Disclaimer: All characters belong to ME. What are you gonna do now, Squeenix? Huh? WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW?
Sub-disclaimer: Please don't sue me. All I have is the toaster I got for Christmas. It makes the egg, too, if that's any consolation. But, please don't take it. I love it too much.
Summary: More sarcastic, verbose crap. I really need a life other than thinking about how hard the lives are of these gay squeenix characters. Jeez. I suppose we all can sympathize. Enjoy. R/R plzkthx.
Sometimes having hyper-active senses really gets old; especially when you are slightly hung over and you can smell, in great detail, the unique breakfast concoction that was microwaved nearly two hours ago wafting in the hallways. It was enough to make his stomach roll. Sephiroth strode quickly past the break room down to the elevator. As soon as the metal doors shut, he took a quick breath of the cool air streaming down from the vents. He was not so much ill-affected as he was tired and irritable.
The day seemed to stretch on and on, from training his subordinates to stacks of paperwork -- and now, a lovely trip to Professor Hojo's lab, for routine checkups and blood testing. Definitely not the day for it, but... meh.
"You've been drinking."
"I've had a few, last night."
"Just because I said it was alright to drink doesn't mean you should make a habit of it."
"Of course not." He didn't, really. Lately, his insomnia had grown worse, and with it, a morose attitude to Hojo's menial demands. Liquor helped, a bit. It took so much to affect him, anyway. His leather coat rustled against the exam table as he shifted his weight. Hojo glared and turned away, tending to his business. Sephiroth gave a slow, lazy smirk.
"It throws the tests off, you know."
"Yes."
Hojo fiddled, glass clinking. He fussed with the computer until it spit out a printout. He turned back, pacing forward. His brow quirked.
"Do I have to submit a report to the President about this?"
"No."
"You're lacking in potassium."
"Really?" Sephiroth sounded very sincere in his inquiry.
"Eat a banana. Or some peanut butter."
"Oh-kay."
"..you're not only messing this up for me, you know. You're putting the entire funding of the science department at risk, if we can't get accurate measurements. I did not raise you to be a failure."
"Planet forbid," Sephiroth replied. "Are you finished?"
Hojo sneered a bit, slighted. "Report back in four days, and don't be fucked up."
"Mm-hm." Sephiroth left coldly with Hojo glowering down his back.
Another lovely meeting with the professor, drawn to a close. The elevator could not arrive fast enough.
When the doors parted, he let another person step out, a man with long, blonde hair, donned in a lab coat. The two glanced at each other as Sephiroth stepped past.
"Just beginning your shift?"
"No," Koarin responded hesitantly, "just returning from break... you look tired. Are you okay?"
Sephiroth nodded, hitting the elevator button. "Fine. ...working late again?"
"More than likely." Koarin fiddled with his grip on his briefcase, held in front of him as always -- some politeness gesture he learned in Wutai. "Have a good evening, then."
"You, as well." The doors shut. Sephiroth closed his eyes and shook his head, yearning for his own bed and a power-nap. He actually felt as if he may be able to sleep tonight; a rarity.
Genesis' team was turning out to be an elite squad after all. The training session wrapped up without a hitch. After sifting out the weak ones, his unit was becoming a force to be reckoned with, a direct testament to their commander's skills. Genesis would have had a better front-line, had not all legible, strong recruits been immediately recruited to Sephiroth's squad. Still, he did what he could, and was semi-proud of the results.
They could be better, but Genesis had his own life to live; if they were to be strong, they would pursue strength on their own, as well as in training; those who didn't would not last through the next training session. He would not become obsessed with work as his only outlet in life, like Sephiroth was.
What a prude. What a boring, obsessive, tightly-wound prude, whom everyone found so unique and magnificent. Genesis' only wish was to take a razorblade to his tapestry and skew every tightly-woven, intricately drawn thread and slice them apart into a tattered, lovely mess -- a sea of frayed, drab string -- because he could see the colours for gray, where no one else seemed to. What passive, groveling idiots.
Okay, he had other wishes, but none so prominent.
Hm, Genesis thought to himself as he wandered back through the hallways to punch his timeclock. The day was over. He was eager for release from the work day. He sought to enjoy quiet time in his room, reflecting and reading. His needs were simple, but many. He didn't feel ashamed to ignore his phone calls and indulge himself solely in his books.
Unfortunately, nothing could be so simple.
Lazard strode up to him in the break room, so close to the time clock. Damn him.
"Sir," Genesis greeted him contractually.
"Genesis," Lazard nodded, equally formal. "I noticed you've been doing well with your squad." He leaned forward to stick some macaroni concoction in the microwave. It smelled uniquely similar to the breakfast nonsense that haunted the hallways, hours after the fact. So, he was the culprit.
"I try," Genesis replied dully. The smell still daunted his unbridled senses, masked only by the man's frivolous use of body spray. Phew.
"I'm thinking about giving you more relevant , deserving duties."
Big, flashing exclamation points hovered over his head, warning of danger. Genesis was glad Lazard was, for once, not wearing his glasses, lest he see them.
"Really." Genesis sounded very sincere in his inquiry.
"Hm. I have some things in mind. Meet me in my office around eleven tomorrow. We'll speak further."
"I look forward to it." Genesis spewed garbage out of his mouth and did backflips, also. In reality, he clocked out, nodded to his superior and walked as speedily as one can walk without running to the nearest exit. Good grief. His heels may as well have been on fire.
His car was the most comfortable haven he'd ever found, as the engine turned and some putrid death metal kicked on the radio. Home sweet home.
It delivered him quickly with style to his apartment building, which he quickly ascended the stairs of and fumbled for his keys in front of his door.
His couch was the most comfortable haven he'd ever found. He propped his feet up and reached to the coffee table for his current book, flipping the pages open by memory.
He got about three paragraphs in until his phone rang. Angeal's name flashed across the faceplate. Ignore.
The depth of his book captured his attention; the main character was ranting about his honor in conflict with his situation. Then, the phone rang a second time. He reached for it, glancing cynically at the name, hand on the 'kill' button.
He flipped the phone open instead.
"Hello?"
"My computer seems to have developed a mind of its own. Do you mind offering your sage advice?"
Genesis smirked. "What kind of sick pornography have you been looking up?"
"Nothing too sick, and I'm fairly sure it's your fault. The source seems to have been-"
"Stop your lies." Genesis yawned, eyeing the book with some regret. He folded it and laid it on the glass surface of his table. "Don't touch it. I'll be over in a bit."
"Fine."
"I reiterate: Do not touch it. You can't fix it yourself."
"No, but I can make it far more difficult for you in the long run, which is equally satisfying."
" ... "
"I'll put some coffee on."
"Couldn't sleep either...?"
The phone clicked. Genesis rolled his eyes. Stale, boring loser. He'd show him a thing or two.
Genesis lay haplessly on the couch for another two minutes before fighting his way up, and to Sephiroth's apartment.