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[i_love_squats]

Who: Zack Fair (i_love_squats) and Sephiroth (saner_sephiroth)
When: Backdated to shortly after this.
Where: Seph’s starter apartment.
Format: Paragraph.
What: Zack comes by for a visit. Not with Welcome To The Neighborhood cookies, though.
Warnings: Grrrr-ness.

Comments

[i_love_squats]

There was no dancing around the bush here; straight and to the point. Zack could respect it, hell, did respect it, and that frustrated him. He didn’t want to respect anything about the man. He didn’t want to do anything other than send him home… or somewhere else, some other dimension with big bitey things that sported lots of sharp teeth.

And that frustrated him, too, when he remembered what it was like to look up to someone like Sephiroth, to feel that awe of just being in his presence. What a great man he had been once. What a great man he could still be… if it was before Nibelheim. What was that famous saying? Timing was everything? And it was never truer than now.

Zack stepped into the apartment, keeping Sephiroth in his line of sight at all times. At his side, his fingers curled, unfurled, then curled again, trying to keep loose, trying to keep ready. Seph was so much faster, so much stronger than he looked, and Zack remembered a bitter defeat that transitioned into something almost worse…

And if he had just stopped him from that damn basement in the mansion, maybe none of it would’ve ever happened.

“Just didn’t expect to see you here again,” he said, broad shoulders rolling into a jerky shrug. It was the truth; he hadn’t. Shiva, he hadn’t, and he hadn’t wanted to. “Who have you heard from?”

[saner_sephiroth]

Sephiroth noticed the subtle signs Zack was giving off, but gave no visible reaction. He didn't need to. Masamune or not he was still not a foe to take lightly.

It helped that he trusted his friend. After everything that had happened that might have been foolish of him, but there you were.

The general didn't say a word, simply closed the door behind Zack and strode into the living room. Masamune was resting against the corner like a twisted parody of an umbrella. Having only just arrived the apartment looked pretty much like any of the others, except for the fact that he'd already shuffled all the furniture around so that his back was never to a window or door. Some habits never really die.

"You, the Vice-President, Kunsel, and a Turk," Sephiroth rattled off casually as he slid into a lounge chair near the door. In spite of the opportunity to slouch, his posture was picture-perfect as always. "And...a copy." This last was said with a hint of trepidation, as he certainly hadn't made such an abomination and couldn't quite reason out where it had come from.

He had his suspicions, of course.

[i_love_squats]

Copy? Copy? Zack’s mind shifted back to Genesis anytime someone said that stupid word, and it took a moment for the comprehension to flood his face. One of the Remnants, yeah, right, that’s about it. Poor guy; he almost felt bad for Seph having to deal with them until he remember how they were all inter-connected. Psh, pity off the table.

Blue eyes flickered to the great general’s even greater sword, and then moving back to him. Shiva, where to start?

“Which Turk? Elena or Tseng?” Elena chatted everyone up, so he wouldn’t be too surprised if it was her. She usually got in on the ground floor, after all. He thought about correcting the choice of word in reference to the Remnant, but trying to explain that was going to lead to a whole other source of inquiries, and he couldn’t fill in the blanks on account of being dead. He just knew what he had been told…

Boots scuffed across the floor before he moved to a chair. To sit or to stand? To get comfortable or to stay alert? One hand found the back of the chair, and he leaned, a happy medium. And he felt taller. Win win.

“I bet you have a lot of questions,” he said, hoping to flush more out of him. “Shoot.” But, please, Seph, not literally.