[What a pair they make. Disastrous. There's perfectly good furniture around and it would all be wildly more comfortable than the floor, to say nothing of the fact that it'd be more appropriate and more civilized, and yet here they are, sprawled like a pair of careless vagabonds simply coming to rest wherever they fall and calling it good enough. His father would hate it, and the thought makes a flash of dark satisfaction course through his blood in tandem with the heady buzz of the scotch.]
Nothing grows in Midgar, except behind glass.
[That's what plants look like, after all — tidy ferns with waxy leaves kept in tasteful installations around the corporate offices. Orderly and neat and strictly controlled, just like everything else.
He lowers the bottle slowly, making no secret of how he's looking at her from over the neck of it, the lip still slightly damp from where his mouth had pressed.]
I'm asking you what you think it's worth. What you deserve in exchange for what was done to you. Is that really the value you'd put on it — some benches and walking paths for general consumption?
hold on i thought you were playing aerith not vincent
Nothing grows in Midgar, except behind glass.
[That's what plants look like, after all — tidy ferns with waxy leaves kept in tasteful installations around the corporate offices. Orderly and neat and strictly controlled, just like everything else.
He lowers the bottle slowly, making no secret of how he's looking at her from over the neck of it, the lip still slightly damp from where his mouth had pressed.]
I'm asking you what you think it's worth. What you deserve in exchange for what was done to you. Is that really the value you'd put on it — some benches and walking paths for general consumption?