【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-Star Resort and Casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
Due to unprecedented high demand we are temporarily unable to check you in to your reserved room. We apologize for the inconvenience. We have arranged for a temporary room while we work on processing your reservation as quickly as possible. We appreciate your understanding.
As a special wedding gift from us, we have arranged for you and your new spouse to stay in one of our junior penthouses while you wait. Congratulations on your new marriage. We are so pleased you have chosen our resort for your honeymoon.
You will be notified as soon as your official reservation has been processed. Your comfort and happiness are our utmost priority. We hope you enjoy the provided amenities and lose yourself in marital bliss. 】
EVENS
EVENS: NEW CHARACTERS
Music plays. Instrumental, the tune gentle enough not to disturb peaceful rest. The sudden insistent beep of the Watch is a cutting cacophony across an otherwise sweet lullaby. Upon opening their eyes, new arrivals will quickly discover that something is wrong. The quilt snug across their body is weighty. Crystals glint in a weave of embroidery and cotton shimmers with threads of silver. Dozens of decorative pillows surround the bed. The gauzy curtains of the canopied bed are drawn, obscuring the rest of the room.
Extravagant for a kidnapping. Too extravagent. What’s more, these new guests will find something even stranger than this new diamond-studded suite tucked into bed beside them. Someone else. Who are they, what are they wearing? What happened last night?!
Guests are encouraged to explore the resort from here! There are paper maps available for those who would like and staff are happy to recommend locations if they have any preferences. Enjoy your honeymoon, you lovebirds!
ODDS
ODDS: SPECIAL RE-ARRIVAL
Never trust a hallway in the Golden peacock.
Cross the wrong threshold and time begins to slow. A short hallway becomes long, sheds its doors, only leading to turns without end. Guests too eager to explore the resort have gotten lost before. For how long always varies, dependent upon capriciousness of the resort. Hours? Yes. Years? Yes. Every guest caught in the winding hallways has reported the same thing: time is different there and too difficult to discern.
Some wayward guests have been caught in the endless hallways since the FIRST TDM. Weeks pass before a single doorway appears in the distance. It creaks upon opening before everything goes topsy-turvy. These guests have been let out of a trap door in the depths of Crane's Respite.
All water corridors will eventually lead back to the populated areas of Crane's Respite. The waters are warm, the scent of bath salts returns, and staff are wild with joy at finally finding all of you. They have been beside themselves searching ever since you vanished!
NOTES
PROMPT NOTES
▶ Because we love all of the new characters premiering on this TDM, we kindly request that our Evens prompt be top level exclusive for new characters. Current characters are encouraged to tag in to these prompts with the caveat that they’ve been picked up from their assigned suite (or wherever else they were before) and dumped into the new arrival’s bed. We would like for new characters to have this prompt unique to their top level comments!
▶ Players are welcome to have their current character riff off of these prompts in the log community with the exclusion of the new arrival element. This request is just for TDM top levels.
▶ Current characters and new characters are both welcome to freely mess around with the Odds prompt with the exclusion of the arrival element. For new characters, players may participate with the idea that their character is exploring Crane’s Respite after their unique arrival in the Evens prompt. The Odds arrival element may also be utilized by current player characters who may have been on an unofficial hiatus in January and did not tag as much as they would have liked, to explain any long IC absence.
▶ Octopi may be killed. If a character decides to eat one of the octopi they may find themselves taking on some of its traits. Which traits are up to player discretion.
ELEVATORS
ELEVATORS
The house has recently ordered a full changeout of art in all high traffic areas. The elevators in particular have received special attention with many different famous artworks and portraits studded to the walls for guests to admire. These artworks are treasures of the modern world that one would typically see behind glass at a museum. Guests may even find works from their own world hanging in the elevators. Even famous works that maybe have been lost to time. So this is where they ended up. Is that Vermeer's The Concert?
Guests may find their elevator suddenly stopping without warning. The portraits on the wall stir, curiously studying them, but there are three main portraits calling the shots. The portrait that controls that particular elevator will make their demands known with the threat that, if they are not obeyed, you will be trapped forever.
Elevators will function after the portrait's demands are met. Guests that hold out and refuse may find themselves trapped upwards of twelve hours. Guests with the ability to do so may crawl out of the top emergency door, free to go wherever they want from there.
GREAT TIT!
GREAT TIT!
Great Tit! is the Golden Peacock’s popular dessert bar and cafe. With its bright pops of color and whimsical treats, guests simply can’t resist stopping in for a butt shaped cookie and hazelnut coffee. After catching wind that the resort has decided to celebrate a dessert shop's most lucrative holiday, Great Tit! is ready to impress the masses. Advertisements for limited edition drinks and desserts rain the main lobby; one can’t go three steps without slipping on a neon pink coupon for 10 percent off nipple buns. Guests that decide to pass by the cafe will find themselves assaulted with confetti cannons and eager employees ushering them inside.
Guests will find a temporary communal shower room upon exiting Great Tit! where they can wash off after a fun day of rolling around in sugar. All guests will be gifted a tee branded with a, CHOCOLATE IS MY LOVER logo.
NOTES
PROMPT NOTES
▶ This portraits prompt has been triggered by several characters expressing interest in and investigating the lore of the resort paintings. This is just dipping a beginning toe in, but congrats to all for poking around!
▶ Portraits in the elevator should not be destroyed, purely for continuity’s sake. If a character would go far enough to attack one of the portraits, the portrait will slap them back with ghostly power.
▶ Characters may also figure other ways out of the elevator if they have specific abilities to do so. While the portraits can control the elevators, they cannot control your character(s). Any destruction to the elevator itself is liable to result in a rush of security dragging the culprit(s) away to the Iron Net.
▶ Great Tit! is running a massive sale! Even characters who are on the broke end of the spectrum will be able to afford to join in on the fun and indulge in sugar at these prices.
▶ Players are encouraged to make up any other elements for the Hall of Chocolate. If it’s a dessert and edible, it’s there. Enjoy your sugar coma!
▶ While the chocolate boxes are ICly limited due to Alessandro’s skills as a chocolatier, this is only an IC mechanic. There is no OOC limitation on this prompt as far as chocolate rarity goes.
THE NEST
ALICE AND THE PARROTS
Fashion boutiques are a dime a dozen in the Nest. The shopping hub is massive, lined with stores all trying to aggressively appeal to guests. A challenge in itself — but the guests of the Golden Peacock are no ordinary people. Used to being pampered and fed excitement, if these boutiques don’t bust their bottoms to appeal to the fickle nature of their patrons, they won’t be in business for much longer! One particular boutique, Alice and the Parrots, is riding winds of romantic thrill and churning out a couple of brand new fashion lines sure to draw in loads of chips.
Guests are welcome to try on clothes in Alice and the Parrots' dressing rooms. These dressing rooms are small and can only accommodate two people sharing at a time. Such is the life of a small boutique store. Sharing is no big deal, right? And there’s no way you can buy clothing this expensive without giving it a test first.
NOTES
PROMPT NOTES
▶ Players are encouraged to make up whatever cute outfits they would like for this prompt.
▶ Wedding clothes do not have to be cute and frilly; this section accommodates tastes of everyone.
▶ Alice and the Parrots is more expensive than Love Dove. Their clothing quality is excellent but their price tags are high. Staff may watch low ranks extra diligently to cut off any stealing. Thieves will be chased by NPC security! Anyone caught gets a day in the Iron Net.
CASINO CHAPEL
CASINO FLOOR
A Pop up Chapel has appeared in the Phoenix Casino. Guests are delighting in playing out weddings and pretending to get married — and a few guests are even tying the knot for real. They aren't worried about the sanctity of marriage; they can divorce tomorrow if they get bored of each other. And everyone knows that getting married doesn't mean you can't fuck whoever you want!
Since the resort isn't keeping track of how many marriages a guest has, all guests are encouraged to marry as many people as they would like. The more the merrier!
Wild wedding events will continue all throughout the month of February, until the guests find it's gotten stale. A divorce rush will round out the fun at the end of the month.
NOTES
PROMPT NOTES
▶ Weddings are not legally binding. Birdvis is not registered as a real officiant, but he does have an excellent beak and pompadour.
▶ Prizes from easy mode slot machines are automatic and do not require mod thumbs up to claim.
▶ Chip prize from difficult mode slot machines is automatic. The special prize is 5 reward points to add to your bank on rewards. Players who wish to claim the special prize should link the finished thread (the kink in question has been completed) under their rewards header with the header, Wedding Slot Machine. If you do any combination of 6/6 (finger hand lol) we ask you somehow make this sexy or involve a climax in order to claim the points.
BLANKET CW: Aphrodisiac; Compulsion; Costumes; Dubcon; Entrapment; Foodplay; Gambling; Lingerie; Matrimony; Tentacles; NSFW Images and Language; NTR; Nudity; Roleplay; Sacrilegious Themes
▶ All new characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. The house is still observing and deciding. As rank and suits are assigned upon acceptance your new character's suit will not manifest until they are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's February event.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Please make sure to review the arrival prompt notes! Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are priority and receive attention!
▶ If you aren't satisfied with the prompts on this TDM please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort.
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread anyway!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Thank you for spending Valentine's Day with us! You're our sweetheart this year. 💕
[Well, as abductions go, this is arguably one of the more bizarre ones that could've unfolded, isn't it?
Whatever it is that rouses Rufus from his reverie, it's surprisingly not the sound of the watch; he's too light and too vigilant a sleeper for that, more likely to come awake fast from a shift of weight on the mattress that shouldn't be there, or the movement of a bit of fabric that registers wrong. Regardless, he finds himself awake prior to his companion, cracking his eyes open into thin slits as he takes stock of the situation he's found himself in as best he can without letting on that he's even awakened at all.
There's a loosely-knotted tie around his neck — good thing it's slack, or he supposes he might've choked himself on it in his sleep — and the brush of a stiff collar near the line of his jaw. Not the clothes he would've gone to sleep in. Also not the clothes he last remembers wearing. Someone's changed his attire while he was unconscious? The thought makes a little twist of frustration burn in the pit of his stomach — it can't be helped, but still, the possibility that he might've been handled while unawares is...
Not important right now. Back to assessment.
There's music. The lights are soft but the room is well-lit enough to make out shapes. Are those...balloons? The scent in the air is unmistakably floral, and delicate without being cloying. Either someone's spending a lot of money to make their abductees comfortable, or there's more to this picture than it initially seems. So what, then — a power move? Who gains from something like this?
Well. Barring the arrival of any other source of information not currently present, the only obvious avenue is the warm body apparently tucked into bed beside him.
He moves carefully, but works fast, taking care not to let the mattress dip or jostle as he yanks the tie from his throat and turns it into a makeshift set of bonds; he's under no illusion that it'd do much more than slow his mysterious companion down less than a minute should they actually try to break free, but a lot can happen in a minute and it's more time than he'll need if things should happen to go that way.
...Which is how you might just find yourself waking up with your hands tied. That's not awkward at all, is it? Also, who's that blond guy prowling the room? Maybe he knows what's going on — or maybe he'll at least pretend he does so as not to give the appearance that he's got no fucking clue how any of this happened, either.]
B. WELCOME — ELEVATORS
[It's not quite his trademark outfit, but fortunately the wedding lounges boast a selection of high-quality options in a variety of colors, which means that by the time Rufus has hit the bank of elevators, he's reasonably back to his usual sense of style — a structured white coat, black gloves, black suit. (Probably he sashays a little bit less as he's walking around because there aren't USELESS BELTS HANGING OFF EVERYWHERE ALL OVER IT.) He's got his hair sorted out, his Watch on his wrist, his supposed "wedding band" in its box in his pocket — who knows, it might come in handy — and he's ready to take the lay of the land.
(He's not even going to remark about the fact that he's evidently got to share his elevator with another guest instead of them just knowing to leave him alone to it, this Miranda Priestly fuck that he is.)
Of course, then the elevator grinds to a halt, and his otherwise impassive expression turns slightly harder and more guarded as the painting begins to speak, and without moving his head, his gaze flicks between the chattering artwork and the person he's once again been trapped with...]
If it's the JUDGMENTAL JOHN...[...and a smirk crawls at the edge of his mouth, and he folds his arms across his chest, affecting disinterest.]
Our crimes? That's a weighty accusation to be made on no proof.
[He glances over to you, beside him in the elevator, still smirking faintly.]
Not claustrophobic, are you? Seems we might be here a while.
If it's the TEASING TRIO...[...and his expression goes flat, almost exasperated, and he glares at the portrait like he instinctively thinks he can just stare it down into submission if his singular look is vehement enough.]
What a waste of time.
[Cute? Sweet? Flirting? It's not even that the entrapment itself is offensive — it is to be sure — but that the penalty is something as insipid as this. Like, really? They're supposed to put on some meaningless performance of sugary-sweet nonsense just to entertain this artwork?
Ridiculous. He's not looking altogether happy as he glances over at you about this.]
You might as well get this over with, then.
[...does he. Does he think you're just going to fangirl over him, or...]
C. CASINO CHAPEL — SLOT MACHINES
[Now this is more like it — the foundation of what really seems to be going on around here. With a drink in his hand that he actually isn't drinking much from, Rufus is doing a very small amount of mingling and a whole lot of observing, watching the surrounding passerby as they interact with the slot machines. Some seem delighted by their pulls; others seem a little dejected as they check the results sent to their Watches, but the common denominator of all of it seems to be heading off to act out with others. Which is less than ideal from a perspective of personal preference, sure, but what's interesting is how no one really seems to question it. Quite the contrary, playing along seems to be the means for personal advancement, if the standards of Game 52 are any indication...
And he's yet to be assigned his Game 52 number. Which mean he's probably being observed right now while the determination is weighed. Which means if he's assigned a unsatisfactory designation, he'll be less desirable to others, with fewer avenues for advancement — to say nothing of the personal detriments.
In other words, he's going to have to play this game. More than that, he's going to have to play it well.
It's not as though he's averse to simply lunging right into the difficult machines — what's the use of playing at all if you're not going to gun for the high reward, whatever the risks? — but there's something to be said for making sure he's tested the game for any potentially unpleasant twists or surprises first, so possibly a run or two of the easy machines couldn't hurt, either. What matters is that he's able to get his foothold where he needs it to be, after all — and it's just as important to make sure his performance looks natural as it is to make sure that it's what this assigning committee wants.
His first easy roll proves to be: ADMIT A KINK | SOMEONE NEW | ON THE DANCE FLOOR. His first difficult roll proves to be: FINGER | FACE | IN THE COAT CLOSET.
...Great. He's got his work cut out for him, then, doesn't he. If you're in one of those two places, maybe he'll approach you...?]
D. WILDCARD & NOTES
[If none of the above prompts are working for you, I'm also happy to write custom starters or roll with wildcard tag-ins for other aspects of the resort and TDM!
OTA to anyone for gen encounters, 20+ only for spice; Rufus himself is 30 in this incarnation with no gender preference.
Please feel free to PM this journal with questions about specific kinks or ideas! I'm really excited to give him a spin and see how this goes.]
[Aerith had been minding her business, comfortable in her pink sweater dress with ribbon accents, floral stockings and ankle boots. Her hair had finally dried after her unceremonious dunking in the caves into a mass of unruly curls held back from her face by a pink ribbon. Content to simply enjoy the new artwork since she'd never been able to check out the galleries up on the Plate, she'd been content to sip her rose latte in peace.
Until she saw who stepped into the elevator with her.
Aerith managed not to choke, or even make a face more than a slight widening of her eyes before she looked away. Maybe if she didn't look at him he wouldn't notice her, or better yet, recognize her, which was the most ideal situation out of all of them.
At least until the elevator lurches to a halt and she has to brace herself before she topples into him. Well, good thing she had a fairly decent sense of balance still, patting her dress back into place and grateful she hadn't spilled the last of her latte. Pausing in the middle of straightening her clothes, Aerith freezes, then squints up at him.]
...Excuse me?
[Is...is he joking? He must be joking. Aerith checks behind herself just in case but no, they really are the only ones here aside from the painting, and she puts her free hand on her hip as she frowns up at him.]
You don't seriously expect me to do all the work, do you?
[It's...possibly a little bit overly optimistic to hope that Rufus wouldn't know precisely who it is he's standing in this elevator with on sight — particularly when his most recent glimpse of her had been related to Cloud trying quite vehemently to keep her away from him, and obviously Cloud himself had left quite the impression — but whether or not it's to his benefit to do anything about it is much more of an open question. There's benefit in waiting this out and seeing how it plays; if she's got friends here, possibly he can follow her to them and take stock of who is and isn't accounted for. If she makes the first move, then she makes the first move.
He's not altogether expecting the elevator to grind to a halt, though, or for her to be quite so affronted at his suggestion that they just get this resolved quickly.]
Why not? You want to get out of here, don't you?
[He regards her impassively, and drops a little bait.]
I'd think it'd be a relatively minor concession in exchange for getting away from me as fast as you can.
[Her brows arch at that, and then she smiles. It's pretty, but there's an edge to it that normally isn't there.]
Or maybe I'll just leave us both stuck in here for hours, out of spite. Ever consider that? It's not like I have anywhere better to be, so why would I want to flirt with you? It's not like I haven't made it a living, escaping Turks, after all.
[She huffs a laugh, only for her nose to scrunch when she realizes she's polished off her latte. So much for having something to ignore him for. Still, her mouth twists, and she glares up at him.]
So no, maybe I don't feel like it. It's not like you've ever done anything that would make me want to flatter you. You'll have to try harder, Rufus, this place is already a prison I've been stuck in for—
[She pauses, thinking it over.]
Actually, I don't know how long I've been stuck here.
[The drinks have done plenty for Daan's nerves to settle by now, and he has since compartmentalized a lot of his hang-ups for the day. As such, he's holding a half empty (or half full if you're gonna be like that) glass of whiskey. At least they serve some top quality liquor here.
He's at the coat closet, mostly to see about trying to find the blazer he'd come in with. It's about that time he spots a well dressed man approaching.
Daan pauses, then straightens up to look at him.]
Am I in your way? [he kind of doubts it because Rufus is already wearing an impressive white coat as it is]
[No one ever said that this shit was going to be easy, but damn if the roll he'd got on the difficult machines isn't throwing him for a bit of a loop. It's not as though it couldn't be a lot worse, mind — he'd definitely had some luck in pulling something relatively straightforward off a machine that could've forced him to figure out how to go fuck on an altar, for example — but even the obvious method of making a rational deal to secure a stranger's agreement gets a little tortured when it involves trying to establish an impassive means of shoving some fingers in their mouth.
Because obviously nobody's fingers are getting anywhere near his. At least if he's giving, he can wear gloves. And then change them. It's fine.
(Where the fuck are his Turks when it would make all of this ten thousand times less complicated.)
Anyway, there's already a man in here, and he's drinking — much the same as what Rufus has got in his own glass, it seems. At least he's got a modicum of taste. This will probably be fine. Maybe.]
If you thought you were, wouldn't you already have moved?
[It's been something of a bitter pill to swallow, that the name "Shinra" doesn't throw nearly as much weight around this place as he's accustomed to. That doesn't mean he's not still going to act like it. But he's smiling faintly as he says it, which betrays a bit that he's mostly gauging to see what sort of response he might get.]
[Well, either this fellow is self-entitled or just assertive. Though it could be both. Daan assumes he's going to find out pretty shortly from this little interaction, wherever it may take him.
There's a pause as he takes a casual sip from his glass, then tilts his head as he looks at the fellow. Well groomed, well dressed, here with some sort of intention. They're at the casino, so it's fair to say it's got to be a game of a sort. Daan just isn't certain which one yet.
Time to discover what that would be.]
I suppose you're just going to have to find out, won't you?
So. You're here with a purpose. Whatever could it be for, friend?
[ It's like being in Victoria all over again, surrounded by high and haughty nobles more concerned with their appearance and reputation than basic human rights. Tiresome but not unfamiliar, and it turns out that behaving the same way as she had in Victoria will earn her similar results here. A cold shoulder to anyone that approaches and terse answers to all giggling questions means she's left alone after the first twenty minutes and given free reign to slowly prowl around the dance floor, taking note of both her surroundings and her fellow residents in this strange resort she's found herself in, with its strange game imposed upon everyone present.
It'd be easier if it were more like the Major, a tireless and no-holds-barred battle to the top, but she's no stranger to the debauched and tawdry, even if it's not her vice of choice.
Another circle around the dance floor brings her back to where she started, along with the approach of another stranger. Dressed in a clean black suit, her horns spiraling out from either side of her head, she spares him a cool glance. ]
I'm not interested in a dance.
[ Unless it happens to be a euphemism for a good fight. ]
I don't recall asking you for one. Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?
[Though it's not really a coincidence that this was the individual he'd decided to approach to test his slot machine endeavors — quite the contrary, her avoidance of others and their lascivious shenanigans is precisely what'd made her stand out as a viable candidate. The last thing he wants is to follow through with this with someone who might think it means something — or worse, an invitation of some variety. No, the faster and simpler he can get this done, the better.
The smile he returns isn't exactly a warm one, but it's not particularly nasty, either. It's about the same temperature of cool as the disdain she seems to hold for him. Perfect.]
Quite the contrary, I have a business proposition.
[ Archer doesn’t usually appear ruffled when strange things happen, and this time is no exception. He listens as the bizarre painting says its piece, gray eyes sharp and calculating even though he projects an easy sort of practiced indifference.
He considers the response of the man trapped inside with him and merely tilts his head slightly in response. ]
The House has ways of knowing things the rest of us would blush at, I’m sure.
[ Thanks for that unhelpful, cryptic comment, Archer. But no, he is wholly convinced this resort is an elaborate trap of some kind. The power to transcend space and time is nothing to laugh at, and part of him feels like he’s waiting for shoe to drop at any moment.
But those are his own private thoughts, not to be shared with this stranger. No, he’d much rather poke the bear, so to speak. There’s nothing better to do, after all. ]
Though I wonder if you’re more concerned about the prospect of crimes being known or if it’s the idea of being punished that bothers you more.
If they already know, then demanding a confession is fairly pointless, don't you think?
[Honestly, it's almost a — not comfort, exactly, but it's a familiarity, the generally impassive way that the stranger in his midst takes to the painting's challenge. It's the sort of brevity he'd expect from one of his Turks: no howling, no whining, no flying off the handle. Just rational assessment and business.
Good. Maybe they'll actually be able to get something done, here.]
Besides, I'll only be punished if my supposed crimes are worse than yours. And if you thought you were more blameless than I am, you'd have already set the wheels in motion with a confession of your own.
[ Sylvain had actually been on his way towards exiting the coat closet - don't ask him what he'd been up to in there, he doesn't kiss and tell - but he wasn't in any hurry. And his path is blocked anyway when he sees a blond man step into the entrance, looking around.
Lips quirking faintly, Sylvain pauses a few steps away, his head cocked slightly to the side as he eyes him curiously. ]
You're not lost, are you?
sylvain pinging this like: wow, a guy with dimitri's looks and felix's hatred of everything
[It's a mutual sizing-up of each other, what takes place in the handful of moments that Rufus is blocking the entranceway and Sylvain is waiting to get free; even after the question is posed, he just kind of lets it hang in the air a moment without responding, like the idea of bothering to answer something so blatantly ridiculous is utterly beneath him.
Maybe it is.
Regardless, if the generally disheveled look of this particular man is any indication, he's been in here Up To Something™ — which means he's probably not likely to ask too many questions if he's propositioned for a second go. Receptive. It's not ideal, but Rufus can work with it, probably.
He raises an eyebrow, letting a hint of a smile drift across his lips as he leans a little emphatically against the doorjamb, now blocking exit by intention rather than by circumstance.]
I might ask you the same thing. At least I'm coming in here with a coat on — whereas you don't appear to be leaving with one.
[ he'd spend these last couple of months wondering what the hell to do with himself—no Turks, no Rufus, no nothing—and just like that, he has his answer. while he typically wears some dressed-down version of his usual attire from home, casual outings to his favorite hangouts for occasions that are decidedly less business oriented often see him in some stupid shirt, and that's how he spots his beloved boss: smoking indoors as you do in a casino, suspecting nothing, in some stupid shirt. Reno waylays Rufus in the hall the second he lays eyes on him (well, maybe the fifth second, because the other four are for surprise and a couple other emotions he wouldn't want to acknowledge even if this weren't urgent).
those first few minutes are crucial information-gathering opportunities, and by the time Reno's encouraged Rufus to come up to his suite so they can talk in at least relative privacy, he's already come to suspect there might be, how u say, timeline fuckery afoot once again. that's something he'll have to address later, though, because they don't make it up to his suite. they make it about halfway before the elevator grinds to a halt, and Reno scoffs under his breath, makes some remark about how he just came down just fine a minute ago which is half drowned out by accusations of sins, sinners, sinning, and the like.
he meets Rufus's glance then, his impatient sneer melting away into a smirk of his own. right then, boy is he ever happy about the turn of events that brought Rufus here, no matter how disadvantageous their respective positions might be. it's the shared glance of two people with a storied history and so many skeletons in the closet between them that there's barely space for anything else. if they were totally alone, they—well, they'd never play such a stupid game to begin with, but it's Reno's position that he knows all of Rufus's and Rufus knows most of his, so it'd be easy enough to get through it unscathed. but a third party listening in?
they'll have to play it smart. ]
It's always some shit with the place, I'm tellin' ya... should've taken the stairs.
[ his grin widens, devil-may-care as if deliberately in spite of their predicament, and pulls his pack of smokes from his pants pocket. maybe they can smoke the stupid painting out. ]
No prize for winning, even? Fuck this game. [ sticking the cig between his lips, he pats his other pockets for his lighter. ] 'Course, I wouldn't put it past them to find some way to make us play if we wait around too long, so there's that. Your call, boss.
rufus out here like where the FUCK are my turks and reno just falls out of the sky god bless
[It's funny how something as simple as discovering Reno's presence here at the resort can have such a powerful effect on Rufus's overall demeanor — not that anyone save perhaps one of his Turks would even know him well enough to spot it, that is. It's not so much Reno himself as it is just the restoration of something missing, the familiarity of having one of his best weapons back at his side, the structure of being the implicit superior of something again. He could have done this on his own, of course. He would've played the game, found suitable connections to exploit, clawed his way up into status and power by whatever means it took to get there —
But it's just so much easier to navigate like this. Case in point: the painting makes its demands and there are absolutely no illusions about how — assuming he were to decide that they're playing its game, which he hasn't yet — this all would unfold. Reno would throw himself on the sword, because that's his job, and say something damning; Rufus would offer something less so. He'd administer whatever punishment would get the doors to open, and Reno would take it, and they'd be on their way. That's how this works. That's one avenue to being done with it all.
That said, he's still deciding whether it's the route they're going to take to begin with.]
You're not lighting that in here.
[He just got these clothes, he's not about to get hotboxed in cigarette stink while they figure out how to make their escape from this elevator.
That said, the information Reno is passing along in his idle remarks is worthwhile: things like this happen often enough to be expected, and taking the time to find an alternative way out might not work to their advantage. If there is to be a confession, then it's going to be on his terms, not that of some arbitrary compulsion. Particularly not when there'd be no telling just what form the compulsion might take until it's too late to be avoided.
He flicks a glance at Reno, gauging even as the edge of his mouth turns up in a smirk.]
A prize for losing, if you're a glutton for punishment.
[Because of course, here's the other side of it: he doesn't have his Game 52 number assigned yet. Someone is assuredly watching this. Without a doubt, they'll be watching for compliance, and it might not be in their best interest to be too recalcitrant, either.]
[ Navia doesn't mind sharing the elevator, of course, though she begins to regret it a little when she realizes just what an unpleasant air the gentleman next to her radiates. Oh well, elevator rides aren't usually that long.
Until they are, it seems. Navia turns to look at the painting, leaning in to try and figure out just how this thing works until Rufus vocally expresses his displeasure. ]
It seems harmless enough, at least. Maybe if we--
[ Rufus all but commands Navia to get this over with, and she stands a little straighter, hands on her hips, clearly incredulous. ]
I beg your pardon?
what are you gonna do navia take him to opera court about it
[Honestly, regret isn't an uncommon emotion for people crossing paths with Rufus, whether it be the first time or the ten thousandth. Still, all things considered, he doesn't seem particularly affronted even when she draws herself up in her indignation and squares up against him; it's even more of a waste of time, to be sure, but his impatience is mostly with the painting as opposed to with her specifically.]
You have an alternative suggestion?
[He leans just slightly against one of the elevator walls, loosely folding his arms across his chest.]
I'd be more than willing to circumvent that nonsense. And I expect you don't disagree.
[ in tseng's professional opinion, this is an extremely bad idea. there are far too many people in this room, for one, and he wasn't given a chance to case it for potential threats, for two—the entrances and exits he'd clocked as soon as they walked in, yes, but that's not enough, not really. not when they have no idea where they are or how they got here, when the terms of this abduction have yet to be made clear.
but rufus didn't ask for tseng's professional opinion, so. here they are. tseng stands behind him and slightly to the right, his hands tucked behind his back as he watches rufus pretend to sip from his drink and cast his gaze around the room. the ringing noises of the slot machines are too-loud and grating, and tseng feels his shoulders tense just a little further with every drunken partygoer that stumbles a little too close to rufus, but the more tseng observes, the clearer it becomes that this is indeed the game, and they are going to have to play.
it's too soon to fully understand the calculus of power in this place, but rufus has always been good at grasping the fabric of a situation and plucking from it the threads that will get his foot in the door. if the messages on their watches are to be believed, then in this place, sex is the currency that buys influence, and rufus shinra has never been one to shy away from seizing influence in any shape or form.
it doesn't surprise him when rufus steps forward to pull the lever. what does surprise him is the words that appear, one after another: RIDE | FACE | IN THE BRIDAL SUITE. ]
That's going to make it difficult to guard you, sir. [ tseng's tone is measured, a little wry. ] Are you sure about this?
[If there's one thing that Tseng has surely long since become familiar with by now, it's Rufus's tendency to never back down from a high-risk course of action if the reward in question is sufficiently worth it. Case in point: by now he's managed to get enough of a lay of the land to catch on that "extra large" payouts come few, far between, and generally through a lot more time and dedicated effort than a single spin of a slot machine's roulette. It's by far the most direct solution to securing resources for himself. The faster he can lock down and solidify his position, the better.
Of course, that's before his roll comes up. He's done a few previously, and lucked out in that they were relatively...achievable. This one, by contrast, is —
Well. It's riding face in the bridal suite. There's not much ambiguous about all of that.
To his credit, his distaste never makes it into his expression; quite the contrary, he's busy thinking through possibilities and alternatives, weighing out courses of action and arranging them by viability. The security risk that Tseng raises is a valid one, on its face — but Rufus, being Rufus, is also capable of reading between the lines, and picking up on the implications that Tseng doesn't give voice to.
For this to be a security risk, his person would have to have unique value, distinguishable value. Under normal circumstances, his bloodline and connections would accomplish that. But those aren't present here, which means that in truth, Tseng simply doesn't like this. He really doesn't like this.
Hardly surprising. He's not exactly thrilled with it, either.]
...Let's go examine this suite.
[He's not going to dignify the question with a direct answer, of course. The direction will more than do that, at least until they're out of the generally public eye.]
[ She'd recognized him only after she'd stepped into the elevator. Otherwise, she'd have waited for another. As it is, her fists are clenched at her side, eyes at the floor while she tries to keep her heart from pounding. Letting her emotions control her was a sure way to make a decision she regretted, or be a hair too slow in a fight.
She's in a suit that may as well pass for a Turk. Maybe that's why he doesn't think twice about her. Or maybe he's just an arrogant ass.
It's not worth it. He might not even be from the same...version of Midgar she is. He might not know what's happening yet. He might not be as accommodating as Reno has been. Were she and Rufus Shinra friends in the future? That seemed...a lot less likely.
And then he protests with all the privilege of a rich brat whose never had to pay for anything, and the image of Sector 7 falling flares in her mind and her rage feels like it suddenly burns out of the flimsy box she's been keeping it in all these weeks. ]
You don't even remember me, do you? [ It's a hiss, her eyes dark, her feet taking up a fighting stance without her even meaning to. ]
[It's funny how much she gives herself away with that one biting remark. It's the sort of thing that a lot of people might have mocked her for, certainly; he can imagine with perfect clarity the way his father would do it. By challenging him with the implication that she's beneath his notice, she acknowledges as a possibility that she might very well be, making the whole of the conversation balance on her ability to prove her worth or not. It's an easy mistake to make, really — giving someone else the implicit authority to decide your value.
He knows better than anyone what it feels like to make that mistake. To crave that notice. To insist on being taken seriously as a threat, with her little shift in weight like she's steeling for a fight.
It's a shame, almost. She evidently wants to prove to him her right to stand on equal footing, and in doing so establishes from the start that they're already not.]
Should I?
[He does, but there's no reason to give that up in exchange for nothing in return. Besides, she came out of the gate swinging (figuratively, and possibly soon literally), so there's really no reason for him not to be a petty bitch about things right back.]
Well, I can see you're just dying to remind me, so by all means.
[ Hilda can certainly see the appeal of sneaking away to have some privacy in the middle of a coat closet but she has neither partner nor any real reason to be in the coat closet. She didn't even have a coat yet which is a different tragedy in and of itself - although on second thought a coat would completely detract from the beadwork of her chosen wedding attire. Her makeshift solution to the giant cut out over her chest to hide her newly acquired scar had turned out quite well all things considered. Might as well show it off until she finds other clothing.
All of that is to say that the only plausible reason that she's yanked the coat closet door open is because she thought it was a door to something else. Specifically the bathroom. Apparently not. For a minute she stares exasperatedly at the dark room that seems to stretch on impossibly far before turning on her heel to leave when she spots the tall blonde coming down the hallway. ]
[You know, all things considered when it'd come to the costuming choices of this resort and their untimely arrival, Rufus could've done a lot worse. At least he's got...y'know. Clothes. The sheer volume of impractical, uncomfortable, or otherwise awkward garments he's been seeing around today, particularly on the women...whoof.
He would've noticed her even if she hadn't called out to him, but once she does, he lets his attention focus on her more deliberately; he's not really looking to be drawn into a conversation, but he is looking to accomplish his slot machine's direction, so he might as well consider any possible avenue to achieving it.]
Naturally. It's the coat closet, isn't it?
[Who knows if it's labeled with signage but it'd be pretty stupid if it was, wouldn't it.]
You're on the wrong side of the venue. Those are along the opposite wall.
[ It was even easier to wake up before his partner, aside from the shared bed being too warm to wake up from, she was the type that was drawn towards leaning up against such heat sources. It was entirely possible that the young woman, dressed in negligee fitting for a post-wedding ceremony, had been one of the reasons why Rufus had woken so early. Too comfortable to mind being handled and tied up, and just pulling herself under the covers again after it's done.
So Rufus was able to prowl around for a while before the extra heat in the bed had faded and Jisu started to stir enough to take in the surroundings. Mostly keeping quiet, as bleary silver eyes spotted the man, Jisu mused about how she probably read a novel that had a scene like this. Not a 'proper' novel at all, either, given the lack of normal clothes she had on under the covers.
It helps her roll with things a little. ]
Mister, do you do this to sleeping people often?
[ 'This' being the bound wrists she pulled up at the question, slowly pulling herself up into a more sitting position. No trying to get out, yet. Partially to buy time in figuring out what was going on, and with the decorations, it was sending a different message to the truth right now. Should she have called him 'husband'? ]
[By the time the stranger rouses, Rufus has completed his first circuit of the room, giving the assorted gifts, refreshments, and amenities a cursory glance but coming up short on evidence of who might be responsible for his untimely abduction, or who's been left here to accompany him, or what it is they might think they're going to get out of this altogether.
Motive, strictly speaking, is also something he ought to consider, but it's a lesser priority. Motive to bring him harm has been a part of every day of his life. That's what happens when your father owns the world.]
You're in no position to be asking questions, at this point.
[He finds a little section of wall to lean up against, folding his arms loosely across his chest.]
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peacockstop2024-02-10 11:29 am
Rufus Shinra | FF7R | NEW
Whatever it is that rouses Rufus from his reverie, it's surprisingly not the sound of the watch; he's too light and too vigilant a sleeper for that, more likely to come awake fast from a shift of weight on the mattress that shouldn't be there, or the movement of a bit of fabric that registers wrong. Regardless, he finds himself awake prior to his companion, cracking his eyes open into thin slits as he takes stock of the situation he's found himself in as best he can without letting on that he's even awakened at all.
There's a loosely-knotted tie around his neck — good thing it's slack, or he supposes he might've choked himself on it in his sleep — and the brush of a stiff collar near the line of his jaw. Not the clothes he would've gone to sleep in. Also not the clothes he last remembers wearing. Someone's changed his attire while he was unconscious? The thought makes a little twist of frustration burn in the pit of his stomach — it can't be helped, but still, the possibility that he might've been handled while unawares is...
Not important right now. Back to assessment.
There's music. The lights are soft but the room is well-lit enough to make out shapes. Are those...balloons? The scent in the air is unmistakably floral, and delicate without being cloying. Either someone's spending a lot of money to make their abductees comfortable, or there's more to this picture than it initially seems. So what, then — a power move? Who gains from something like this?
Well. Barring the arrival of any other source of information not currently present, the only obvious avenue is the warm body apparently tucked into bed beside him.
He moves carefully, but works fast, taking care not to let the mattress dip or jostle as he yanks the tie from his throat and turns it into a makeshift set of bonds; he's under no illusion that it'd do much more than slow his mysterious companion down less than a minute should they actually try to break free, but a lot can happen in a minute and it's more time than he'll need if things should happen to go that way.
...Which is how you might just find yourself waking up with your hands tied. That's not awkward at all, is it? Also, who's that blond guy prowling the room? Maybe he knows what's going on — or maybe he'll at least pretend he does so as not to give the appearance that he's got no fucking clue how any of this happened, either.]
B. WELCOME — ELEVATORS
(He's not even going to remark about the fact that he's evidently got to share his elevator with another guest instead of them just knowing to leave him alone to it, this Miranda Priestly fuck that he is.)
Of course, then the elevator grinds to a halt, and his otherwise impassive expression turns slightly harder and more guarded as the painting begins to speak, and without moving his head, his gaze flicks between the chattering artwork and the person he's once again been trapped with...]
If it's the JUDGMENTAL JOHN...
[...and a smirk crawls at the edge of his mouth, and he folds his arms across his chest, affecting disinterest.]Our crimes? That's a weighty accusation to be made on no proof.
[He glances over to you, beside him in the elevator, still smirking faintly.]
Not claustrophobic, are you? Seems we might be here a while.
If it's the TEASING TRIO...
[...and his expression goes flat, almost exasperated, and he glares at the portrait like he instinctively thinks he can just stare it down into submission if his singular look is vehement enough.]What a waste of time.
[Cute? Sweet? Flirting? It's not even that the entrapment itself is offensive — it is to be sure — but that the penalty is something as insipid as this. Like, really? They're supposed to put on some meaningless performance of sugary-sweet nonsense just to entertain this artwork?
Ridiculous. He's not looking altogether happy as he glances over at you about this.]
You might as well get this over with, then.
[...does he. Does he think you're just going to fangirl over him, or...]
C. CASINO CHAPEL — SLOT MACHINES
And he's yet to be assigned his Game 52 number. Which mean he's probably being observed right now while the determination is weighed. Which means if he's assigned a unsatisfactory designation, he'll be less desirable to others, with fewer avenues for advancement — to say nothing of the personal detriments.
In other words, he's going to have to play this game. More than that, he's going to have to play it well.
It's not as though he's averse to simply lunging right into the difficult machines — what's the use of playing at all if you're not going to gun for the high reward, whatever the risks? — but there's something to be said for making sure he's tested the game for any potentially unpleasant twists or surprises first, so possibly a run or two of the easy machines couldn't hurt, either. What matters is that he's able to get his foothold where he needs it to be, after all — and it's just as important to make sure his performance looks natural as it is to make sure that it's what this assigning committee wants.
His first easy roll proves to be: ADMIT A KINK | SOMEONE NEW | ON THE DANCE FLOOR.
His first difficult roll proves to be: FINGER | FACE | IN THE COAT CLOSET.
...Great. He's got his work cut out for him, then, doesn't he. If you're in one of those two places, maybe he'll approach you...?]
D. WILDCARD & NOTES
OTA to anyone for gen encounters, 20+ only for spice; Rufus himself is 30 in this incarnation with no gender preference.
Please feel free to PM this journal with questions about specific kinks or ideas! I'm really excited to give him a spin and see how this goes.]
B. The Teasing Trio
Until she saw who stepped into the elevator with her.
Aerith managed not to choke, or even make a face more than a slight widening of her eyes before she looked away. Maybe if she didn't look at him he wouldn't notice her, or better yet, recognize her, which was the most ideal situation out of all of them.
At least until the elevator lurches to a halt and she has to brace herself before she topples into him. Well, good thing she had a fairly decent sense of balance still, patting her dress back into place and grateful she hadn't spilled the last of her latte. Pausing in the middle of straightening her clothes, Aerith freezes, then squints up at him.]
...Excuse me?
[Is...is he joking? He must be joking. Aerith checks behind herself just in case but no, they really are the only ones here aside from the painting, and she puts her free hand on her hip as she frowns up at him.]
You don't seriously expect me to do all the work, do you?
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He's not altogether expecting the elevator to grind to a halt, though, or for her to be quite so affronted at his suggestion that they just get this resolved quickly.]
Why not? You want to get out of here, don't you?
[He regards her impassively, and drops a little bait.]
I'd think it'd be a relatively minor concession in exchange for getting away from me as fast as you can.
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Or maybe I'll just leave us both stuck in here for hours, out of spite. Ever consider that? It's not like I have anywhere better to be, so why would I want to flirt with you? It's not like I haven't made it a living, escaping Turks, after all.
[She huffs a laugh, only for her nose to scrunch when she realizes she's polished off her latte. So much for having something to ignore him for. Still, her mouth twists, and she glares up at him.]
So no, maybe I don't feel like it. It's not like you've ever done anything that would make me want to flatter you. You'll have to try harder, Rufus, this place is already a prison I've been stuck in for—
[She pauses, thinking it over.]
Actually, I don't know how long I've been stuck here.
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C
He's at the coat closet, mostly to see about trying to find the blazer he'd come in with. It's about that time he spots a well dressed man approaching.
Daan pauses, then straightens up to look at him.]
Am I in your way? [he kind of doubts it because Rufus is already wearing an impressive white coat as it is]
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Because obviously nobody's fingers are getting anywhere near his. At least if he's giving, he can wear gloves. And then change them. It's fine.
(Where the fuck are his Turks when it would make all of this ten thousand times less complicated.)
Anyway, there's already a man in here, and he's drinking — much the same as what Rufus has got in his own glass, it seems. At least he's got a modicum of taste. This will probably be fine. Maybe.]
If you thought you were, wouldn't you already have moved?
[It's been something of a bitter pill to swallow, that the name "Shinra" doesn't throw nearly as much weight around this place as he's accustomed to. That doesn't mean he's not still going to act like it. But he's smiling faintly as he says it, which betrays a bit that he's mostly gauging to see what sort of response he might get.]
Or are you the obstinate type?
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There's a pause as he takes a casual sip from his glass, then tilts his head as he looks at the fellow. Well groomed, well dressed, here with some sort of intention. They're at the casino, so it's fair to say it's got to be a game of a sort. Daan just isn't certain which one yet.
Time to discover what that would be.]
I suppose you're just going to have to find out, won't you?
So. You're here with a purpose. Whatever could it be for, friend?
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captcha this DICK. anyway
slot machine
It'd be easier if it were more like the Major, a tireless and no-holds-barred battle to the top, but she's no stranger to the debauched and tawdry, even if it's not her vice of choice.
Another circle around the dance floor brings her back to where she started, along with the approach of another stranger. Dressed in a clean black suit, her horns spiraling out from either side of her head, she spares him a cool glance. ]
I'm not interested in a dance.
[ Unless it happens to be a euphemism for a good fight. ]
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[Though it's not really a coincidence that this was the individual he'd decided to approach to test his slot machine endeavors — quite the contrary, her avoidance of others and their lascivious shenanigans is precisely what'd made her stand out as a viable candidate. The last thing he wants is to follow through with this with someone who might think it means something — or worse, an invitation of some variety. No, the faster and simpler he can get this done, the better.
The smile he returns isn't exactly a warm one, but it's not particularly nasty, either. It's about the same temperature of cool as the disdain she seems to hold for him. Perfect.]
Quite the contrary, I have a business proposition.
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B. Judgmental John
He considers the response of the man trapped inside with him and merely tilts his head slightly in response. ]
The House has ways of knowing things the rest of us would blush at, I’m sure.
[ Thanks for that unhelpful, cryptic comment, Archer. But no, he is wholly convinced this resort is an elaborate trap of some kind. The power to transcend space and time is nothing to laugh at, and part of him feels like he’s waiting for shoe to drop at any moment.
But those are his own private thoughts, not to be shared with this stranger. No, he’d much rather poke the bear, so to speak. There’s nothing better to do, after all. ]
Though I wonder if you’re more concerned about the prospect of crimes being known or if it’s the idea of being punished that bothers you more.
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[Honestly, it's almost a — not comfort, exactly, but it's a familiarity, the generally impassive way that the stranger in his midst takes to the painting's challenge. It's the sort of brevity he'd expect from one of his Turks: no howling, no whining, no flying off the handle. Just rational assessment and business.
Good. Maybe they'll actually be able to get something done, here.]
Besides, I'll only be punished if my supposed crimes are worse than yours. And if you thought you were more blameless than I am, you'd have already set the wheels in motion with a confession of your own.
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cw: mention of character death and....thoughts of patricide
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cw: bootlicking, just to be safe
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C: Difficult? go big or go home >.>
Lips quirking faintly, Sylvain pauses a few steps away, his head cocked slightly to the side as he eyes him curiously. ]
You're not lost, are you?
sylvain pinging this like: wow, a guy with dimitri's looks and felix's hatred of everything
Maybe it is.
Regardless, if the generally disheveled look of this particular man is any indication, he's been in here Up To Something™ — which means he's probably not likely to ask too many questions if he's propositioned for a second go. Receptive. It's not ideal, but Rufus can work with it, probably.
He raises an eyebrow, letting a hint of a smile drift across his lips as he leans a little emphatically against the doorjamb, now blocking exit by intention rather than by circumstance.]
I might ask you the same thing. At least I'm coming in here with a coat on — whereas you don't appear to be leaving with one.
[Might as well test the waters, at least.]
So. Was that your idea of a come-on?
he's not sure if that's a great combination or a terrible one
well it could be felix's looks and dimitri's...everything
that's just tseng. or maybe more dedue than dimitri
i hate how correct this is and now i can't unsee it
You’re welcome! ;)
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B/judgy john with some editorializing bc we're here for the good shit
those first few minutes are crucial information-gathering opportunities, and by the time Reno's encouraged Rufus to come up to his suite so they can talk in at least relative privacy, he's already come to suspect there might be, how u say, timeline fuckery afoot once again. that's something he'll have to address later, though, because they don't make it up to his suite. they make it about halfway before the elevator grinds to a halt, and Reno scoffs under his breath, makes some remark about how he just came down just fine a minute ago which is half drowned out by accusations of sins, sinners, sinning, and the like.
he meets Rufus's glance then, his impatient sneer melting away into a smirk of his own. right then, boy is he ever happy about the turn of events that brought Rufus here, no matter how disadvantageous their respective positions might be. it's the shared glance of two people with a storied history and so many skeletons in the closet between them that there's barely space for anything else. if they were totally alone, they—well, they'd never play such a stupid game to begin with, but it's Reno's position that he knows all of Rufus's and Rufus knows most of his, so it'd be easy enough to get through it unscathed. but a third party listening in?
they'll have to play it smart. ]
It's always some shit with the place, I'm tellin' ya... should've taken the stairs.
[ his grin widens, devil-may-care as if deliberately in spite of their predicament, and pulls his pack of smokes from his pants pocket. maybe they can smoke the stupid painting out. ]
No prize for winning, even? Fuck this game. [ sticking the cig between his lips, he pats his other pockets for his lighter. ] 'Course, I wouldn't put it past them to find some way to make us play if we wait around too long, so there's that. Your call, boss.
rufus out here like where the FUCK are my turks and reno just falls out of the sky god bless
But it's just so much easier to navigate like this. Case in point: the painting makes its demands and there are absolutely no illusions about how — assuming he were to decide that they're playing its game, which he hasn't yet — this all would unfold. Reno would throw himself on the sword, because that's his job, and say something damning; Rufus would offer something less so. He'd administer whatever punishment would get the doors to open, and Reno would take it, and they'd be on their way. That's how this works. That's one avenue to being done with it all.
That said, he's still deciding whether it's the route they're going to take to begin with.]
You're not lighting that in here.
[He just got these clothes, he's not about to get hotboxed in cigarette stink while they figure out how to make their escape from this elevator.
That said, the information Reno is passing along in his idle remarks is worthwhile: things like this happen often enough to be expected, and taking the time to find an alternative way out might not work to their advantage. If there is to be a confession, then it's going to be on his terms, not that of some arbitrary compulsion. Particularly not when there'd be no telling just what form the compulsion might take until it's too late to be avoided.
He flicks a glance at Reno, gauging even as the edge of his mouth turns up in a smirk.]
A prize for losing, if you're a glutton for punishment.
[Because of course, here's the other side of it: he doesn't have his Game 52 number assigned yet. Someone is assuredly watching this. Without a doubt, they'll be watching for compliance, and it might not be in their best interest to be too recalcitrant, either.]
he's reliable like that
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Teasing Trio
Until they are, it seems. Navia turns to look at the painting, leaning in to try and figure out just how this thing works until Rufus vocally expresses his displeasure. ]
It seems harmless enough, at least. Maybe if we--
[ Rufus all but commands Navia to get this over with, and she stands a little straighter, hands on her hips, clearly incredulous. ]
I beg your pardon?
what are you gonna do navia take him to opera court about it
You have an alternative suggestion?
[He leans just slightly against one of the elevator walls, loosely folding his arms across his chest.]
I'd be more than willing to circumvent that nonsense. And I expect you don't disagree.
OBJECTION!!! opera court is for trials but he can catch these hands anywhere
no one understands how bad i want a bunch of cute girls to beat the shit out of him for real
nothing would please her more tbh
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so the question is, are they free now or does the trio want more?
i'm fine with them getting set free if you are!
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here we fucken go,,, c/wildcard
but rufus didn't ask for tseng's professional opinion, so. here they are. tseng stands behind him and slightly to the right, his hands tucked behind his back as he watches rufus pretend to sip from his drink and cast his gaze around the room. the ringing noises of the slot machines are too-loud and grating, and tseng feels his shoulders tense just a little further with every drunken partygoer that stumbles a little too close to rufus, but the more tseng observes, the clearer it becomes that this is indeed the game, and they are going to have to play.
it's too soon to fully understand the calculus of power in this place, but rufus has always been good at grasping the fabric of a situation and plucking from it the threads that will get his foot in the door. if the messages on their watches are to be believed, then in this place, sex is the currency that buys influence, and rufus shinra has never been one to shy away from seizing influence in any shape or form.
it doesn't surprise him when rufus steps forward to pull the lever. what does surprise him is the words that appear, one after another: RIDE | FACE | IN THE BRIDAL SUITE. ]
That's going to make it difficult to guard you, sir. [ tseng's tone is measured, a little wry. ] Are you sure about this?
i'm still losing my shit about "nonvoting" 🤝
Of course, that's before his roll comes up. He's done a few previously, and lucked out in that they were relatively...achievable. This one, by contrast, is —
Well. It's riding face in the bridal suite. There's not much ambiguous about all of that.
To his credit, his distaste never makes it into his expression; quite the contrary, he's busy thinking through possibilities and alternatives, weighing out courses of action and arranging them by viability. The security risk that Tseng raises is a valid one, on its face — but Rufus, being Rufus, is also capable of reading between the lines, and picking up on the implications that Tseng doesn't give voice to.
For this to be a security risk, his person would have to have unique value, distinguishable value. Under normal circumstances, his bloodline and connections would accomplish that. But those aren't present here, which means that in truth, Tseng simply doesn't like this. He really doesn't like this.
Hardly surprising. He's not exactly thrilled with it, either.]
...Let's go examine this suite.
[He's not going to dignify the question with a direct answer, of course. The direction will more than do that, at least until they're out of the generally public eye.]
we are hilarious!
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B - Judgemental John (I chose violence)
She's in a suit that may as well pass for a Turk. Maybe that's why he doesn't think twice about her. Or maybe he's just an arrogant ass.
It's not worth it. He might not even be from the same...version of Midgar she is. He might not know what's happening yet. He might not be as accommodating as Reno has been. Were she and Rufus Shinra friends in the future? That seemed...a lot less likely.
And then he protests with all the privilege of a rich brat whose never had to pay for anything, and the image of Sector 7 falling flares in her mind and her rage feels like it suddenly burns out of the flimsy box she's been keeping it in all these weeks. ]
You don't even remember me, do you? [ It's a hiss, her eyes dark, her feet taking up a fighting stance without her even meaning to. ]
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He knows better than anyone what it feels like to make that mistake. To crave that notice. To insist on being taken seriously as a threat, with her little shift in weight like she's steeling for a fight.
It's a shame, almost. She evidently wants to prove to him her right to stand on equal footing, and in doing so establishes from the start that they're already not.]
Should I?
[He does, but there's no reason to give that up in exchange for nothing in return. Besides, she came out of the gate swinging (figuratively, and possibly soon literally), so there's really no reason for him not to be a petty bitch about things right back.]
Well, I can see you're just dying to remind me, so by all means.
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thank you for the thread! this will be my last tag, however!
slot machines!
All of that is to say that the only plausible reason that she's yanked the coat closet door open is because she thought it was a door to something else. Specifically the bathroom. Apparently not. For a minute she stares exasperatedly at the dark room that seems to stretch on impossibly far before turning on her heel to leave when she spots the tall blonde coming down the hallway. ]
If you're looking for the bathroom this isn't it!
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He would've noticed her even if she hadn't called out to him, but once she does, he lets his attention focus on her more deliberately; he's not really looking to be drawn into a conversation, but he is looking to accomplish his slot machine's direction, so he might as well consider any possible avenue to achieving it.]
Naturally. It's the coat closet, isn't it?
[Who knows if it's labeled with signage but it'd be pretty stupid if it was, wouldn't it.]
You're on the wrong side of the venue. Those are along the opposite wall.
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Arrival, because someone should give Rufus his interrogation itch! /slams table
So Rufus was able to prowl around for a while before the extra heat in the bed had faded and Jisu started to stir enough to take in the surroundings. Mostly keeping quiet, as bleary silver eyes spotted the man, Jisu mused about how she probably read a novel that had a scene like this. Not a 'proper' novel at all, either, given the lack of normal clothes she had on under the covers.
It helps her roll with things a little. ]
Mister, do you do this to sleeping people often?
[ 'This' being the bound wrists she pulled up at the question, slowly pulling herself up into a more sitting position. No trying to get out, yet. Partially to buy time in figuring out what was going on, and with the decorations, it was sending a different message to the truth right now. Should she have called him 'husband'? ]
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Motive, strictly speaking, is also something he ought to consider, but it's a lesser priority. Motive to bring him harm has been a part of every day of his life. That's what happens when your father owns the world.]
You're in no position to be asking questions, at this point.
[He finds a little section of wall to lean up against, folding his arms loosely across his chest.]
Who are you, and what are you doing here?
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