(no subject)
Who: Reeve Tuesti, Vincent Valentine
Status: Open by phone call
When: 12:00 AM
Where: Studio apartment, Sector 4
What: After a rather vehement argument with Rufus (and his subsequent breaking of all ties with the WRO) and news of the dead returning to life, Reeve is left with a very, very large set of problems on his hands- problems that will only get worse before they get better.
He was going to be sick- Reeve knew it, and was barely able to make it to the bathroom in time before his nerves made his stomach revolt. Funny, he'd been careful earlier in the evening to avoid this sort of situation; yet here he was now, head hanging over the toilet bowl, vomiting until his stomach was empty. What have I done?! his mind screamed, The Planet... the WRO... how can I keep them together without- and he dry-heaved before resting his head against the cold porcelain.
The patter of Cait Sith's little boots on the floor echoed behind him. For a moment he couldn't speak, but then gloved paws pressed a glass of water into his hands. "Reeve?" the feline asked hesitantly. "What're... what're we gonna do now?"
"... I-" Reeve's mind was reeling. Not two minutes before, Rufus had told him he was shutting all ties- a leech, he'd called him. A burden on ShinRa. He sipped at the water, regurgitated it, then settled for rinsing the bitter taste out of his mouth. Now that he'd had his moment of panic, a cold sort of fury was building inside him. So Rufus honestly expected him to sit back and let him gloat, browbeat him, use him as a whipping boy - to sit back and beg like a dog, letting him rant and rave and then lick his hand afterwards? No. No. Reeve was done with that, had been since the moment on the Sister Ray when he'd been dragged off into the prisons. Never again. "I... Cait." He took another sip of water and held it down after a brief struggle. "Get Yuffie up. I want everything in the Junon and Edge accounts shunted into our secondary in Wutai. Keep the minimum amount of money in to keep the accounts active, but move the rest."
"Ri'. Should I put a hold on all spendin' ya ain't personally approved too?" Cait was already following his thoughts; he felt a small surge of pride in his creation. So evolved, so much more intelligent now than the day Reeve had literally brought him to life. "Yer gonna haveta talk wi' th' finance directors firs' thin' in th' mornin'."
Reeve nodded slowly, rubbing his wrists. They'd started to ache along the edges, those scars- the permanent reminders of what being ShinRa's dog had cost him. He allowed himself to scratch briefly under Cait's chin, eliciting a metallic purr. "Get the memo out. I'll be taking off as soon as I get that settled. Go on. I've got other fish to fry."
With a nod, Cait trotted off; Reeve knew his little robotic mind was already connecting with the banks, preparing everything to go. Pausing only to flush away the remnants of his dinner, he strode out into his studio and sat back into an overstuffed leather recliner. The WRO crest- the original drawing of it he'd made- was framed and hanging across the room. That was his dream. That was his goal. It had become his goal the moment he'd coordinated the evacuation of Midgar, sending the thousands of people in the city to safety. To keep those people safe, to make their lives whole again after stratifying them. And damned if he was going to let anyone or anything stand in his way.
And then there was the matter of Aerith. Aerith, alive... he himself had never met her, but Cait had. And he needed to meet her. If only once.... Reeve sighed and sipped at his water, wide awake. And Vincent had just called to boot, asking a 'favor'. Which he'd never turn a friend down, but something had sounded off about him. As if he was hiding something. and that worried him as well, since Vincent was generally very straightforward. So much going off-kilter in the world, and Reeve was sitting in the middle of it. Why did he keep feeling like his world was going to tumble, like a house made of cards?
Status: Open by phone call
When: 12:00 AM
Where: Studio apartment, Sector 4
What: After a rather vehement argument with Rufus (and his subsequent breaking of all ties with the WRO) and news of the dead returning to life, Reeve is left with a very, very large set of problems on his hands- problems that will only get worse before they get better.
He was going to be sick- Reeve knew it, and was barely able to make it to the bathroom in time before his nerves made his stomach revolt. Funny, he'd been careful earlier in the evening to avoid this sort of situation; yet here he was now, head hanging over the toilet bowl, vomiting until his stomach was empty. What have I done?! his mind screamed, The Planet... the WRO... how can I keep them together without- and he dry-heaved before resting his head against the cold porcelain.
The patter of Cait Sith's little boots on the floor echoed behind him. For a moment he couldn't speak, but then gloved paws pressed a glass of water into his hands. "Reeve?" the feline asked hesitantly. "What're... what're we gonna do now?"
"... I-" Reeve's mind was reeling. Not two minutes before, Rufus had told him he was shutting all ties- a leech, he'd called him. A burden on ShinRa. He sipped at the water, regurgitated it, then settled for rinsing the bitter taste out of his mouth. Now that he'd had his moment of panic, a cold sort of fury was building inside him. So Rufus honestly expected him to sit back and let him gloat, browbeat him, use him as a whipping boy - to sit back and beg like a dog, letting him rant and rave and then lick his hand afterwards? No. No. Reeve was done with that, had been since the moment on the Sister Ray when he'd been dragged off into the prisons. Never again. "I... Cait." He took another sip of water and held it down after a brief struggle. "Get Yuffie up. I want everything in the Junon and Edge accounts shunted into our secondary in Wutai. Keep the minimum amount of money in to keep the accounts active, but move the rest."
"Ri'. Should I put a hold on all spendin' ya ain't personally approved too?" Cait was already following his thoughts; he felt a small surge of pride in his creation. So evolved, so much more intelligent now than the day Reeve had literally brought him to life. "Yer gonna haveta talk wi' th' finance directors firs' thin' in th' mornin'."
Reeve nodded slowly, rubbing his wrists. They'd started to ache along the edges, those scars- the permanent reminders of what being ShinRa's dog had cost him. He allowed himself to scratch briefly under Cait's chin, eliciting a metallic purr. "Get the memo out. I'll be taking off as soon as I get that settled. Go on. I've got other fish to fry."
With a nod, Cait trotted off; Reeve knew his little robotic mind was already connecting with the banks, preparing everything to go. Pausing only to flush away the remnants of his dinner, he strode out into his studio and sat back into an overstuffed leather recliner. The WRO crest- the original drawing of it he'd made- was framed and hanging across the room. That was his dream. That was his goal. It had become his goal the moment he'd coordinated the evacuation of Midgar, sending the thousands of people in the city to safety. To keep those people safe, to make their lives whole again after stratifying them. And damned if he was going to let anyone or anything stand in his way.
And then there was the matter of Aerith. Aerith, alive... he himself had never met her, but Cait had. And he needed to meet her. If only once.... Reeve sighed and sipped at his water, wide awake. And Vincent had just called to boot, asking a 'favor'. Which he'd never turn a friend down, but something had sounded off about him. As if he was hiding something. and that worried him as well, since Vincent was generally very straightforward. So much going off-kilter in the world, and Reeve was sitting in the middle of it. Why did he keep feeling like his world was going to tumble, like a house made of cards?