【 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. 💕
[ tseng steps into the elevator and feels, very briefly, the world judder to a halt around him.
he isn't used to seeing ghosts, but here one seems to be, standing right in front of him. zack fair, in the flesh, looking up at the painting hung on the elevator's wall like this is just an ordinary monday in midgar, like it hasn't been mere months since he was confirmed dead in the hinterlands outside the city, gunned down where he stood by shinra troops.
tseng has 88 letters, back home. he promised he would deliver them and had resigned himself to never having the chance; now he has the chance, but doesn't have the letters. funny how things work out.
what do you even say to a ghost? ]
This is quite a reunion. [ that, apparently. despite being dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a far cry from his usual turk blacks, tseng's posture is the same as always, his hands tucked behind his back as he regards zack and a faint smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
maybe he's losing it, or maybe he's entering his second career as a medium. maybe this is a cruel trick played by the house, trying to get inside his head. whatever it is, tseng has already let too many chances slip through his fingers. ]
Not that you need encouragement not to back down from a challenge...
[ That voice used to bring him some measure of comfort. In a way, he thinks he might have been the only person to think such a thing--he knows that Aerith tremored a little, thinking of Tseng, though he never knew why, and he knows that Reno always sassed about that voice delivering the worst news, always, bringing the tidings of terrible missions and even worse consequences for failing. But to him, Tseng had been something of a friend in the company, someone that he knew had all the answers, someone who would begrudgingly tolerate his sunny laughter, his lame jokes, his complaints, his worries. He'd even seen Tseng smile, once or twice: small, tight things that had made him feel like maybe things wouldn't be so bad, continuing like this. Maybe being in SOLDIER was a good thing. Maybe it could all work out okay.
In the end, it's Tseng that he had been afraid of. The line between the company and his loyalty, the line between his dubious morals and his bottom line: the Turks had been after them, of course, and he had expected as much, but he hadn't expected the thought to hurt so much. If it had been Tseng there, watching him haul Cloud's comatose body out of another safe house, another ditch--if it had been Tseng there, seeing him forced to scavenge for food like they're back in the boonies--would he have taken pity on him? Or would he support the savage boundary that Shinra created? Would their friendship have mattered?
Did he take care of Aerith? He trusted him to do that much--and honestly, in some ways, he wouldn't have begrudged him for anything else. It's not like he's angry, not like he resents him, not like he holds him responsible for the whole of the Shinra company, and Hojo, and everything else.
But it does twist something in him, hearing that voice. When he turns to address him, it's with his usual lopsided grin, carefree and soft; he jerks a hand in indication at the painting, pointing it out with his thumb. ]
Get a load of this, Tseng. [ If he pretends hard enough, can they go back? Can it be like it used to be? Would Tseng like that? Would he let it happen? ] They want something sweet from us. Flirting.
[ His grin broadening, he folds his arms in against his chest. ]
You're not gonna back down either, right? That's what I always liked about you.
[ of all the orders tseng has taken, the order to deliver zack into hojo's clutches in the aftermath of nibelheim had been the one he hated most; of all the missions tseng regrets, his failure to deliver zack from his fate is the one he regrets the deepest. long ago tseng had stopped trying to balance his decisions on a scale of good and evil, no longer believes—if he ever did—that there can be some great karmic reckoning. his good deeds, weighed against his bad ones, will always be found wanting. that tseng did everything he could to save them from the storm he knew was coming can never absolve him of the sin of having put them there in the first place.
it's for that reason that the shape of zack's grin, carefree and familiar, sticks like a knife in between his ribs. the pause was just a second too long for tseng to believe it, and he knows zack (or thinks he knows zack) well enough to know when he's playacting.
but it's such a beautiful little play, isn't it? this illusion of the idea that things could be normal. that they could go back to how things were before—before genesis and angeal, before sephiroth, before zack's blood in the dirt, before sector seven was little more than a pit of burning rubble under midgar. tseng has never been good at pretending, but right now he wants to.
he smiles, faintly. just a little, a quirk at the corners of his mouth. of all the people tseng has worked with, zack has probably seen him smile the most; it seems right, that zack should see him smile in return, now. ]
I'm not sure flirting is in my repertoire. [ his tone is light, casual. just like it would have been, five or six years ago. he isn't sure if zack's carefree smile is an olive branch or a mask to hide a knife behind, but he also isn't sure it matters. ] Are you sure you want me to take the lead on this?
[ Relaxed, his arms fall down out of their fold--he takes to palms on his hips, a small, short pace in front of the painting, considering their options. ]
You've always had a way with words. Flirting's kind the same thing, isn't it?
[ Truthfully, the idea of Tseng actually flirting with anyone is enough to make him laugh; it's not that he doesn't see him as someone attractive, and not even that he doesn't think there would be plenty of people more than willing to be the recipient. But who would be the type of person that Tseng would be willing to flirt with, or even entertain for that kind of attention? Probably not some low paid First Class SOLDIER, but that's okay: they're friends. Were friends. Are friends.
Tseng is smiling, but the smile hurts, a little. It's tighter than it used to be: so things happened, after all that. At least he made it out of things safe himself.
With another soft pace, he turns, a step forward to bring himself right in front of Tseng; glancing down at him, he's all bright eyes and a bright smile, one hand lifting from his hip to give it a gentle, soft ghost through the strands of Tseng's long hair, shifting it off his shoulder. ]
You grew it out. It's pretty, like this. [ Is that flirting? One brow lifts, as if to say come on, let's play. ]
[ quite the contrary, on two counts. one: that knowing how to choose his words and being able to flirt are related; tseng of course knows how to wield words as a weapon, but is much less confident in his ability to use them as a tool of seduction. and two: if he were to learn such a skill, the only people on whom he would ever consider using it would be those he trusts, insofar as a turk trusts anyone. he trusts zack. it’s zack who shouldn’t trust him.
zack lifts a hand to run his fingers through tseng’s hair. is it noticeably longer than it was the last they saw each other? or is this just zack’s way of starting something, a conversation opener? tseng sees that glint in his eye, the encouragement to meet him in the middle, and he swallows back his uncertainty to respond in kind. ]
Are you saying I wasn’t pretty before? [ an eyebrow lifts, but there’s amusement tucked into the corners of tseng’s lips as he replies. as if to take the sting out, he brings a hand up to wrap his fingers loosely around zack’s wrist, thumb against his pulse, the touch gentle. ] I’m heartbroken, Zack Fair.
[ it feels strange, to be doing this. strange, but… not bad, not exactly. just a little outside tseng’s usual skillset. ]
You look the same as always. [ that part is true. ] Handsome. [ that part is true too.
tseng holds his tongue against the temptation to add, i missed you. that might be a third true thing, but this isn’t the moment to say it aloud. ]
[ With anyone else, he thinks that touch could be a warning--the kind that's meant to guide him away, further from where his fingers rest, now comically arched into the air as though they've been caught where they shouldn't be. He could see Tseng doing it himself, catching him by the wrist and, with deadly accuracy, guiding him far enough away to be out of reach. But the painting is here, overseeing this interaction, and more than that, the emotions that he can pick out of Tseng's gaze are convoluted, guarded and careful. He can't gain anything from looking at him--he can't read him as well as he could, and that tells him a lot about the kind of things that Tseng must have endured in his absence.
Rather than let himself be brushed off, or encouraged away, he lays that palm flat on Tseng's shoulder--it's comical, in a way, as though he'll take him up around the waist with his other arm and guide him into a dance or something equally ridiculous. Perhaps it's more that Tseng wanted to check the steady beat of his pulse against his skin; perhaps this is the sort of place where he could have easily ended up undead. ]
Nah. [ There's a warm smile on his lips, a faint shake of his head. ] You were always pretty. But everyone knew that. You didn't hear it all the time?
[ The smile turns a little lopsided; his hand moves, curving over Tseng's shoulder down along his back, fingers lost underneath the shadow of his hair.
A part of him wants to ask is this how you remember me but he doesn't want to drag the conversation away from their mission. ]
Am I the kind of handsome that can fix your broken heart? I'll do whatever it takes.
[ it’s rare, for tseng to let someone get this close to his throat, but with zack he doesn’t hesitate. the warmth and weight of his hand against tseng’s shoulder is oddly comforting, like another little reminder that here, zack is alive and well; that here, his body has tangible form again, that he’s no longer just a ghost haunting tseng’s memories.
the question earns a laugh-snort, one that tseng tries and fails to hide into an inelegant cough. that had been true, once—that zack was one of the few people who could always make tseng laugh. ]
I didn’t. Most people wouldn’t dare. [ tseng has no commentary on his own prettiness, but he can guess that many people working in hq were too afraid of him to provide any kind of commentary on his looks. tseng wasn’t exactly known for being approachable. ] But you’ve never been most people, have you?
[ the way zack’s hand moves over the curve of his shoulder, over his shoulderblade and down his spine sends a shiver running up the other way. it’s so rare that anyone touches tseng without meaning him harm; he feels almost starved for it, a brief flash of hunger in his expression before he schools it away into something warmer, more affectionate. ]
Mm. [ he tilts his head, considering. studies zack’s face, the familiar lines of his nose, the curve of his mouth. the women in the painting titter faintly, but tseng is hardly paying them attention anymore. ] I might make you work for it a little. Do you think you’re up for the challenge?
[ There's a dramatic rise and fall to his shoulders, a breath stolen out of his chest as though tinged with playful exhaustion--but this is how it's always been, right? He's always been chasing at Tseng's heels, throwing himself right into the fray only to be left a few steps behind all the same. It's one of the infuriatingly wonderful things about Tseng: he sets the bar fluidly, carefully, and every time he meets it, he finds it's moved another few inches. For others, that might be frustrating, but he likes the challenge; it's a good use of his boundless energy.
Still, he isn't so practiced at hiding his own emotions; they bleed out of him all the same, through the grin that he can't restrain and the hand that drums, thoughtfully, against the middle of Tseng's back. He doesn't mind the offer in the slightest. ]
Come on, you know it's not really gonna be that much of a challenge.
[ He's still working for it, anyway--his gaze warm, moving a step forward, and then another, closing in on Tseng's space. He'll get backed into the elevator further, or he won't; he'll get pressed to the corner, or he won't. ]
You're already happy to see me.
[ A playful lift of a brow--as though ready for those implications to be tartly refused, or for Tseng to chuckle again. Either way would be a win, in his mind. ]
[ the pressure of zack's body against his, pushing him back into the corner of the elevator, is one that tseng could easily sidestep if he wanted to—because zack, of all people, understands how little a turk likes to be cornered. because it's zack, because he understands, tseng lets himself be cornered all the same and finds he doesn't even mind it. zack's hand is warm at the small of tseng's back, and his grin is familiar and a little cocky; his fingertips drum a meaningless rhythm on tseng's spine and tseng finds himself counting the beats. ]
I'm trying to play hard to get, Zack Fair. [ again, the amusement in the corners of his mouth, a little light in his eyes. he's fighting not to smile—like he said, zack has to work for it.
since they're pressed so closely together, tseng does bring both hands up to cup zack's face, slim fingers pressed along the sharp line of his jaw and just under his ears, holding him close. it contradicts what he said about playing hard to get, maybe, but tseng has always been a man of multitudes and he hopes zack will forgive him for it.
his traitorous mouth opens, and tseng says, ] I did miss you.
[ four years. tseng's hair is longer, his smile is tighter, his regrets are far, far heavier—but seeing zack here, alive and well like this, lightens them at least fractionally. ]
[ And that's something he's never managed to understand--maybe it's the eagerness of his nature, the determination of his personality, or maybe it's the fact that he's always been one mission away from death, one mission away from never coming back again, and now, trapped here, one moment away from facing death again. The Turks work just as dangerously, but somehow he's always thought of them as lucky: he's seen far less of them never come back again, but maybe that's because he's seen far less of them than he has his own SOLDIER ranks. He's never played hard to get: and he wonders if it's worth it.
There are things he should have said, back then. Things he should have said to Aerith, to Tseng--things he should have admitted to, that he never admitted to. Even with wearing his heart on his sleeve, he still managed to mess those things up.
So he doesn't mind, when Tseng's hands come in against his face; they're dangerous hands, hands that could easily slide down and pin their fingers around his throat, but he knows he won't do it. Not here, not like this. They're hands that hold him there like he's studying his face, remembering it--or perhaps memorizing it for later.
With an easy grin: ] How much?
[ It's a tease; his palm flattens, firm and solid against Tseng's lower back. ]
I always wanted to know what you thought of me. Or if you even thought of me at all.
[ how much of this is a show? how much for the benefit of the painting still watching them, and how much for no one but each other? they're framing it like a performance, but it feels raw nonetheless, like reaching the top of the stairs and thinking there's one more step, the breathless jolting sensation of the void. tseng is being too honest. he should close his mouth and pretend otherwise, because to have attachments is to have weaknesses, and if nothing else, the last four years have taught him that his weaknesses can easily be his downfall.
and yet: zack's palm flattens against his lower back and tseng feels himself relax into it, fractionally. another betrayal, this time by his body, too long touch-starved and unfamiliar with what it means to be touched intimately.
and yet: his smile fades into something softer and more complicated, and tseng says, ] More than you know.
[ there are things he should have said, back then, and things he still can't say, not even to the walking miracle of zack fair in the flesh. words that crawl up tseng's throat and sit there under his tongue. (he thinks, wildly, that maybe they could be kissed out.) ]
You know what I think of you. [ or does he? at the time, they were always so careful not to call each other friends. the risks of their jobs made it hard to form connections, because the more deeply you cared the more deeply it hurt when one of them left and didn't come back. and now, now... tseng betrayed zack. on orders, yes, and he's a good turk, but it was a betrayal nonetheless. to call zack his friend now feels like an honor he hasn't earned.
tseng's thumbs brush over the high rise of zack's cheekbones, and then he shifts one hand to thumb over the swell of his lower lip instead.
what he wants to say is not a day has gone by since nibelheim that i haven't thought of you. what he says is, ] You're a hard man not to think about.
[ It's always been like this: always been the complicated tangle of emotions, worn into the thread of Tseng's words, that he's never been able to figure out. Sometimes he thinks he's caught the end of the ball of yarn, ready to unravel it only to find it knotted and impossible to pass. Sometimes he's content to let it all blanket him, as if someday the words will soak through his skin enough, like the mako singing in his veins, and give him some sudden moment of clarity. Sometimes he thinks that he really is too stupid for someone like Tseng: too much of a country boy at heart, too simple-minded, not complex or interesting enough for Tseng to bother with.
He doesn't argue, doesn't try to wheedle more out of him, doesn't try to pull further to see if he'll unravel. It wouldn't be fair to ask that of him, not after everything that's happened between them; not after Nibelheim, not after the mansion, not after everything that forced distance between them. It's not as though he can fault Tseng for what he did: and it hadn't been him, there, pulling the trigger, either. But he doesn't know how he feels about it all, doesn't know how to feel about a person who would stand by the ironclad rules of a company that would rather wipe out its mistakes by bloodshed and fire--doesn't know if Tseng took care of Aerith, or simply watched her for the company's sake.
He doesn't know, and Tseng's words don't tell him, and maybe he's not meant to know. Maybe it would make it harder if he did know, when Tseng's thumb pads over his lower lip and his mouth parts with breath. Who is he betraying here, himself? Anyone? ]
If I'm here, if I stay here-- [ He doesn't know what this place is, really, doesn't know why he's been called here, or how his body's intact, here. ] --will you still think of me?
[ He doesn't know if that question is easier or harder than the last. But his lips curve, a faint smile: the permission for Tseng to be honest, to tell him what he wants to, whether it hurts or not. ]
[ is there a world in which zack can be alive, not only alive but living in the same building as tseng, and tseng doesn't think about him all the time? maybe, but it's not this one. ]
Will you want me to? [ he can read the curve of zack's smile and knows that he expects honesty, only tseng is sure that the honesty zack expects to hear is something like maybe sometimes, like once in a while.
zack doesn't have to be dead for tseng to think about him, though. zack is dead, and tseng thinks about him; the two things are unconnected. if anything, it's likely zack who won't have cause to think of tseng. aerith is here, after all. maybe cloud is too. what reason would zack have to care about tseng at all? ]
Because I will, every day.
[ a question: if something hurts, does that make it true? if something is true, does it always hurt? will hearing the truth hurt zack, even if the truth is that tseng will think of him often, and fondly, and won't know what to do with that? ]
[ He should expect the question--or at least some kind of question, because Tseng is always like that, always answering things without answering them. A breath escapes, playful and exasperated, but he's not upset, and he's not mad, and he's not bruised by the truth that hides behind the question, the truth that bleeds through the words after. His hand slides, until it draws back, away from him: somehow it feels wrong to be so close there, when he has serious things to think about.
So he hooks his arms in against his own chest--but he doesn't step back. The folds of his elbows nearly bump in against Tseng's chest as he considers it, gaze rolling towards the ceiling of the elevator, towards the wall, towards somewhere in the distance. ]
Is that gonna be a burden, for you?
[ --is what he finally lands on, his gaze swinging, mako-bright and curious about the lines of Tseng's expression that he can't read. ]
If you need me to forgive you, I can forgive you. If you need me to absolve you of something, I think I can do that, too.
But I don't wanna just be the guy you think about because you want to think about...someone else, instead, and feel bad about it in the meantime.
[ it feels, somehow, like having made the wrong choice. zack's arms withdraw from around his waist, and tseng feels oddly bereft without them, as though in only a matter of minutes he had grown so used to their presence that the absence is cold. the only reassurance is that zack doesn't step away. tseng brings his hands up to rest briefly against his biceps, just above those elbows, and then lets them fall away in case the touch isn't welcome.
you want to think about someone else and feel bad about it in the meantime is such an unexpected sentence that it makes tseng blink, just once, before a furrow of real confusion appears between his brows. ]
Not a burden, no. [ that's the easy answer. ] If you forgive me, it should be because you want to, not because I ask for it.
[ whether or not zack chooses to forgive him is entirely up to zack. tseng knows better than anyone that he has no right to ask for it; forgiveness is the kind of thing that has to be given freely, or else what does it become? another favor that tseng doesn't deserve.
he leans back against the elevator wall, a fractional softening of his posture, and for a moment he just looks at zack. it's a measured look, but with a note of honesty in it that very few people ever get to see from him. it wasn't that long ago that tseng's heart was softer. he wonders if he'll ever know how that feels, again. ]
You misunderstand. I think of you because you're you, [ because you're the closest thing i've ever had to a friend, because in the sealed-off parts of me i still care about you deeply, ] not because I want to be thinking of someone else.
[ zack's turn to be honest, now. ]
It only has to be your problem insofar as you want it to be. If what you want is to leave this elevator and never see me again, all you have to do is say so.
[ It's soft: gentle, in a way, as though he doesn't want Tseng to think that he's brushing off the severity of the words, or the seriousness embedded within them. Rather, he appreciates and understands that it's his choice--he can forgive him, or not, he can ask Tseng to stay away from him, or not. It's his choice to make, and while he doesn't know how much he can trust Tseng's loyalty, especially when it comes to Shinra itself, he does know that Tseng is the kind of man who will respect a decision when it's made. He won't fight him on it, or disrespect him by ignoring it.
Somehow, that makes the idea harder. But then it's always been easy, hasn't it? Lying there, soaked in the rain, the mud, his own blood, and Cloud's tears--he hadn't been thinking of who to blame, who to get revenge on, who he would charge with the burden of his death. He'd been thinking about Cloud, and Aerith, and Angeal, and being a hero, being someone that had existed, being someone that had been worth something. And he'd already decided, there-- ]
I forgive you. [ There's a smile, easy enough, on his features as he says it. ] And I'm not gonna ask you to never see me again, or anything like that.
[ But he does take a small step away, a lift of a brow, almost teasing. ]
But hey, let's make a deal, yeah? If you think of me, tell me. Feels like... Something I wanna know, when it happens.
[ it would be a lie to pretend that tseng hasn't at least once imagined something like this. seeing zack again, speaking to him—a second chance, the kind of miracle that the lifestream just doesn't grant. in all of his imaginings, tseng is more or less honest with zack; in none of his imaginings does zack ever forgive him.
the sound of the words sends a shock through him, made more intense by the fact that tseng knows they're true. he draws in a sharp breath, turns his face away on instinct before he forces himself to look back at zack, to really take him in: the scar on his jaw, the mako green of his eyes, the fall of his hair over his features. the teasing lift of his brow and that familiar grin on his mouth.
in a great karmic reckoning tseng already knows he can never truly be absolved. the sins on his hands are too heavy to be weighed against whatever little good he's done. but to be forgiven this one thing, this one sin, the heaviest among them—it makes tseng breathe a little easier. ]
Deal. [ he offers a hand to shake on it, gentleman's agreement although neither of them are really gentlemen. the painting on the wall bursts into a flurry of whispers and tseng ignores them wholesale. ] No take-backs, no matter how many messages I send.
[ there's a pause, and then tseng smiles. it's... hesitant, almost, like he has to remember how to do it, but it's genuine all the same. ]
[ It's agreed over the hand that he juts out to take Tseng's in his own--a firm handshake, not quite crushing, but not quite relenting that hint of SOLDIER strength, either. Tseng's hands have never been gentle, but he's always marveled about how delicate they can look, outside of their usual gloves; his own hands are forever rough, calloused and sure, but he likes feeling Tseng's fingers gripped within them. One shake, which the painting seems to grouse about--and then another, dragging Tseng in slightly for a half-hug.
His free arm goes around his shoulders, chin hooked over one, and it's a little quick, a little messy, a little crowded thanks to the off-balance rock of his weight to pivot himself forward. But it's honest, and it's warm, and he knows that in the end, it doesn't necessarily matter what he says. He can forgive Tseng wholly, forgive Tseng in his heart of hearts, but Tseng has to learn how to forgive himself, too--and that's something he doesn't get to decide, something he doesn't get to do.
With a playful clap on the back, he moves back again, dropping his hands away. ]
Yeah, no take-backs. But at least try to like, not flood my inbox all at once? Dunno what the limit is on these guys.
[ A cheeky grin, as he lifts his hand to wriggle his watch in indication. ]
Alright, that's the flirting taken care of, right? [ Hands on his hips, he turns to offer a playful glare to the painting. ] Right?!
[ whether the half-hug mollifies the painting is anyone's best guess, but it mollifies tseng at least. he makes a noise not unlike amusement and lets himself be pulled forward, wrapping his own arm around zack's shoulders and patting his back a couple of times. it's just about as affectionate as he gets—zack has really seen a lot more of him in these last twenty minutes than some people see of him in a lifetime. ]
Should have added that to your conditions upfront, [ he says when they part. there's a half-smile on his face that suggests he's not being entirely serious. ] Don't you know it's poor form to amend a contract after it's been made?
[ i'll flood your inbox if i want to, is what tseng is saying—although they both know he won't. but the messages will come, eventually, even if he needs a little while to readjust to the notion of zack being someone he can just... text.
with his own arms crossed over his chest, he straightens up and gives the painting a significant look, one eyebrow lifted, bad cop to zack's good cop. ] Speaking of contracts, I believe we've fulfilled the letter of yours.
[ and although they don't look entirely thrilled about it, after a moment, the elevator shudders back into motion, bearing them up and away. ]
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peacockstop2024-02-10 11:29 am
elevators, semi-wildcard so you can decide which elevator u want ;)
he isn't used to seeing ghosts, but here one seems to be, standing right in front of him. zack fair, in the flesh, looking up at the painting hung on the elevator's wall like this is just an ordinary monday in midgar, like it hasn't been mere months since he was confirmed dead in the hinterlands outside the city, gunned down where he stood by shinra troops.
tseng has 88 letters, back home. he promised he would deliver them and had resigned himself to never having the chance; now he has the chance, but doesn't have the letters. funny how things work out.
what do you even say to a ghost? ]
This is quite a reunion. [ that, apparently. despite being dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a far cry from his usual turk blacks, tseng's posture is the same as always, his hands tucked behind his back as he regards zack and a faint smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
maybe he's losing it, or maybe he's entering his second career as a medium. maybe this is a cruel trick played by the house, trying to get inside his head. whatever it is, tseng has already let too many chances slip through his fingers. ]
Not that you need encouragement not to back down from a challenge...
teasing trio it is!
In the end, it's Tseng that he had been afraid of. The line between the company and his loyalty, the line between his dubious morals and his bottom line: the Turks had been after them, of course, and he had expected as much, but he hadn't expected the thought to hurt so much. If it had been Tseng there, watching him haul Cloud's comatose body out of another safe house, another ditch--if it had been Tseng there, seeing him forced to scavenge for food like they're back in the boonies--would he have taken pity on him? Or would he support the savage boundary that Shinra created? Would their friendship have mattered?
Did he take care of Aerith? He trusted him to do that much--and honestly, in some ways, he wouldn't have begrudged him for anything else. It's not like he's angry, not like he resents him, not like he holds him responsible for the whole of the Shinra company, and Hojo, and everything else.
But it does twist something in him, hearing that voice. When he turns to address him, it's with his usual lopsided grin, carefree and soft; he jerks a hand in indication at the painting, pointing it out with his thumb. ]
Get a load of this, Tseng. [ If he pretends hard enough, can they go back? Can it be like it used to be? Would Tseng like that? Would he let it happen? ] They want something sweet from us. Flirting.
[ His grin broadening, he folds his arms in against his chest. ]
You're not gonna back down either, right? That's what I always liked about you.
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it's for that reason that the shape of zack's grin, carefree and familiar, sticks like a knife in between his ribs. the pause was just a second too long for tseng to believe it, and he knows zack (or thinks he knows zack) well enough to know when he's playacting.
but it's such a beautiful little play, isn't it? this illusion of the idea that things could be normal. that they could go back to how things were before—before genesis and angeal, before sephiroth, before zack's blood in the dirt, before sector seven was little more than a pit of burning rubble under midgar. tseng has never been good at pretending, but right now he wants to.
he smiles, faintly. just a little, a quirk at the corners of his mouth. of all the people tseng has worked with, zack has probably seen him smile the most; it seems right, that zack should see him smile in return, now. ]
I'm not sure flirting is in my repertoire. [ his tone is light, casual. just like it would have been, five or six years ago. he isn't sure if zack's carefree smile is an olive branch or a mask to hide a knife behind, but he also isn't sure it matters. ] Are you sure you want me to take the lead on this?
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[ Relaxed, his arms fall down out of their fold--he takes to palms on his hips, a small, short pace in front of the painting, considering their options. ]
You've always had a way with words. Flirting's kind the same thing, isn't it?
[ Truthfully, the idea of Tseng actually flirting with anyone is enough to make him laugh; it's not that he doesn't see him as someone attractive, and not even that he doesn't think there would be plenty of people more than willing to be the recipient. But who would be the type of person that Tseng would be willing to flirt with, or even entertain for that kind of attention? Probably not some low paid First Class SOLDIER, but that's okay: they're friends. Were friends. Are friends.
Tseng is smiling, but the smile hurts, a little. It's tighter than it used to be: so things happened, after all that. At least he made it out of things safe himself.
With another soft pace, he turns, a step forward to bring himself right in front of Tseng; glancing down at him, he's all bright eyes and a bright smile, one hand lifting from his hip to give it a gentle, soft ghost through the strands of Tseng's long hair, shifting it off his shoulder. ]
You grew it out. It's pretty, like this. [ Is that flirting? One brow lifts, as if to say come on, let's play. ]
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zack lifts a hand to run his fingers through tseng’s hair. is it noticeably longer than it was the last they saw each other? or is this just zack’s way of starting something, a conversation opener? tseng sees that glint in his eye, the encouragement to meet him in the middle, and he swallows back his uncertainty to respond in kind. ]
Are you saying I wasn’t pretty before? [ an eyebrow lifts, but there’s amusement tucked into the corners of tseng’s lips as he replies. as if to take the sting out, he brings a hand up to wrap his fingers loosely around zack’s wrist, thumb against his pulse, the touch gentle. ] I’m heartbroken, Zack Fair.
[ it feels strange, to be doing this. strange, but… not bad, not exactly. just a little outside tseng’s usual skillset. ]
You look the same as always. [ that part is true. ] Handsome. [ that part is true too.
tseng holds his tongue against the temptation to add, i missed you. that might be a third true thing, but this isn’t the moment to say it aloud. ]
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Rather than let himself be brushed off, or encouraged away, he lays that palm flat on Tseng's shoulder--it's comical, in a way, as though he'll take him up around the waist with his other arm and guide him into a dance or something equally ridiculous. Perhaps it's more that Tseng wanted to check the steady beat of his pulse against his skin; perhaps this is the sort of place where he could have easily ended up undead. ]
Nah. [ There's a warm smile on his lips, a faint shake of his head. ] You were always pretty. But everyone knew that. You didn't hear it all the time?
[ The smile turns a little lopsided; his hand moves, curving over Tseng's shoulder down along his back, fingers lost underneath the shadow of his hair.
A part of him wants to ask is this how you remember me but he doesn't want to drag the conversation away from their mission. ]
Am I the kind of handsome that can fix your broken heart? I'll do whatever it takes.
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the question earns a laugh-snort, one that tseng tries and fails to hide into an inelegant cough. that had been true, once—that zack was one of the few people who could always make tseng laugh. ]
I didn’t. Most people wouldn’t dare. [ tseng has no commentary on his own prettiness, but he can guess that many people working in hq were too afraid of him to provide any kind of commentary on his looks. tseng wasn’t exactly known for being approachable. ] But you’ve never been most people, have you?
[ the way zack’s hand moves over the curve of his shoulder, over his shoulderblade and down his spine sends a shiver running up the other way. it’s so rare that anyone touches tseng without meaning him harm; he feels almost starved for it, a brief flash of hunger in his expression before he schools it away into something warmer, more affectionate. ]
Mm. [ he tilts his head, considering. studies zack’s face, the familiar lines of his nose, the curve of his mouth. the women in the painting titter faintly, but tseng is hardly paying them attention anymore. ] I might make you work for it a little. Do you think you’re up for the challenge?
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[ There's a dramatic rise and fall to his shoulders, a breath stolen out of his chest as though tinged with playful exhaustion--but this is how it's always been, right? He's always been chasing at Tseng's heels, throwing himself right into the fray only to be left a few steps behind all the same. It's one of the infuriatingly wonderful things about Tseng: he sets the bar fluidly, carefully, and every time he meets it, he finds it's moved another few inches. For others, that might be frustrating, but he likes the challenge; it's a good use of his boundless energy.
Still, he isn't so practiced at hiding his own emotions; they bleed out of him all the same, through the grin that he can't restrain and the hand that drums, thoughtfully, against the middle of Tseng's back. He doesn't mind the offer in the slightest. ]
Come on, you know it's not really gonna be that much of a challenge.
[ He's still working for it, anyway--his gaze warm, moving a step forward, and then another, closing in on Tseng's space. He'll get backed into the elevator further, or he won't; he'll get pressed to the corner, or he won't. ]
You're already happy to see me.
[ A playful lift of a brow--as though ready for those implications to be tartly refused, or for Tseng to chuckle again. Either way would be a win, in his mind. ]
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I'm trying to play hard to get, Zack Fair. [ again, the amusement in the corners of his mouth, a little light in his eyes. he's fighting not to smile—like he said, zack has to work for it.
since they're pressed so closely together, tseng does bring both hands up to cup zack's face, slim fingers pressed along the sharp line of his jaw and just under his ears, holding him close. it contradicts what he said about playing hard to get, maybe, but tseng has always been a man of multitudes and he hopes zack will forgive him for it.
his traitorous mouth opens, and tseng says, ] I did miss you.
[ four years. tseng's hair is longer, his smile is tighter, his regrets are far, far heavier—but seeing zack here, alive and well like this, lightens them at least fractionally. ]
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There are things he should have said, back then. Things he should have said to Aerith, to Tseng--things he should have admitted to, that he never admitted to. Even with wearing his heart on his sleeve, he still managed to mess those things up.
So he doesn't mind, when Tseng's hands come in against his face; they're dangerous hands, hands that could easily slide down and pin their fingers around his throat, but he knows he won't do it. Not here, not like this. They're hands that hold him there like he's studying his face, remembering it--or perhaps memorizing it for later.
With an easy grin: ] How much?
[ It's a tease; his palm flattens, firm and solid against Tseng's lower back. ]
I always wanted to know what you thought of me. Or if you even thought of me at all.
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and yet: zack's palm flattens against his lower back and tseng feels himself relax into it, fractionally. another betrayal, this time by his body, too long touch-starved and unfamiliar with what it means to be touched intimately.
and yet: his smile fades into something softer and more complicated, and tseng says, ] More than you know.
[ there are things he should have said, back then, and things he still can't say, not even to the walking miracle of zack fair in the flesh. words that crawl up tseng's throat and sit there under his tongue. (he thinks, wildly, that maybe they could be kissed out.) ]
You know what I think of you. [ or does he? at the time, they were always so careful not to call each other friends. the risks of their jobs made it hard to form connections, because the more deeply you cared the more deeply it hurt when one of them left and didn't come back. and now, now... tseng betrayed zack. on orders, yes, and he's a good turk, but it was a betrayal nonetheless. to call zack his friend now feels like an honor he hasn't earned.
tseng's thumbs brush over the high rise of zack's cheekbones, and then he shifts one hand to thumb over the swell of his lower lip instead.
what he wants to say is not a day has gone by since nibelheim that i haven't thought of you. what he says is, ] You're a hard man not to think about.
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He doesn't argue, doesn't try to wheedle more out of him, doesn't try to pull further to see if he'll unravel. It wouldn't be fair to ask that of him, not after everything that's happened between them; not after Nibelheim, not after the mansion, not after everything that forced distance between them. It's not as though he can fault Tseng for what he did: and it hadn't been him, there, pulling the trigger, either. But he doesn't know how he feels about it all, doesn't know how to feel about a person who would stand by the ironclad rules of a company that would rather wipe out its mistakes by bloodshed and fire--doesn't know if Tseng took care of Aerith, or simply watched her for the company's sake.
He doesn't know, and Tseng's words don't tell him, and maybe he's not meant to know. Maybe it would make it harder if he did know, when Tseng's thumb pads over his lower lip and his mouth parts with breath. Who is he betraying here, himself? Anyone? ]
If I'm here, if I stay here-- [ He doesn't know what this place is, really, doesn't know why he's been called here, or how his body's intact, here. ] --will you still think of me?
[ He doesn't know if that question is easier or harder than the last. But his lips curve, a faint smile: the permission for Tseng to be honest, to tell him what he wants to, whether it hurts or not. ]
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Will you want me to? [ he can read the curve of zack's smile and knows that he expects honesty, only tseng is sure that the honesty zack expects to hear is something like maybe sometimes, like once in a while.
zack doesn't have to be dead for tseng to think about him, though. zack is dead, and tseng thinks about him; the two things are unconnected. if anything, it's likely zack who won't have cause to think of tseng. aerith is here, after all. maybe cloud is too. what reason would zack have to care about tseng at all? ]
Because I will, every day.
[ a question: if something hurts, does that make it true? if something is true, does it always hurt? will hearing the truth hurt zack, even if the truth is that tseng will think of him often, and fondly, and won't know what to do with that? ]
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So he hooks his arms in against his own chest--but he doesn't step back. The folds of his elbows nearly bump in against Tseng's chest as he considers it, gaze rolling towards the ceiling of the elevator, towards the wall, towards somewhere in the distance. ]
Is that gonna be a burden, for you?
[ --is what he finally lands on, his gaze swinging, mako-bright and curious about the lines of Tseng's expression that he can't read. ]
If you need me to forgive you, I can forgive you. If you need me to absolve you of something, I think I can do that, too.
But I don't wanna just be the guy you think about because you want to think about...someone else, instead, and feel bad about it in the meantime.
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you want to think about someone else and feel bad about it in the meantime is such an unexpected sentence that it makes tseng blink, just once, before a furrow of real confusion appears between his brows. ]
Not a burden, no. [ that's the easy answer. ] If you forgive me, it should be because you want to, not because I ask for it.
[ whether or not zack chooses to forgive him is entirely up to zack. tseng knows better than anyone that he has no right to ask for it; forgiveness is the kind of thing that has to be given freely, or else what does it become? another favor that tseng doesn't deserve.
he leans back against the elevator wall, a fractional softening of his posture, and for a moment he just looks at zack. it's a measured look, but with a note of honesty in it that very few people ever get to see from him. it wasn't that long ago that tseng's heart was softer. he wonders if he'll ever know how that feels, again. ]
You misunderstand. I think of you because you're you, [ because you're the closest thing i've ever had to a friend, because in the sealed-off parts of me i still care about you deeply, ] not because I want to be thinking of someone else.
[ zack's turn to be honest, now. ]
It only has to be your problem insofar as you want it to be. If what you want is to leave this elevator and never see me again, all you have to do is say so.
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[ It's soft: gentle, in a way, as though he doesn't want Tseng to think that he's brushing off the severity of the words, or the seriousness embedded within them. Rather, he appreciates and understands that it's his choice--he can forgive him, or not, he can ask Tseng to stay away from him, or not. It's his choice to make, and while he doesn't know how much he can trust Tseng's loyalty, especially when it comes to Shinra itself, he does know that Tseng is the kind of man who will respect a decision when it's made. He won't fight him on it, or disrespect him by ignoring it.
Somehow, that makes the idea harder. But then it's always been easy, hasn't it? Lying there, soaked in the rain, the mud, his own blood, and Cloud's tears--he hadn't been thinking of who to blame, who to get revenge on, who he would charge with the burden of his death. He'd been thinking about Cloud, and Aerith, and Angeal, and being a hero, being someone that had existed, being someone that had been worth something. And he'd already decided, there-- ]
I forgive you. [ There's a smile, easy enough, on his features as he says it. ] And I'm not gonna ask you to never see me again, or anything like that.
[ But he does take a small step away, a lift of a brow, almost teasing. ]
But hey, let's make a deal, yeah? If you think of me, tell me. Feels like... Something I wanna know, when it happens.
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the sound of the words sends a shock through him, made more intense by the fact that tseng knows they're true. he draws in a sharp breath, turns his face away on instinct before he forces himself to look back at zack, to really take him in: the scar on his jaw, the mako green of his eyes, the fall of his hair over his features. the teasing lift of his brow and that familiar grin on his mouth.
in a great karmic reckoning tseng already knows he can never truly be absolved. the sins on his hands are too heavy to be weighed against whatever little good he's done. but to be forgiven this one thing, this one sin, the heaviest among them—it makes tseng breathe a little easier. ]
Deal. [ he offers a hand to shake on it, gentleman's agreement although neither of them are really gentlemen. the painting on the wall bursts into a flurry of whispers and tseng ignores them wholesale. ] No take-backs, no matter how many messages I send.
[ there's a pause, and then tseng smiles. it's... hesitant, almost, like he has to remember how to do it, but it's genuine all the same. ]
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[ It's agreed over the hand that he juts out to take Tseng's in his own--a firm handshake, not quite crushing, but not quite relenting that hint of SOLDIER strength, either. Tseng's hands have never been gentle, but he's always marveled about how delicate they can look, outside of their usual gloves; his own hands are forever rough, calloused and sure, but he likes feeling Tseng's fingers gripped within them. One shake, which the painting seems to grouse about--and then another, dragging Tseng in slightly for a half-hug.
His free arm goes around his shoulders, chin hooked over one, and it's a little quick, a little messy, a little crowded thanks to the off-balance rock of his weight to pivot himself forward. But it's honest, and it's warm, and he knows that in the end, it doesn't necessarily matter what he says. He can forgive Tseng wholly, forgive Tseng in his heart of hearts, but Tseng has to learn how to forgive himself, too--and that's something he doesn't get to decide, something he doesn't get to do.
With a playful clap on the back, he moves back again, dropping his hands away. ]
Yeah, no take-backs. But at least try to like, not flood my inbox all at once? Dunno what the limit is on these guys.
[ A cheeky grin, as he lifts his hand to wriggle his watch in indication. ]
Alright, that's the flirting taken care of, right? [ Hands on his hips, he turns to offer a playful glare to the painting. ] Right?!
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Should have added that to your conditions upfront, [ he says when they part. there's a half-smile on his face that suggests he's not being entirely serious. ] Don't you know it's poor form to amend a contract after it's been made?
[ i'll flood your inbox if i want to, is what tseng is saying—although they both know he won't. but the messages will come, eventually, even if he needs a little while to readjust to the notion of zack being someone he can just... text.
with his own arms crossed over his chest, he straightens up and gives the painting a significant look, one eyebrow lifted, bad cop to zack's good cop. ] Speaking of contracts, I believe we've fulfilled the letter of yours.
[ and although they don't look entirely thrilled about it, after a moment, the elevator shudders back into motion, bearing them up and away. ]