Saturday Evening, Edge, Tseng's Apartment (NFB - Distance)

[findingelena]

So, back in August, Elena had gone back to Edge, with Reno. A surprise visit while on the semester break, so she could kill monsters and maybe get Reno out of deep shit. And then she'd agreed to do some paperwork, for Tseng, and somehow that turned into "and at the end, we'll have a semi-date

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[turk_mailman]

This was not a date. This was absolutely not a date. This was a business arrangement. This was a cordial meeting between two individuals who happened to work together, employer and employee, in fact, who had reached an agreement in regards to work that absolutely needed to be done. The fact that it was to occur in Tseng's living room had little bearing on the situation, nor did the fact that he was cracking open one of the few bottles of fine wine left in the Midgar area that just happened to survive what was quite nearly the apocalypse. And the fact that Tseng had actually pulled his hair back today, for what had to be the first time in at least four years, now, had nothing to do with anything, either.

He was wearing his uniform as a last-ditch effort to remind himself that Elena was his subordinate, thank-you-very-much, and anything beyond conversation over a glass of wine or two apiece would be highly inappropriate

[findingelena]

That was, in fact, the reason she'd picked it. She wasn't going to get anywhere if she wasn't willing to play dirty.

She'd caught that flicker, on his face, and -- and for Tseng, that was an open-mouthed stare from anyone else. And that made the dress the best idea in the history of ever.

She was going to need a moment while her heart entirely skipped a beat or two. Okay, it was back to a steady rhythm, even if it was a little fast.

Her own nod was solemn, and then she smiled.

If he was anyone else, she could have sailed into the room like a goddess or a queen. She was nearly pulling it off, anyway.

"Very well, and thank you," she said, her voice low and warm in her ears. "May I come in?"

[turk_mailman]

"I would hardly make arrangements to meet you here for wine if I wasn't intending to let you inside," Tseng noted, his voice carrying some vague hint of amusement that was tinted perhaps slightly with something else- anxiety? Uncertainty? Whatever it was, it sounded unlike him even to his own ears

[findingelena]

"I suppose not," she said, smiling again. "Thank you."

And now she was going to glide into his living room. Somehow, this dress made walking into gliding. It might be the material, the way it flowed down around her ankles. Whatever it was, it helped with the "sauntering into the room as if you own it, or would like to consider buying it."

It was a very Tseng sort of room. Efficient, simple, and elegant. Curious, she wandered over to the bookshelves, glancing at the titles. Many of them were in Wutaian. An encyclopedia here, a weapons manual there, classic works of literature. All of them looked well-read, but also well-cared for -- no dog ears or torn pages, but plenty of gentle cracks along the spines.

"Where do you find the time?" she asked. Teasing, but gently.