cloud strife (
makopoison) wrote in
neopoints2020-05-03 12:58 am
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here at the honeybee inn. / open
[ they tell him he won't make soldier. no amount of training can fix a weakness of the soul. the mako doesn't agree with him - he's bedridden for three days after the initial test, and upon discharge, told he'll nnot be allowed to apply again. on the very same day he'd tendered his resignation, apologizing to his squadmates for letting them down, and left a message to the turk who had helped him on the trains as well as zack fair, thanking them for their belief in him, however ill-placed.
he was left with no choice but to improvise. there was nothing to return home to in nibelheim, no reason to quietly endure further ridicule and a lifetime of being ostracized, but no way he could live on the plate with the sky-high rent and the soul-sucking jobs requiring more skill than country boy can provide. he isn't the first SOLDIER washout to be too ashamed to go home, and he knows he won't be the last. the slums are full of them. he'd found himself lost, wandering lost in the shadow of the plate. sector five was bright and flashy but he wasn't equipped to deal with pickpockets and gangs. the better part of the day was spent utterly terrified, certain he was going to die here tonight and no one would ever know because he'd been too damn stupid to tell them his plans.
don corneo's men saw an easy mark for the coliseum. promising big money and a place to sleep - but a hand on his shoulder, a whisper in his ear, i could make you a star, darling - offered him something better.
andrea rhodea had smiled so charmingly and with such faith he'd decided he was in before he even heard the offer.
( they'd suggested claudia for his stagename, not knowing it was his mothers. he'd balked, almost shouting no, because while the rhinestones and glitter were rapidly becoming just another part of his world - he couldn't imagine the humiliation of anyone he knew knowing this. shame had consumed so much of his life, dictated so much of what he enjoyed - he refused to let it ruin this too. )
so cirrus was born. and cirrus was a fucking hit.
and he hadn't been lying. cloud's androgynous features were a smash with the customer-base. he was a quick learner, a hell of a dancer, and not too bad of a fighter. he was a star - and it came with glitz, and glamour, and gil, but no glory.
the usual showstopper was done for the night. cloud, center-stage, dancing to a flashy new routine in a uniform somewhere between the men's snappy suits and the women's bulky bee costume. he's fanning himself in the changing room, huffing out a breath as he counts down the minutes until the end of his shift, when one of the girls tells him he's been requested for a private show. ]
Seriously? I'm almost off the clock. Can't someone else -
[ it's someone important, she says, shaking her head. classified. you know what that means.
the blonde pulls a face.
don't worry, it doesn't look like an exec. she adds hastily. but you better move.
he sighs. turns back to the mirror to wipe away any evidence of exertion and heads for the room. ]
he was left with no choice but to improvise. there was nothing to return home to in nibelheim, no reason to quietly endure further ridicule and a lifetime of being ostracized, but no way he could live on the plate with the sky-high rent and the soul-sucking jobs requiring more skill than country boy can provide. he isn't the first SOLDIER washout to be too ashamed to go home, and he knows he won't be the last. the slums are full of them. he'd found himself lost, wandering lost in the shadow of the plate. sector five was bright and flashy but he wasn't equipped to deal with pickpockets and gangs. the better part of the day was spent utterly terrified, certain he was going to die here tonight and no one would ever know because he'd been too damn stupid to tell them his plans.
don corneo's men saw an easy mark for the coliseum. promising big money and a place to sleep - but a hand on his shoulder, a whisper in his ear, i could make you a star, darling - offered him something better.
andrea rhodea had smiled so charmingly and with such faith he'd decided he was in before he even heard the offer.
( they'd suggested claudia for his stagename, not knowing it was his mothers. he'd balked, almost shouting no, because while the rhinestones and glitter were rapidly becoming just another part of his world - he couldn't imagine the humiliation of anyone he knew knowing this. shame had consumed so much of his life, dictated so much of what he enjoyed - he refused to let it ruin this too. )
so cirrus was born. and cirrus was a fucking hit.
and he hadn't been lying. cloud's androgynous features were a smash with the customer-base. he was a quick learner, a hell of a dancer, and not too bad of a fighter. he was a star - and it came with glitz, and glamour, and gil, but no glory.
the usual showstopper was done for the night. cloud, center-stage, dancing to a flashy new routine in a uniform somewhere between the men's snappy suits and the women's bulky bee costume. he's fanning himself in the changing room, huffing out a breath as he counts down the minutes until the end of his shift, when one of the girls tells him he's been requested for a private show. ]
Seriously? I'm almost off the clock. Can't someone else -
[ it's someone important, she says, shaking her head. classified. you know what that means.
the blonde pulls a face.
don't worry, it doesn't look like an exec. she adds hastily. but you better move.
he sighs. turns back to the mirror to wipe away any evidence of exertion and heads for the room. ]
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[ he seems... so genuine. How the hell is a guy like this working for Shinra? and, moreover, cloud peers curiously at him. ]
I entertained at Director Scarlet's birthday last month. [ he resists the urge to say, you know, her tenth thirtieth. ]
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[Reeve can't resist the joke, because honestly, it was a common one in his department. And the man was definitely talking to him in a comfortable enough, or close enough to comfortable way, for Reeve to be a bit honest. Which is strange. And something he moves past it.]
As I said, I'm not really allowed. The company line is 'for my safety.' I was even escorted here by a pair of Turks.
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That's understandable. The slums are a dangerous place for anyone with real wealth... and no offense, but you look like an easy target.
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[Oh dear, what an incorrect expectation of him. Reeve chuckles and shakes his head, fingers running through his hair.]
Yes. Perhaps I have wealth. Mostly I have privilege. I have employment. I have a comfortable home [that he rarely sees which makes it even more of a privilege], and I can feed myself. But wealth? Not as much.
[Enough that he can pay Cloud and this place for the stupidity.]
But there are reasons I'm not allowed down here, and it's as much for my safety because people are upset as because they imagine I'd make a fool of himself.
[Reno and Rude had absolutely had to make sure Reeve didn't give money to everyone he passed.]
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[ stop, dumbass, don't mouth off. ]
What you have is considered 'wealth' down here. The people of the slums live paycheck to paycheck and by relying on others. Either by their kindness and willingness to lend a hand, or their weakness in the face of a threat... if you give an inch here, people will take miles.
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[Of everyone in the company, Reeve's the one that doesn't mind the mouthing off. In fact, he nods along with Cloud's point. He absolutely believes it.]
I'd give miles, if I was allowed. That's my job. To make sure the people have. Unfortunately...
[Well, there are people above him, and they don't quite agree. At all.]
And then there are moments like this. When I'm sent here. By people who think I need this to be more like them.
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[ he crosses his legs. ]
Just not in the way they think.
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Yes, the whole 'relieving of stress' you implied. Or did you mean another thing. That I'm too full of myself? Too self important?
[Please, tell him, there will be no repercussions his tone seems to say.]
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You walked in here feeling sorry for me, making decisions about what I want before you even spoke to me.
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Well then. Be honest, Cirrus. Do you wish to sleep with me? Or any Shinra Executive for that matter? I can't imagine you would want to. Scarlet is... rough on those she feels she has power over. Heidegger is crass and bloody minded. Palmer is... Palmer. Hojo, I do not believe, would ever come down here save for things I dare not contemplate. The President...
[The man's ego and hunger for power could not translate well to the experiences of those around him.]
And myself? I am hardly a catch, coming in here awkwardly and only starting to develop more confidence as I feel the warmth of the wine in my blood.
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You? Yeah. So long as you aren't secretly into something really weird and messed up. The rest of them I'd rather not see again... but it's my job. It provides for me and gives me money to send back to my family. I take the good with the bad.
[ reaching out to trail a hand down his bicep. work with him here, you awkward nerd. ]
And this could be really good.
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S-surely you're being paid no matter what I chose to do with the limited time I have in your beautiful but unexpected company.
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I already said you're calling the shots. You just asked what I wanted.
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I did, but that wasn't... You're likely doing this because you were told to, correct?
[Please, just give him a lifeline here. Assure him that it's okay that he's not staring. That it's for the best.]
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[ deadpan.
also, basically a lie. but dear god. ]
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You... did not just say that. Please tell me you didn't just say something as horrible as what I just hurt.
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Company policy, word for word. Andrea goes heavy on the metaphors.
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That's a bit of a mess, isn't it? I don't buy the line. This is not what you'd desire, I expect. An awkward man such as myself.
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There are men who'd turn their noses up at sleeping with me, too. Would that stop you from it?
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[If they were different, he'd try to catch the younger man's eye. But as they stood...]
But they are not different. So the question is moot I suppose.
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[ so, like, time to just wait out the clock he guesses? ugh. he wants to go to bed. ]
For what it's worth, Reeve, they probably sent you here to try to act out some dark fantasy. Not to be the perfect gentleman and have a nice night.
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[What? Why would that be a thing?]
But, I'm... I try to be a gentleman.
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And you have been.
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Good. Were i not, my mother would no doubt chew my ear off about it. She'd say that big city life was ruining the country manners she prides herself on.
[But really, what was the point to those manners in so cruel a world as this?]
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