Chapter 27: Commiseration
Sephiroth spent the rest of the workday attempting to catch up on his regular duties after wasting the morning babysitting Angeal. To be honest, he didn't actually finish his daily tasks. He just set aside the most boring paperwork for the next day, and decided to go home on time for a change in a fit of defiance against all the good, responsible habits ingrained in him over the years. It wouldn't kill anyone if he let some bureaucratic busywork wait until the next morning.
Right. That sounded like something Genesis would say.
But just because Genesis would blow off work didn't mean it wasn't a good idea sometimes, as long as he didn't make it a habit or indulge too often. With this small but satisfying rebellion in mind, Sephiroth went home anyway, where he changed into his favorite sweats and all but inhaled a meal of leftovers from the previous night's absolutely delicious takeout.
He needed to eat "Mideel Islands comfort food" more often. Even if it wasn't really comfort food by any reasonable definition of the term.
He was partway through loading the day's dishes into the dishwasher when he heard his front door open and close. He wiped off his hands and peered over the kitchen island into the living room to check on his trespasser. He wasn't particularly concerned. There were only a few people who had access to his home and might dare to show up at eight-thirty at night, such as annoying Turks. They would either behave as civilized human beings and knock first, like Veld, or slink around trying to avoid his notice. No Turk would just loudly barge in at night knowing that it might get them stabbed or beaten.
Only Turks and a few select members of the Science Department like Hojo had a master override. Neither Hojo nor any of his bootlicking lackeys had ever used it. Sephiroth didn't doubt, though, that other senior company personnel could get ahold of it if they really wanted it.
Aside from the usual and unwelcome suspects with overrides, Genesis and Angeal possessed his personal entry authorization and the nerve to ignore social conventions with him. They generally didn't, but Genesis had demonstrated the previous night that he, at least, lacked any qualms about intruding on friends without an invitation if he felt it necessary.
Anyone else breaking in would be trifling to evict or eliminate.
He listened closely as he moved into the living area, recognizing the cadence and depth of the soft breaths. Angeal. Peculiar. He usually didn't overlook social niceties like knocking or ringing the doorbell, and he never just barged into someone else's home without permission.
Angeal was leaning his back against the door, clutching the handles of a large canvas tote bag and looking...well, not panicked or angry, but definitely out of sorts. Rattled might be the best description.
"You might've knocked first," Sephiroth said mildly as he walked over.
Angeal ducked his head and dropped the heavy-looking bag on the floor. It hit with an audible thump and some clanking of its contents. "Sorry. You're right; I should have. I'm just...I dunno, I'm sorry. It's been a long day."
"Ah. The image consultation, I assume."
"It was more than just a simple consultation. As soon as the holoimaging studio released me, the PR boss—Hana? Hinata? Something, I didn't catch it. Anyway, she grabbed me to go over tomorrow's schedule."
"Holoimaging already? They are working fast," Sephiroth said, "but I suppose that is to be expected given the particulars of their current assignment. And their senior manager is Hinata Sato."
"Yeah, that name sounds right. I only just escaped from her about half an hour ago, and then Veld caught me. He claimed we just 'bumped into each other,'" Angeal made finger quotes, "but I'm pretty sure he was deliberately lying in wait at the elevators. Another of those 'unofficial meetings.'" He gave Sephiroth a lopsided grin and shrugged. "I'm afraid after that last encounter I decided to hide out here rather than at my place. No one will look for me here."
That didn't seem like a very realistic assumption to Sephiroth. "Angeal," he said patiently, "this is one of the very first places anyone would look for you during off hours."
"Nope, you and Genesis are always at my apartment when we get together. They'll go there first, then to the gym and training rooms second." He ticked the options off on his fingers. "Probably the SOLDIER common areas third. Maybe a few of my favorite restaurants or offsite hangouts after that. Genesis's place as a last resort. They'll only work up the nerve to come here and annoy you after they've exhausted all the safe alternatives. Not that Genesis is really a safe alternative, but they might consider it safer than here." He cocked his head and gave Sephiroth another lopsided, half-embarrassed grin.
Angeal hadn't specified who the "they" were that he was hiding from, but Sephiroth could guess. He'd had experience with Turks and the PR department, too. Sephiroth acknowledged that most people might have to battle intimidation to come to his home looking for a fugitive from overzealous PR specialists—and he liked it that way. In fact, he encouraged as much terror as he could from Shinra's various minions. It gave him peace of mind knowing they wouldn't hassle him at home about anything unless it was important.
Angeal added, "I think I might move in here."
Sephiroth's lips twitched. "You're too paranoid."
"Yeah, well, after the day I've had...I just need a break and some quiet for a while."
"Do you have your PHS with you?" Sephiroth asked pointedly.
Angeal tilted his head and gave him a confused look.
"You know your phone's locator is always on. The Turks can track you through it whenever they want, and they'll tell your PR consultants. Assuming anyone really wants to drag you back to the studio at this hour, and I'm certain they don't. I'm sure they're tired and frustrated, too." Angeal probably hadn't behaved like a PR dream client, he thought, amused. Equally, he was sure Angeal hadn't been deliberately rude or uncooperative—just clueless, awkward, and maybe a little short-tempered at times. He'd probably disliked and questioned everything they'd asked of him and driven them all so far up the wall they'd crashed straight through the ceiling to the next floor.
Angeal took his phone out of his pocket and stared hard at it.
"Don't break it," said Sephiroth. Angeal clearly wasn't thinking things through. Rattled, for sure.
The PR department could do that to a man, Sephiroth admitted privately. Especially an inexperienced one.
"Yeah, right, okay." Angeal put the phone away.
"Sit down. Do you need a drink? Something stronger than water?" Sephiroth asked, teasing him a bit. "You're going to be PR's victim for at least two weeks. This was only the first day. You'd better toughen up, SOLDIER."
Angeal flung himself onto the sofa and groaned.
Sephiroth sat down next to his friend. "So, what did Veld wa—wait, what's wrong with your face?" Now that he got a better look, he could see that something wasn't quite right. Sephiroth inspected Angeal carefully. His normally chiseled features seemed...softer? Like the rough edges had been smoothed off. He still looked like himself, but his color was higher and he appeared somehow younger and less serious. His eyes and eyebrows were different, his hairline had changed in a way Sephiroth couldn't identify, and his hair looked fluffier, the color somewhat deeper yet also catching the light in a way that made it seem to...glitter. It was fascinating. He really wanted to touch it.
He restrained himself only because he didn't want to get punched in the nose.
Angeal groaned again, scratched his forehead, then examined the skin-toned gunk caught under his fingernails. His lip curled. "It's makeup, Odin help me, and I had to sit through three different applications and I don't know how many touchups. The initial interview only lasted about an hour after you and Genesis left. From then on, it was hair and makeup, then pictures, then remove the old makeup and put on new makeup, then more pictures, then even more makeup and different hair, then more pictures, and then—"
"Believe me, I understand, I do," Sephiroth interrupted the rant, having been through the process himself many times. He leaned in, peering closer for a good look at Angeal's face—too close apparently, because Angeal pulled back sharply.
"It's just makeup, Sephiroth, not battle damage."
"You're acting like it's battle damage." He almost lifted a single brow, but got it under control and kept it in neutral. "I see what's different about your eyes." Sephiroth had become quite familiar with eye makeup over the years. Angeal's eyes were accentuated with eyeliner, mascara, and an artful shadow palette, so well blended that Sephiroth couldn't determine how many different shades had been used. It was a lot more makeup than even he usually got. He said with restraint, "My sympathies. I always hate it when they do my eyes up with a lot of makeup. It's uncomfortable. They claim it makes them look bigger and more noticeable." He let out an indignant huff at that absurdity.
"Did they ever put drops in your eyes to make them shinier? They did that to me." Angeal leaned back against the couch and glowered at the ceiling. "The mako glow is 'too subtle' for them. They wanted it to 'pop.'" He made air quotes with his fingers as he mimicked the makeup artists' opinions.
Sephiroth shook his head in exasperation, wondering if he'd also suffer that indignity the next time Shinra ordered him to do a promo shoot. "No, that's a new one." Slyly, he added, "But your eyes are quite dewy and glowing."
"Oh, shut up."
"Your eyebrows are different, too." They didn't seem as closely set. "And your hairline is..." Softer, gentler, but Sephiroth had the presence of mind to stop talking, even though the changes did make Angeal's face seem more open and approachable. Angeal probably didn't see things that way, though. "Did they shave off some of your widow's peak?" he asked instead. At least they'd left most of it, only removing the sharp, bottom point. Or so it appeared.
Angeal cursed. He actually cursed. And then he cursed again. And then he said with absolute loathing, "They plucked it. Hair by individual hair. And then they waxed my eyebrows and my sideburns."
Sephiroth hadn't noticed the sideburns, but now that they'd been pointed out, he decided that they also looked shorter and softer. He failed this time to stop his left eyebrow from twitching, and desperately hoped Angeal hadn't noticed.
His hope was in vain. Angeal's expression darkened and he spat out, "They said those techniques gave them more control over the shape, but I think they're really just sadists at heart. And then they colored my hair and eyebrows! Isn't black dark enough already? No, it's too freaking dark, that's why, so they added highlights! Hair I can sort of understand, but who has highlights in their eyebrows? It took almost three hours!"
"It's subtle," Sephiroth commented. "I didn't really notice your hair color had changed, it just seemed... Like it has more depth, if that makes any sense. I suppose the subtlety's the point. I did notice the new haircut and styling." He still wanted to touch Angeal's hair. He imagined that attraction was the intended goal of the new cut and color. It was all about image, and PR obviously wanted everyone to want to touch that hair. Sephiroth felt an amusing surge of pity for his friend. At least PR had never changed his own hair color.
"Aaargh!" Angeal smacked a fist on the seat cushion.
"Are you going to throw a tantrum?" Sephiroth inquired. "I'd expect that of Genesis, not you. Hair does grow out, you know."
Angeal gave him a dirty look for that sarcastic comment. "Says the man who hasn't cut his hair since he was eleven."
Sephiroth shrugged, not willing to admit to vanity or rebellion, and laid the fault squarely on Public Relations instead. "PR likes it, and so does the public. Just as they like, or will like, your hair's new appearance. Blame the company."
Angeal sighed. "It's not just that. The whole time I was trapped in the makeup chair with foil in my hair and three makeup artists who said they were experimenting with foundation and contour and lip liner and Shiva knows what else, there were these other two weirdos who just kept asking me questions and more questions. I thought the question and answer session was over when Brooke got done with me, but then these other PR freaks came and they just. Wouldn't. Stop. And Brooke just stood back and let them say whatever they wanted!"
Sephiroth kept his lips pinched together so he wouldn't smile. When he had control over his unseemly bout of merriment, he said leadingly, "I don't imagine you made it easy for the photographer, either."
"Photographersssss. Plural. There were three. Plus assistants. And they all had their own ideas about lighting and posing and props and more posing and different lights and—"
"Slow down before you hyperventilate."
Angeal pulled off his gloves and held out his hands. "They even did my nails!" he grumbled plaintively.
The fingernails did look nice, Sephiroth thought. Shaped, filed smooth, and glossed with a layer of clear polish that gave them an attractive shine. "A very professional manicure job. Did they do your toenails, too?"
"Yes, they did my damn toenails!" Angeal thumped the couch cushion again, twice this time. "Why did my stupid toenails need a manicure? I'm going to be wearing boots! It's ridiculous! And I have to go back and do it all again tomorrow! More 'tests' in the morning and then they're going to start taking the 'real' pictures in the afternoon!" He made more air quotes as he said the words "tests" and "real."
It sounded very much like Angeal had reached the end of his rope. It also sounded like there were many equally exasperated PR specialists who had probably been glad to see the back of him.
Sephiroth found the whole situation and Angeal's rants rather entertaining. It was almost a pity Genesis wasn't present. Almost. Genesis's critiques would have been on-point, horrifyingly caustic, and quite funny, but Sephiroth didn't want to deal with the resulting destruction of his apartment that would have almost certainly followed given Angeal's degree of frustration.
"Toenails are just their way of doing a complete job," he said mildly. "It's routine."
Angeal stared at him. "You, too?"
He shrugged. "You haven't really suffered until they've made up your chest to look perfect for photos," Sephiroth told him with little sympathy and a great deal of concealed mirth. It was about time Angeal endured the same indignities that Sephiroth had been forced to suffer for years. Fair was fair, and Sephiroth thought it entirely unfair that Angeal had never experienced the true horrors of Shinra's PR machine before.
How had Angeal managed to avoid the most intense PR duties for so long, anyway? Sephiroth wondered if his friend could be induced to share those valuable secrets. What would Angeal consider an acceptable bribe?
No, not a bribe, that would be dishonorable, of course. Honor wouldn't permit behavior as unethical as accepting a bribe. Make that an exchange of knowledge or services. Surely he could come up with something of sufficient value to trade for lessons in Angeal's tried-and-true, never-fail techniques on avoiding company-ordered publicity work.
Well, maybe not entirely never-fail, considering Angeal's current predicament.
Sephiroth repressed a snort.
"You forget," Angeal said, "I did a centerfold. They put makeup on weirder places than just my chest. I don't remember it being this awful and overdone, though. Or this heavy. I swear this stuff is at least a millimeter thick." He scratched his forearm. "PR did put makeup on my arms, though, and everywhere else there was exposed skin."
Sephiroth guffawed at the mental imagery those statements evoked. "The centerfold shoot was a long time ago," he said, rather than get into what were undoubtedly bizarre and hair-raising details. "You might have repressed the more painful elements of that experience." He tapped his jaw. "At least PR let you keep some of your scruff."
Angeal's hand immediately touched the downy shadow on his chin. "Thank goodness they didn't want it completely gone and only trimmed it down a little. I guess it 'softens' my jawline." And there were the air quotes again. At the rate he was going, he'd soon sprain his fingers.
"Huh," said Sephiroth, keeping his response noncommittal. They'd trimmed it down more than "a little." It was just a faint shadow on his jaw and chin now, barely more noticeable than a five-o'clock shadow. Sephiroth could see why the consultants might think that it helped soften Angeal's features, though. They were thorough, he'd give them that.
Everything they'd done had been to the purpose of softening Angeal's look, and Sephiroth believed he was getting a glimmer of the direction the PR campaign would take. They were definitely going for a sympathetic appearance. Sort of an innocent "who, me?" look that would contrast sharply with the "come and get it" expression (as Genesis had described it the previous night. Sephiroth simply could not get that phrase out of his head, especially as applied to Angeal, and he didn't think he'd ever forgive Genesis for that) the centerfold photographer had managed to coax out of him. The gentler image made Sephiroth want to laugh again, but the general public wouldn't know any differently. They'd eat it up, as Genesis might say.
Sephiroth didn't really appreciate the new look any more than Angeal did, even if he understood PR's motives. Vulnerability, no matter how superficial, did not befit First Class SOLDIERs at any time. An enemy could too easily use it as a weapon, and enemies weren't limited to monsters and Wutai.
They'd never gone that far with Sephiroth. The company always wanted him to have a dramatic, indomitable edge and makeup artists actually went to some trouble to harden his own features. For the first time ever, he was grateful for his carefully crafted public image as Invincible Stoic Warrior Hero. Far better than Subtly Cuddly Toy Moogle that they seemed to be going for with Angeal. It didn't suit him. Angeal was every bit as capable of sneaking up on an enemy sentry and cutting his throat, setting bombs in a sabotage operation, utilizing mundane objects as deadly weapons, and ruthlessly mowing down an army of opposing warriors as any other battle-seasoned First Class SOLDIER.
Sephiroth had seen him do all that, and more.
The kindly, manufactured image wouldn't fool anyone who knew him well, but with Angeal's lack of a distinctive public persona, it could work. Sephiroth could easily visualize the resulting photos and predict the online chatter to come: Poor man, abused by the nasty mean tabloids, such-a-disgrace-how-could-they-treat-one-of-our-heroes-like-that? He's the most honorable SOLDIER, no one should have ever tried to humiliate him, those awful villains.
Of course, the small changes were artful enough that no one would pick up on the blatant manipulation. Sephiroth was certain the photographers would make the most of it with careful lighting, backgrounds, and poses. Shinra always selected supremely talented holoimaging artists. Most people viewing the new pictures would just feel unconsciously protective and not even realize why. It would certainly help the process of discrediting the centerfold's authenticity in the public's eye.
Poor Angeal.
Sephiroth suppressed more laughter and decided he'd tortured Angeal enough about his new look. He changed the subject by asking, "Anyway, do you want something to drink?"
Angeal ground out, "A glass of water, please. I got somewhat dehydrated today under the lights. They gave me plenty of water, but I had to drink it through a damned straw so I wouldn't mess up my makeup and especially the Gaia-damned lip gloss and I must not have gotten enough liquid because I'm still feeling like I could drink gallons of the stuff."
"Yes, that's not unusual. Take a minute to catch your breath and settle down." He went to the refrigerator to fetch some bottled water. It wasn't normal for Angeal to talk in run-on sentences like that, though it was entertaining to see him so wound up.
He returned with an armful of cold plastic bottles. He handed one to Angeal, placed the others within easy reach on the coffee table, and sat down. As Angeal uncapped it, Sephiroth asked with spurious innocence, "Do you want a straw?"
Angeal gave him a disgusted side eye and guzzled the entire bottle. Wordlessly, Sephiroth handed him another one, which was also promptly guzzled.
He hadn't been kidding about being dehydrated.
When he stopped drinking the water like it was going out of style, Sephiroth asked, "You never did say what Veld wanted."
Angeal huffed a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Yeah, I guess I was too busy bitching about my day. Thanks for putting up with me."
"The first time I was handed over into PR's clutches I needed to vent, as well. It was before I met you and Genesis and I was only thirteen, so I didn't have any good outlets. I just chewed on my pillow," Sephiroth admitted ruefully.
"Thirteen?" Angeal's overly made up eyes widened. "I never knew that."
Sephiroth gave a minute shrug. "It wasn't ever important enough to mention. It's nothing to me now, just another ridiculous duty required by Shinra."
"Well, it's not my first time with PR, but it's my first time where they went crazy like that. Sheesh, thirteen. Now I really feel awful for griping so much. I guess I should stop."
No, don't stop, Sephiroth almost blurted out. Angeal's griping was far too entertaining, and Sephiroth was enjoying the most marvelous sense of lighthearted schadenfreude listening to it, simply because his successfully un-publicized friend was finally suffering an aggravation that he knew very well indeed. About time Angeal shared in the joy, he thought once again.
"Go ahead and continue. You shouldn't keep your feelings bottled up. It's not healthy," he said instead, hoping he sounded encouraging rather than gleeful.
"Look who's talking," Angeal sniped. He shook his head, exhaled slowly and raked his fingers through that glittering hair. He grimaced and looked at his hands like they'd betrayed him. "Damn hair goop. Makes my scalp feel weird."
Sephiroth pounced on the golden opportunity to touch that fascinating, fluffy hair. He reached over and rubbed a few locks. His fingers encountered no actual glitter, just an awful lot of product that held the style. It made Angeal's hair feel smooth and, contradictorily, also somewhat crunchy. What a letdown. "I see. It's not really any different than how mine feels when they're done with it. Just...fluffier."
Angeal slapped the offending hand away, but he was snickering. "I hope that stuff washes out."
"If you don't wash everything off, they'll just do it themselves tomorrow morning," Sephiroth warned him. "Based on your complaints, I'd say you won't enjoy it. They want a clean, bare canvas of hair and skin to paint on, as one of them once told me. Be sure to shower thoroughly and scrub off all the makeup and hair product."
"Ugh." Angeal rolled his eyes.
"Did they give you any special cleansers? I usually get some creams and makeup removers."
Angeal gestured at his bag sitting by the door. "I've got quite a few jars of different kinds of glop. I guess I just slather them on and wash it off?"
"Yes, that's the basic idea. At least one should be a facial cleanser. It should dissolve all the different makeup products you're encased in right now," Sephiroth said with a knowing smirk, "though you still might need to do some scrubbing. There'll be instructions on the jars. They have different purposes. You'd better use them all or your makeup artists will know. I think you can leave the nail polish alone, though. They'll take care of it when it starts to chip." He quirked an eyebrow in amusement.
"Ugh," Angeal repeated, and guzzled another bottle of water.
"So, about Veld?" It was never good to be foremost in the thoughts of the Head Turk. Veld's continuing interest seemed reasonable on the surface, but Sephiroth knew from long experience to distrust appearances when it came to Turks.
Angeal wiped water from his mouth with the back of his arm, smearing a bit of makeup in the process. "Nothing exciting. You know how I didn't want my mom or anyone else in Banora involved? Well, Veld just told me not to worry about it and that the Turks would take care of it."
Sephiroth raised both brows at that and said, "Oh?"
"Yeah, I guess Brooke found the time to contact them about it. She mentioned it during our interview, and I noticed she disappeared for a while when her buddies were grilling me. Veld said he'd assigned extra Turks to Banora to discourage any nosy reporters who showed up." He shook his head. "I have no idea what they're going to do about phone calls and the online crap, though."
"Brooke probably didn't have to do or say anything," Sephiroth remarked. "Veld or Tseng would have thought of controlling access to Banora right away. It's their job, though Brooke might have prompted Veld to speak with you. The Turks hate journalists, especially the ones who sling mud."
Angeal huffed out a laugh at that. "Except when the journalists are slinging mud at Shinra's enemies."
"Of course." Sephiroth's lips twitched into a small smile. "Those journalists they love, temporarily at least. I'm certain the Turks already have the Banora situation under control. They'll probably screen all calls and block any that are suspicious, and put filters on all networks that connect to Banora." Shinra controlled communications on much of the Planet, so it would be child's play for the Turks. "The reporters will be blocked. So will any of your old neighbors who might try to make some extra gil by contacting them."
He did not add what they both knew: Should reason, polite requests, and technology fail, the Turks would find ways to threaten the entire community to keep their mouths shut about even the most trivial childhood story regarding Angeal.
Angeal dropped his head and stared at the floor. "I hate this."
"At least Veld is looking out for your interests."
"And Shinra's."
"That goes without saying." Sephiroth stared at the wall for a moment, listening as Angeal took another drink of water. Thankfully, he seemed to be slowing down, sipping instead of guzzling. "By the way, I took the liberty of clearing your schedule for the next two weeks. You don't have to worry about any SOLDIER-related activities. Genesis and I can cover anything that comes up."
"Thanks." Angeal set the empty bottle on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, finally relaxing.
"We'll see if more needs to be done later, after your initial two-week assignment is over."
"Most of it's just routine busywork or group classes I teach. I really ought to contact Zack personally, though. He's probably seen that Goddess-damned picture, like everyone else on the Goddess-damned Planet."
"Is that wise? You'll have to lie to him," Sephiroth pointed out. "You can't tell him the truth about anything that's going on."
"Better that than me disappearing on him without a word right after taking him on as a student. It's just courteous. I'll keep the reasons vague. I'll say the centerfold was faked like Veld instructed, and also that I'm tied up with a classified assignment right now. That part'll discourage questions, and it's not a lie, either. Zack doesn't seem to be devious or suspicious at all. He'll believe me."
Sephiroth nodded, trusting that assessment. He accepted that Angeal knew more about everyday courtesy and human interactions than he did. "It's for the best. This will be over soon. It's not the end of the world."
Angeal leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together, and suddenly looked mischievous. "I don't know Zack very well yet, but my initial impression is that he's going to be a handful. I suspect he'd probably find this whole wretched situation pretty funny."
"Oh?"
"He doesn't seem to have an ounce of discretion, though. I wouldn't tell him any real details even if the Turks said it was okay." Angeal uttered a bark of laughter. "He'd probably want to go out and do a nude shoot himself, just for the fun of it."
Sephiroth chuckled at the thought. "A mentor-student centerfold portfolio, so to speak."
"Something like that. I can see it now." Angeal held up his hands with thumbs touching opposite index fingers to form a rectangle as though framing a picture. "The Men of Shinra: SOLDIER Reveals All!"
"The Men of Shinra?" Sephiroth repeated. "You do realize that could include Turks and executives and, though I shudder to mention this, scientists?"
"We don't have to limit it to just men. Hojo, Hollander, and Scarlet could do a group shoot!" Angeal broke out into honest laughter. He leaned back again. "That's pretty close to what you and Genesis wanted to leak to the tabloids, right?"
"You forgot to include the President," Sephiroth reminded him lightly. "You also forgot the sexual-sadomasochistic angle."
"That was a pretty horrifying mental image. I must've been so appalled by it that I blanked it from my mind."
"Genesis and I wanted to leak a story. A picture? That's worth a thousand fake rumors."
"Oh, I don't know. The Turks would just cover it up like they're doing for me. But I bet lots of people would pay big money even for a faked picture." Angeal gave it some thought. "You know, as amusing as it is, faking something like that about them is really a terrible idea. Hojo and Scarlet would find a way to get even."
Sephiroth couldn't disagree. Hojo in particular could be quite vindictive and vengeful. "Not Hollander?"
"I don't know about him. He's always been hard for me to read. His biggest joy in life seems to be finding ways to screw Hojo—figuratively, not literally." He snickered. "He might go as far as posing nude if it would get Hojo into trouble. Hells, he'd probably do it for free."
They shared a laugh at that idea.
"As you said," Sephiroth commented in amusement, "it's a horrifying image."
Angeal leaned in confidingly and lowered his voice. "You know how Genesis admitted he gets requests from artists to pose in the nude?"
Sephiroth nodded, waiting with anticipation for the punchline.
Angeal said with a snigger, "He's not the only one. I ignore them, too, just like he does. My favorite was some sculptor who claimed he was doing an academic study about ideals of musculature and masculine forms throughout the history of Eastern Continent art." He laughed out loud. "Don't ever tell Genesis, though. That plus my centerfold? I'd never hear the end of it!"
Oh, it was confession time, was it? "Since we're sharing secrets that Genesis can never know about," said Sephiroth, "I'll just say: me, too."
"Really?"
"Yes. I get several requests a month. Like you and Genesis, I ignore them." Sephiroth gazed at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Now that I think on it, I'm surprised those requests aren't screened out by the company. Instead, the Turks just allow them to pass through. Strange."
"They probably think it's funny to let us see those things. I wonder what they'd do if any of us ever accepted one?"
"We would undoubtedly be informed in short order that it was inappropriate behavior for highly placed company representatives." Sephiroth delivered that line in a contemptuous tone and with his nose in the air in a convincing imitation of a stuffy, self-important senior executive.
"Okay, we've got dirt on each other now," Angeal said with a grin. "We also agree that Genesis can never, ever find out. Neither of us can ever mention it to him, or even discuss it if he's somewhere nearby. Those enhanced ears of his would pick it up for sure. He never misses any dirt. Let's pinky swear on it." He held out his right hand, little finger extended.
Sephiroth stared at him, baffled. "Pinky swear? Is that some peculiar Banoran custom?"
"It's an important, unbreakable promise," Angeal said with such grim solemnity that Sephiroth immediately became suspicious. Angeal continued, "Most people learn it as children. It means you'd rather die a horrible death than break your word."
"My childhood inside Shinra precluded learning such things." Odd that he'd never encountered it during the Wutai war, though. Maybe none of his comrades had ever felt he needed to swear such an oath.
"It's never too late to learn something new." Angeal continued to look serious, but there was an amused glint in his eye.
Now Sephiroth was certain Angeal was putting him on. He'd learned long ago that Angeal's sense of humor sometimes tended toward the bizarre. However, he saw nothing wrong with swearing to keep the details of their discussion hidden from Genesis, who would mock them relentlessly should he ever discover the truth.
Besides, it pleased him inordinately to share a secret with Angeal that Genesis would not be party to. It wasn't very nice to exclude one of his friends, but those two already shared so much from their childhood that he'd never understand. He knew intellectually that they didn't mean to shut him out, but sometimes when they seemed to know what the other was thinking without words he couldn't help but feel a little melancholy and resentful. He'd never had a connection like that.
It was Genesis's turn to be on the outside. Sephiroth felt the same smug satisfaction that he'd experienced while listening to Angeal's complaints about the PR test shoot. He'd thought it then and he thought it now: Fair was fair.
Curious about the mechanics of the pledge, he extended his own right pinky. Angeal hooked his around it and shook their hands up and down. At the same time, he traced a cross on his chest with his free hand and intoned, "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye." He finished, still totally deadpan, and looked expectantly at Sephiroth. "Your turn."
It was absurd and a little grotesque, but as eternal, unbreakable vows went, not the worst Sephiroth had ever heard. Wutain warrior oaths in particular could be quite convoluted and specified much more gruesome consequences for an oath breaker. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."
Angeal nodded and unlinked their little fingers. "Excellent, now neither of us can ever, ever tell Genesis."
Sephiroth looked up from his examination of his pinky. "I agree. We have made an inviolable oath to keep Genesis in the dark for the rest of our lives." How pleasing. He quirked an eyebrow. "I did not need to make such an oath, but this cements it."
"Absolutely."
"Does this mean I can poke out one of your eyes with a needle should you ever let our secret slip?" he asked, feigning seriousness almost as well as Angeal in the name of their current private joke.
Angeal looked too thoughtful and too serious again, which told Sephiroth everything he needed to know.
"I suppose it does." Angeal grinned. "Same goes for you."
"Amateur. You clearly haven't spent enough time around the Science Department if you think that's much of a deterrent."
He almost laughed at the way Angeal grimaced.