Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy 7 nor any of it's characters.
I feel his presence before he enters the small medical room. It precedes him like a dark, awe inspiring cloud. By the time he opens the door and steps inside, I already have the correct file and the correct page.
Sephiroth.
Yes, that is what it says. I am not a nervous person, nor am I one to show much emotion. But this man evokes something similar to fear within me. Perhaps it is due to his phenomenal popularity among the public or because of the truly frightening stories that surround him.
He walks in with his long black cape swishing behind him and his silver hair falling just past his knees. His hands are bunched into fists and his shoulders are tense. His scent fills the room. Musky antiperspirant mixed with the signature smell of his top-of-the line shampoo. He, like Genesis, glares around the room, his icy gaze finally resting on me. I feel myself shrinking under his gaze. I feel insignificant, like a specimen on a lab dish. As if I was nothing but an object.
"Where is Hojo?" he asks abruptly. He is not polite, he does not dither.
"The professor is out on business. I will be administering your mako shot today." I reply. My voice is small and slightly wavering. "Please, take a seat on the bed."
He does not move immediately, but continues to stare at me as if trying to gauge if I am any threat. I am not. He could easily overpower me if he needed to. He could walk away if he wanted and I wouldn't be able to do a thing. Of course, if he did that, I would get in trouble for not administering his mako shot.
He is the coldest person I have ever met. If Genesis was fire. He would be ice. The coldest of ices.
He finally walks over to the bed and seats himself. He has a long loping stride. He looks around before giving me his attention.
I clear my throat. ""Have you experienced any blood loss –?"
"No, no and no."
I am taken aback by his brusqueness. It borders on rudeness. But I cannot say anything to him. I am just a runner for the science department, and he is the famous Shin-Ra General. I am inferior.
"Sir, I will need to take a blood sample..."
He shoves his hand at me. He has already ripped the glove off.
"Hurry up." He growls. I take his hand. To my surprise, it is sweaty and slightly shaking. Only then do I notice his other hand. It is clenching the side of the bed; the nails digging into the thin mattress.
Sephiroth is afraid. The great General Sephiroth is afraid. But why?
I look up at him. He is frowning at me. His face is very close. He has thin lips and very fair skin. Just a hint of freckles dance across his nose. But it is his eyes that dominate his face. Brilliant, glowing green eyes. They are beautiful. Darker streaks of green shoot through the light green of his irises. And his eyelashes that shadow them are thick and black. Black. The man has silver hair, but his eyelashes are black. It makes me curious. But I do not mention it.
"Hurry up!" He growls louder this time. I jump back. I had become mesmerised by his eyes. Now I quickly jab his finger. It goes in deeper than I mean it to. He hisses and glares at me. It makes me feel worse. I dab his bleeding finger onto the Reader's pad and he snatches his hand back. Now my hands are shaking. I turn away from him to hide them.
I feel like the Reader is taking forever to find the blood-mako concentration. Sephiroth feels it too.
"Can't you make that thing go faster?" He snaps.
"Sorry, sir." Is all I can reply.
He sighs impatiently. Now he is tapping his foot against the metal leg of the bed. It makes a low sound.
Finally, the Reader beeps. I release a breath I had not known I was holding. I hear Sephiroth do the same.
78%
I calculate the dosage of mako he needs. It is an average dose.
Like Genesis, Sephiroth wears a coat. But his is black.
"Please take your coat off sir." I ask, loading the syringe.
He looks disgusted that I should ask him that now. I can tell how he feels. He hates me for making this longer for him. He wants to be out of here as soon as he can. To him I am dallying and going at a slow pace.
He fumbles with the straps on his coat then pulls it off. He does not wear a jumper underneath so his chest is exposed. His skin is like porcelain. It is pale and flawless. Not a scratch. Nothing to mar the surface. Under his skin are his muscles. Covering every inch of him. They give his figure very a strict shape: perfect definition.
I come towards him with the syringe. His eyes widen ever so slightly and his jaw is set. I smile apologetically and brush his arm with antiseptic. Then I insert the needle.
Sephiroth turns away, looking pointedly at the very same chair Genesis had glared at not too long ago.
"Is it done?" He hisses.
"Almost."
It is finished. I pull the needle out. "All done. Thank you for your patience." I say.
He doesn't even hear me. He is already out of the door.
He has also left his coat behind.
I sigh. Administering mako shots is unpleasant work.