Was going through old docs and found this along with the sudden urge to complete it, so here's the first chap! Hope y'all enjoy!

Except the boss in question was a certain Vincent Valentine, who barely flinched under Yuffie's fury. In fact, he had expected it.

"You're the new Director of Administrative Research?" she demanded. It had been the first and only question that had sprung to mind, and she wanted it answered.

"Yes... Reeve thought that it would be fitting."

"So Reeve let you have a full-time executive position here?" Yuffie asked. "And you said yes?"

"It would seem so."

"So... you're going to be working with me," Yuffie confirmed, still in utter disbelief.

Vincent didn't honour that with a response.

"And you're going to be doing the exact same stuff the Turks used to do?"

"Without the darker side."

"So no covert assassinations of any kind? No dropping plates?"

"There are no plates to drop."

Yuffie nodded. "Alright, okay... Good..."

"Is that all?"

She fell back into the plush chair placed neatly across from him, her lithe limbs somehow managing to fill the entire chair despite her small frame. "Not really," she admitted, crossing her long legs as she propped her chin on her hand. "Reeve said I should be reporting here for all my missions now because he can't handle the awesomeness that is the White Rose of Wutai! After all, he can't boss me around! You might be able to though... but that's only because you've got a creepy death glare and he's only got a lame stern look that reminds me of Godo whenever I bring a new cat home."

"... Well then, I guess he already told you that there's a mission that needs to be handled straightaway, with the utmost of care?"

She perked up in interest. "There's a mission?"

"Yes, he wanted you to investigate a new ice cream parlour about a block from here. I was to accompany you," Vincent told her, looking over the page that had come through the fax machine only minutes ago. "Apparently the cookie dough ice cream is to die for."

"Ice cream parlour?"

"It seems so."

"We're going to check out an ice cream parlour?"

"That's what I said."

Yuffie jumped out of the chair and grinned widely. "Well then, let's go! I bet that flavour is poisoned or something... like, with a slow-release formula that's been killing people all over Junon ever since that place opened up!" She nodded to herself, a hand on her chin as she started pacing back and forth across Vincent's new office. "It's probably a conspiracy funded by some sort of underground scientist with access to a massive ice cream factory and an obsession with making people choke on extra-large chunks of cookie dough or bubblegum hidden in their delicious ice cream! No one would know the difference, except me! The Great Ninja Yuffie! You're not fooling me, buster!"

During this speech, Vincent had effortlessly tuned out. Instead, he was reading a 'good luck' email from Tifa. According to letters Tifa had received over the past couple of weeks, Yuffie had become bored and had resorted to investigating random employees of the WRO headquarters, including an unsuspecting secretary and a janitor. In other words, the email was a friendly warning about what he might be subjected to while working with Yuffie.

Yuffie grabbed Vincent's arm and pulled him out of the office. "Let's go get a sample and send it to the labs! They'll probably be able to detect the poison with one of their trippy experiments or something."

"But, Yuffie -"

"There's no time to waste! We need to save ice cream eaters before they start collapsing on the streets!"

The ice cream parlour, The Chocobo Creamery, looked innocent enough. Pastel colours of mint green, bubblegum pink, and sky blue decorated the walls and snaked around the pillars on either side of the serving counter. White circular tables dotted the inside, and Yuffie quickly took a seat at one. She had discussed her plan of action with Vincent on the walk down the street, and it involved him memorizing her order. It was chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream (she'd heard rumours of that flavour causing widespread disease), two scoops with chocolate sauce on the first one and rainbow sprinkles on the second one, all in a bowl. His other job was to check out the kitchens while he was at the counter waiting for the order to be filled. Yuffie, on the other hand, was to sit and relax and find all the surveillance cameras and make sure no one was choking on their could-be-poisoned ice cream.

"See anything?" Yuffie asked over their concealed headsets.

Vincent gave no answer, instead feeling rather ridiculous as he gazed around the kitchens with unfocused eyes. The meeting he had with Reeve only hours earlier notified him of the "play-date" he had with Yuffie, and he wasn't too happy about it.

"It's only for a week, Vincent," Reeve had told him. "And she likes you better than most of the others I considered."

"It's a babysitting job, Reeve," Vincent corrected him. "I'm not known for being good with kids."

"She's not a kid."

"She might as well be."

"It's a week," Reeve repeated. "Maybe a little longer depending, and she's bound to cause chaos if someone isn't with her. Boredom is her most dangerous asset."

Vincent figured it was either his loyalty to Reeve or his bad luck that always got him stuck with Yuffie for long periods of time. He knew that he'd most likely be around to placate her longer than a week, and a month wasn't exactly out of the question either. Then again, it could just be her and her penchant for trouble-making. Tifa was too busy in Edge, and Cloud was always on deliveries. Barrett and Cid were what Yuffie called "out in the boring country looking for greasy black stuff." Vincent sighed. Everyone actually capable of handling her bullet-train brain was preoccupied. Vincent, as always, was the one and only choice. Lovely.

The cashier handed the ice cream to him and he quickly paid and made his way to their table.

"So?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" she asked, clearly baffled by his lack of discoveries. "But...!"

"There was nothing, Yuffie," he assured her. "So you can eat it in peace. Go ahead." Vincent nudged the bowl toward her with his metal claw, watching as her expression changed from confusion to pure shock.

"You want me to eat that?" she asked, taken aback by his bluntness.

"Yes," he affirmed. Then, as an afterthought, "It was expensive and you 'forgot your wallet.'"

Their hushed conversation had, by then, garnered much attention from other customers around them. Vincent sighed as Yuffie huffed in indignation.

"Stop acting like a child, and eat your ice cream."

Yuffie had fully intended to protest his order, but it had been too ridiculous. Instead, she stared at him, fully perplexed by what he said. "You are forcing me to eat ice cream? Pffft."

"Maybe." Vincent turned to looked out of the window, and when he turned back he found a spoon full of ice cream waving in front of his face. "What is this?"

"Ice cream! Duh."

"... Why are you -"

"I need to make sure it isn't poisoned! You're immortal, right?"

"Yuffie, just eat it."

"But you paid for it! I'd feel bad if you didn't get any!"

Vincent inwardly groaned at her logic and took the spoon from her.

"Do you taste poison?"

"No."

"Okay!" Yuffie happily dug into the bowl, shoveling spoons down her throat like she hadn't eaten in years.

Another sigh came from Vincent. He would just have to wait until she was done her ridiculously large order.

Yuffie had decided that taste-testing every single flavour was necessary, and another forty dollars was therefore emptied from Vincent's WRO account. However, Yuffie wasn't the only one to reap the spoils of Vincent's, or rather, the company's wallet. He'd gotten a diligently measured spoonful of each flavour. He figured Reeve should know how much he was spending on her in a single day. Sometimes, keeping tabs on employees accounts was a useful thing when it was used the other way around.

He sat on his desk chair, thinking that it needed to be less swivel-y, and stared at his printer. A few faxes had been sent his way. Picking up the first one, he noticed the time. Around two, when he first left with Yuffie. The next one was at three thirty-seven. The last one was just over an hour ago at four fifty-three. All of them were sent by Reeve. Two of them were suggestions for where he and Yuffie should adventure next. The last one was labelled "Theme Park."

If Vincent was that type of person, he would have asked something along the lines of "What the hell?" However, he was not that type of a person. That didn't mean he wasn't confused with the rest of the message, though. Did Reeve really expect him to accompany Yuffie on a false lead to the Gold Saucer? He sighed, deciding to go through the pile tomorrow.

Instead, he turned on his computer. It immediately beeped at him, notifying him of an email. It was from Reeve.

Vincent,

I'd like to set up a meeting with you tomorrow so that we can discuss how we'll be handling Yuffie's destructive boredom-breakers. I've sent you a few suggestions over the past couple of hours, and I hope you follow through with some of them. I know it's asking a lot, but it's important for the company to be held in high regard. There have been some not-so-friendly rumours going around the office and I'm hoping they don't circulate farther than that.

Anyway, if things get hard to handle on your part (because, realistically, even you have your breaking point), I bought two season passes to the Golden Saucer. I know she likes going there. The seizure-inducing bright lights seem to have a good effect on her, if you remember anything from our adventures there. I know her motion-sickness renders her incapable of going on most of the rides, but I'm sure she'll find some fun in the arcade or the chocobo-races. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm sure you could use a break too.

Hope to see you tomorrow,

Thanks,

Reeve Tuesti

Vincent read through the email a couple more times, focusing on the second paragraph. With each run through the paragraph, it was easier to believe that yes, he really was expected to take her to the Golden Saucer. Putting a hand to his head to soothe the oncoming headache from merely thinking about that place, he sighed again.

Well, that was it. He was going home and he was not going to think about the next few weeks.