[ That's not a noise he makes often. She'd stake gil on it.
That doesn't mean Aerith can't appreciate getting a laugh out of Rufus, even if it's probably because they're both leaving sobriety further and further behind the longer they sit here drinking like this - she enjoys that she's wrenched such a rusty, almost pressurized noise out of her alleged husband.
While Rufus might be content to keep her in his periphery, Aerith isn't the kind of person to stare in half-measures. She likes to get a good look at things, and while this should be the exception, she turns towards him without thinking, watching his hair move while he speaks, and the statuesque angles of his profile, her eyes occasionally darting to his visible one, catching him looking here and there. It doesn't help that whatever dawning awareness that's keeping her so cognizant of the brush of her skirt against her thighs, almost has an - echo(??) to it, like she's feeling what she feels, and then experiencing it a second time as well.
It's a disjointed situation, but it's quiet enough to ignore for the most part, especially when he's so focused on thoughts of victory and retribution, of winning.
That's his thing, not hers, so when he turns the concept around on her, telling her she deserves to win too, Aerith laughs in surprise, a sweet and genuine sound tempered by the bubbly and whatever's been added to it. ]
Okay, deal– [ Letting go of her champagne Aerith reaches across her chest, sticking a hand out to shake. ] When we get home, you let me back in the Shinra building, and I'll kick Hojo in the balls. [ Adding, after a determined nod. ] Twice. [ Once for her, once for her mother. Tipsy and warm as she is, the idea sounds splendid. ]
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That doesn't mean Aerith can't appreciate getting a laugh out of Rufus, even if it's probably because they're both leaving sobriety further and further behind the longer they sit here drinking like this - she enjoys that she's wrenched such a rusty, almost pressurized noise out of her alleged husband.
While Rufus might be content to keep her in his periphery, Aerith isn't the kind of person to stare in half-measures. She likes to get a good look at things, and while this should be the exception, she turns towards him without thinking, watching his hair move while he speaks, and the statuesque angles of his profile, her eyes occasionally darting to his visible one, catching him looking here and there. It doesn't help that whatever dawning awareness that's keeping her so cognizant of the brush of her skirt against her thighs, almost has an - echo(??) to it, like she's feeling what she feels, and then experiencing it a second time as well.
It's a disjointed situation, but it's quiet enough to ignore for the most part, especially when he's so focused on thoughts of victory and retribution, of winning.
That's his thing, not hers, so when he turns the concept around on her, telling her she deserves to win too, Aerith laughs in surprise, a sweet and genuine sound tempered by the bubbly and whatever's been added to it. ]
Okay, deal– [ Letting go of her champagne Aerith reaches across her chest, sticking a hand out to shake. ] When we get home, you let me back in the Shinra building, and I'll kick Hojo in the balls. [ Adding, after a determined nod. ] Twice. [ Once for her, once for her mother. Tipsy and warm as she is, the idea sounds splendid. ]