intro ; no event ; no aphro.

[steelblackwing]

There were many ways to wake up and Sephiroth had experienced most of them; passing out on his desk after a long night of paperwork and finding a blanket over his shoulders after being laid on the couch by Angeal and Genesis; jolting upwards after a nightmare had taken hold of those scant few hours of sleep; even a hangover induced desire to burn

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sorry i'm late. orz. moving + trouble getting internet turned on. FFF.

[steelblackwing]

The skittishness of the boy simply lured a tip of the man's head towards the right, canting it like a bird would do - or a hunting beast. He made no moves towards the newcomer, though Sephiroth's mind was taking in the words that the monochrome hued teenager, if teenager he was, spoke. Hotel. Tricks. There was no way to miss those eyes narrowing in a thoughtful stare as he regarded the man-child before him, if man-child this being was. He recognized the look, however, the look of wariness and even, yes.. fear. It was the same look he himself had retained in every visit to Hojo's laboratories after a certain age. It was the look of a creature whom knew when there was a monster around.

And Sephiroth knew monsters quite well; after all, was he not a monster himself? He and Genesis and Angeal were all humanoid abominations, insofar as Sephiroth had come to regard the Projects that had spawned himself along with his two friends. And they were not the only ones that had been touched by Hojo's hand. Project V. Project A. Project N. Project C. So many files had fluttered out of his hands, names and faces committed to maddened memory and he smiled at last at the way the other seemed to make a retreat before stepping forward once. It would have amused him if the other stepped back in time, to keep that distance between them, moving to study the number on the door.

"Tricks, is it?"