[Zack has... a way of disarming even the gruffest of them. Turks, First Class SOLDIERs, generals-- they're all the same to him. He affords respect where it's due, of course, but he treats everyone he passes like a person. ...To a man who has been treated more like an object than a human being for most of his life, that sort of earnesty has a way of weaseling past even the most fortified of walls.
Perhaps that's what Sephiroth likes about this... whatever this is. It feels human, unbound by the need to remain professional and unaffected despite Tseng's initial attempt to keep it so. He's not normally the type to indulge, but-- he finds the edges of his mind continually wandering back to the previous night, of Tseng bundled contentedly in his arms. Wandering, to the endearing mess of a bun tossed atop Tseng's crown and to the imperceptibly deep eyes boldly now staring him in the eye and--
Well. Here they are.
Tseng isn't backing down, and Sephiroth... can't decide whether he ought to be surprised or not. It doesn't matter much, because-- he's glad, he thinks. Glad that Tseng isn't withdrawing behind the steely veil of indifference. He tries not to think about that too much-- or of how foolish this probably is.
A dangerous game, indeed.]
I see. [His chin tips again-- a little further up to level his gaze with Tseng's.] And do you intend to do anything about it?
[There's nothing ingenuous about the way his mouth curves, edging into a smirk.]
no subject
Perhaps that's what Sephiroth likes about this... whatever this is. It feels human, unbound by the need to remain professional and unaffected despite Tseng's initial attempt to keep it so. He's not normally the type to indulge, but-- he finds the edges of his mind continually wandering back to the previous night, of Tseng bundled contentedly in his arms. Wandering, to the endearing mess of a bun tossed atop Tseng's crown and to the imperceptibly deep eyes boldly now staring him in the eye and--
Well. Here they are.
Tseng isn't backing down, and Sephiroth... can't decide whether he ought to be surprised or not. It doesn't matter much, because-- he's glad, he thinks. Glad that Tseng isn't withdrawing behind the steely veil of indifference. He tries not to think about that too much-- or of how foolish this probably is.
A dangerous game, indeed.]
I see. [His chin tips again-- a little further up to level his gaze with Tseng's.] And do you intend to do anything about it?
[There's nothing ingenuous about the way his mouth curves, edging into a smirk.]
Or is that up to my discretion?