Tseng's current position. Feel free to hop in.
Tseng hadn't had any real human contact in a very long time.
It was really getting to him. He wasn't the machine he used to be.
Mechanical joints, always oiled, moving smoothly. Expressions always blank, no gears turning within to distort it, never. Always neatly sealed. Always with the grace of a large cat. Calloused fingers on a trigger. Dark blue suits. Sleek black cars inhabitants of the Midgar ghetto didn't dare to steal the hubcaps from. Tseng, many moons ago, was deadly perfection. One of Rufus's favourites, most definitely. He was few of words, kept to himself generally, never stepped out of line, yet had only begun to realize what it was to feel when the end was too near.
Sometimes he could still feel the prongs of pain licking his flesh. Yet somehow, he was here again. There wasn't any light to see, there wasn't any explanation for his continuation of existence. It left Tseng in a mental tizzy, walking the fine line between the living and the dead. His existence was personally doubted far too often for his sanity's liking.
No longer was he perfection. He gained things like wit, loneliness, the secret urge to feel someone close to him, in several manners. It was uncomfortable, and you could see it in the way he moved the machine wasn't such anymore---he moved more naturally, if awkwardly; he could speak more and his face sometimes contorted into things like anger and spite. Tseng was learning again what it was to feel, yet there was nothing left for a dead man like himself to feel for. It was hard to put himself back together.
He never stayed in one place too long. He was quite stir crazy now. With a large trigger itch; yet he was determined to never join something like ShinRa again, for his own personal health. Sometimes he would intentionally get himself fired (the effort of asking to quit was too humiliating) from the already unstable jobs he held. It was a vicious cycle. Money was dwindling. Tseng started to miss people that usually irritated him.
Currently he sat with himself in some random, cheap inn in Kalm. He didn't know the area, didn't care to look at it. He wouldn't be here too long. It was just another faulty attempt to find his niche in the world with no room for dead men. There was no Reno to drop by yet, there wasn't anyone to talk to. The laptop was getting duller and duller by the moment and so he resorted to exiting his room, heading outside, and wandering the streets.
Clothing hadn't varied much. A suit, though not dark blue. Black, this time, with matching shoes, a tie, and shades. Tseng was identifiable as Tseng, still, and yet he moved too much like a real person to really seem like his old self.