(no subject)
Characters: Vincent Valentine [notwhatiwas] and Lucrecia Crescent [intimacyphobic]
Location: Lucrecia's Room [Deck 07, 6366]
Date: July 12th, evening
Rating: PG-13
Vincent was certain this was a bad idea. In fact, "bad idea" probably didn't come close to the description of what this was.
Veld was indisposed. Reno was getting over his recent resurrection. Tseng was...correct in his earlier statement that what Vincent was doing didn't help Lucrecia at all, and so he'd taken it upon himself to do the briefing Veld had talked about. No one else could, no one else should have had to.
His problem, his punishment.
He'd spent the last two days steeling himself for this. He listened to her transmissions, watched the video feed from her arrival, thought back through the day he'd found her in the cave. Vincent readied himself to hear her scream at him to get away, prepared the best he could for this conversation. He rehearsed what he would tell her, distanced himself, done everything he could to assure he'd be under control for this. Vincent was fairly certain he'd failed.
But it had to be done. He would leave if things got out of hand; he was more than fast enough to escape one petite woman in blue pumps, after all, and would be able to tell when he came close to the breaking point.
His heart was pounding, and he took a moment to breathe, calm himself in whatever way he could before finally shifting, tucking his left hand back into his cloak and lifting his right to knock firmly on the door in front of him, labeled 6366.
This was such a bad idea.
Location: Lucrecia's Room [Deck 07, 6366]
Date: July 12th, evening
Rating: PG-13
Vincent was certain this was a bad idea. In fact, "bad idea" probably didn't come close to the description of what this was.
Veld was indisposed. Reno was getting over his recent resurrection. Tseng was...correct in his earlier statement that what Vincent was doing didn't help Lucrecia at all, and so he'd taken it upon himself to do the briefing Veld had talked about. No one else could, no one else should have had to.
His problem, his punishment.
He'd spent the last two days steeling himself for this. He listened to her transmissions, watched the video feed from her arrival, thought back through the day he'd found her in the cave. Vincent readied himself to hear her scream at him to get away, prepared the best he could for this conversation. He rehearsed what he would tell her, distanced himself, done everything he could to assure he'd be under control for this. Vincent was fairly certain he'd failed.
But it had to be done. He would leave if things got out of hand; he was more than fast enough to escape one petite woman in blue pumps, after all, and would be able to tell when he came close to the breaking point.
His heart was pounding, and he took a moment to breathe, calm himself in whatever way he could before finally shifting, tucking his left hand back into his cloak and lifting his right to knock firmly on the door in front of him, labeled 6366.
This was such a bad idea.