[CLOSED/COMPLETED]
WHO: Elena [suits_me], Reno [stray_redbird ], Rude [
expert_stoic ], Rufus Shinra [vespertinedawn]
and, of course, Tseng Liu [black_honor ]
WHAT: A meeting. A discussion. A beginning.
WHERE: The Devil's Nest; a privately rented booth in the back.
WHEN: Day126, late in the evening, around 11PM
It was all just enough. The darkness piggybacked the heavy fog of smoke that crept into all the corners like a plague, the sound of billiards played tag with the intermittent pieces of people talking, conversing: it was all enough to distract, to keep wandering eyes and ears from straying where they need not to. There were enough people around, enough business going on, that it couldn't have been more perfect if Rufus had hired them all himself, positioned them against the tables and the stools, given them the roles to play. The words to say.
Music drifted from another room, far enough away that it was a gentle and almost comforting lull, but close enough that it provided another buffer of protection for the discussion to be had.
The blanket of all these distraction did little for Rufus himself, sitting in the farthest corner of the room at a large circular booth and table. Clad as he was in dark slacks and a navy blue button down, the clothing and the mood of the bar did little to take away from the cleanliness of his very being: blond hair was still damp from an earlier shower, flat against his head, and blue eyes scanned the area once more before settling on the papers in front of him.
The information he held was so precious and so vital, the words might have bled the man's own scarlet. There was little emotion that played across his features then. A single hand, lifted, a cuff pushed back with the motion and looked at the time. Almost. It was almost time.
Pushing back his hair over his ear with the flick of his wrist, he let his eyes move again, calmly, over numbers and dates, and waited.
expert_stoic ], Rufus Shinra [vespertinedawn]
and, of course, Tseng Liu [black_honor ]
WHAT: A meeting. A discussion. A beginning.
WHERE: The Devil's Nest; a privately rented booth in the back.
WHEN: Day126, late in the evening, around 11PM
It was all just enough. The darkness piggybacked the heavy fog of smoke that crept into all the corners like a plague, the sound of billiards played tag with the intermittent pieces of people talking, conversing: it was all enough to distract, to keep wandering eyes and ears from straying where they need not to. There were enough people around, enough business going on, that it couldn't have been more perfect if Rufus had hired them all himself, positioned them against the tables and the stools, given them the roles to play. The words to say.
Music drifted from another room, far enough away that it was a gentle and almost comforting lull, but close enough that it provided another buffer of protection for the discussion to be had.
The blanket of all these distraction did little for Rufus himself, sitting in the farthest corner of the room at a large circular booth and table. Clad as he was in dark slacks and a navy blue button down, the clothing and the mood of the bar did little to take away from the cleanliness of his very being: blond hair was still damp from an earlier shower, flat against his head, and blue eyes scanned the area once more before settling on the papers in front of him.
The information he held was so precious and so vital, the words might have bled the man's own scarlet. There was little emotion that played across his features then. A single hand, lifted, a cuff pushed back with the motion and looked at the time. Almost. It was almost time.
Pushing back his hair over his ear with the flick of his wrist, he let his eyes move again, calmly, over numbers and dates, and waited.