatever. I'm not leaving before you do."
He went back to scribbling on his piece of paper, the frantic scratching of the other nib sounding ill against the patient rasping of his own. It was almost as distracting as the whistling. Fifteen minutes later, Sephiroth's jaw was clenched, and he was considering sending Zack for coffee. Although he could not stand the stuff, and was unaffected by it except for a minor trembling in his finer motor functions for twenty minutes afterward, it would get the other man out of his hair for a few blissful minutes.
On the other hand, it would involve dealing with a caffeinated Zachary Krueger, which was not something that Sephiroth would willingly submit himself to ever, ever again.
Zack finally made a small noise of satisfaction, and brandished his piece of paper, covered, now, with hundreds of illegible scribbles. "This one," he suggested happily, indicating a scribble he had circled. Sephiroth squinted.
"'Sphth'?" he asked, uncertain. Zack grinned.
"I think that was almost worth it just to have the satisfaction of knowing you'd pronounce it like that," he said. "But no - 'Sephiroth'. It's your new signature. Cuts down your signing time to half. Watch."
He'd strode around behind Sephiroth and leaned awkwardly between the stack of already signed paper-work, and Sephiroth's shoulder. The arm-rest of the executive chair bumped against Zack's thigh; Sephiroth removed his hand from it, delicately, with an expression of mild disdain. Zack made a quick movement with the pen against the paper, and moved back again. "See?"
Sephiroth stared. "You just signed where my signature was meant to go."
Zack laid a hand on his shoulder; Sephiroth tolerated the contact with narrowed eyes. "That was the point, Seph. You do it like this."
He signed again on the next report, not even reading it first. Sephiroth watched in a sort of horrified fascination as Zack's rendition of his name was carefully, liltingly, inscribed above the dotted line. Almost without meaning to, he took note of the movements.
"There. You try," Zack suggested, and offered the pen to him. Sephiroth's expression remained blank.
"This ranks rather highly upon the list of your various stupidities, Krueger."
But he took the pen, and he copied the movement, effortlessly mimicking the rougher man's graceless hand. Zack grinned broadly and the pressure on Sephiroth's shoulder grew momentarily more firm.
"There, ya see? Was that so hard? Now try it again, and see how much time you save on the next ten forms."
Deciding that he was merely humouring a dead man's final request, Sephiroth did so. And found, to his annoyance, that his second was correct. His new signature, though it appeared to be little more than an ink spasm on the page, was far faster. More efficient, one might say.
Sephiroth damned his constant yearning for efficiency in this department, and made a grudging mental note to do something nice for the First Class when the opportunity presented itself. Perhaps a subscription to one of those filthy magazines of his. Zack would appreciate it, and Sephiroth would appreciate seeing his second forcefully walloped by a sixteen year old amateur florist when Miss Gainsborough discovered the subscription. The proverbial gift that gives twice.
"Very well, Zack. I shall have this rendered my official signature." He acquiesced calmly, setting the cap back on his pen with a soft 'click'.
"Yes!" Zack exclaimed, as though this was a major victory, and even threw his hands in the air. "All right! Awesome. So, now we know you'll be so much faster tomorrow, can we go home now? I hate the last train."
"Of course," Sephiroth acceded generously, and smirked at his subordinate. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, and you can get started on the rest of these reports."
Zack grinned. Paused. Registered what his General had said. Opened his mouth to retort in dismay. Sephiroth's eyes slitted in amusement at the expression on his second's face, and slid his coat on over his shoulders with a practised movement and the soft creak of supple leather.
"If you're going to be able to forge my signature, Zachary," he asserted in a light tone, "Then it will at least be going to good use before I start receiving your purchases upon my credit card."
Zack said, "You are a bastard, and I'm going to steal your wallet and buy that condo in Costa del Sol, and shares in Gold Saucer."
Sephiroth sniffed, and flicked the light in the office. "As long as you don't give my card to Miss Gainsborough," he commented as he locked the door, "I don't think I could care less."
He'd prefer the money was productive, after all.
- - -
A/N: We all know Aeris would burn through the General's accumulated funds like-a that. ;D