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"From what he told me." Rufus isn't sure he feels all that important sometimes, but he knows that he is. At least, right now he is, to a lot of people who don't know he's even still alive. "According to my father, it was hard to get many of the resources he wanted or needed since he didn't have a name at that time. So he was dauntless in finding help, selling what information he could get and didn't need, and, according to him, practically laying each brick of what would become the ShinRa conglomerate.

"What others say is a little different, of course. Now, here," Rufus stops to indicate a name. "This woman, Alara, you'll want to make sure to get together with her. She's not a powerful woman, but she's capable, compassionate and very well liked. It seems when the Stigma first started to spread, she kept many of those infected despite the fear it was contagious. Still does, I hear. It endeared her to those whose families were stricken with the disease."

"A very good thing to note. Have something to write with?" Reeve asks, because frankly, he's forgotten there is a pen sticking out of the breast pocket of his blazer. He had found Kalm more receptive to a traditional suit than his preferred coat. "Your father also talked a big game."

What he really was responsible for was a bit of a question. Reeve knew personally that a decent number of the Mako Reactor improvements the elder Shinra had claimed to create were actually his own work, something he wouldn't publicize now.

Everything depended on who you asked. Rufus did not doubt his father had some skill in handling a business, he would not have been able to start ShinRa without it, but he also knew the man was an arrogant, egotistical and self-serving bastard. Once had had what he wanted, the little details were left to the peons.

And those who knew him? They would often tell Rufus things behind closed doors, sure the boy wouldn't return to his father with stories of the wrongs the man had done. And he hadn't. Merely filed each and every story away for later use. Things Reeve would have to ask to know.

"I don't, but," Rufus reaches over in response to the question, dragging the pen out from the blazer and waving it in front of Reeve a little. "It seems you forgot you had one."

Oh. Well. Reeve smiles to himself at that. Who would have thought it. He collects the pen and jots down the note.

"I'm sorry," Reeve sighs, shaking his head after he's done so. "I find myself a bit overworked, by my own action of course. Sort of. What I need more than anything is a chance to just once sleep in and know things aren't going to be problems without me there. Maybe get a nice meal, close my day with a nice bourbon, and let someone else take care of things for just a few hours."

Rufus chuckles softly at that, supposing he can understand the sentiment to some extent. He's had his own nights that the Turks have had to tell him to stop and sleep, even while he worries that if he does, the world will collapse around him.

Lately, it isn't so bad of course, since he's stuck in one place and has little to do. And since sometimes the Stigma causes him to pass out, but for Reeve, he can imagine at least.

"Perhaps you would like to stay here the evening. I could go crash in one of the Turks beds below, let you have mine. At the least, you wouldn't have to make the trip home and could get a little extra rest."

"An excuse to get into Tseng's bed one way or another?" Reeve asks, amusement in his tone. Then he shakes his head. "That is kind of you, but I won't put you out of your own space, Rufus. Now, if you want to offer me Reno's bed and tell him to take the couch..."

This time, that is an offer he could accept. Immediately even. Give himself another few hours to freshen himself up before he faces all of this paperwork. Doesn't help the text on the page is a bit blurry.

"Do I need glasses or am I just tired?" Reeve mumbles to himself. He fears the former as well as the latter.

He chuckles gently at the remark about Tseng, before shaking his head a little. "I somehow doubt you want to be in Reno's bed. He'd find some excuse to come back and bother you. Besides, it's early yet, so I could always loan you mine until it's time to sleep and have the Turks move a mattress up for later in the evening? Since you seem unable to fully concentrate."

“Thank you,” Reeve smiles because he hadn’t thought of that. “I only need another hour. Three hours and two cups of coffee usually suffices.”

Rufus would absolutely know by now just how poorly the man treats his body with the demands he places on it.

"Take a few hours." He remarks as he stands, indicating Reeve to go ahead and follow him. "Let me grab a few things from the room, and then the bed is all yours."

“I don’t wish to bank too much on an excessive welcome,” Reeve counters, but he does put the papers down. Here he can rest, still be safe, and still claim it as work. Justify it to himself. Which matters a lot to him.

“Thank you, Rufus.”

"Reeve, you know you need the rest, so take it." His tone is a little firm, a hint of a warning that the man needs to attend his health, even as Rufus is picking up a book he seems to be in the process of reading. "As I said, it isn't like I need the bed for several hours. So there's no inconvenience in it."

The look Reeve gives him is one of relief. He does know where the bed is so he rises and moves to that room. Granted he isn’t certain he trusts Rufus to obey, which means once r is in there he sets himself an alarm on his phone. To be safe. Two hours, so he can steal an extra one if Rufus does not respect his wishes. Which, of course, means he wakes to that alarm two hours later.

Yes, that is considerate, but really?

Still he feels a bit refreshed, and he reenters Rufus’s presence once more, seeming ready to work. He doesn’t even need to metaphorically roll up his sleeves, he has them actually rolled up, his coat still tossed over a chair in Rufus’s room. Even the tie has been ditched and his collar loosened. A far more casual Reeve than had ever intentionally shown the other man.

“You didn’t wake me,” he accuses.

Rufus has taken those few hours to make himself comfortable, settled on the couch under a small throw blanket that is so colorful and full of flowers that Elena probably bought it. Beside him, he has his usual bottle of water, and in his hand is the book he snagged from the room earlier, quite a bit more read than before.

Which would make one think he might be surprised by Reeve coming out, fully enthralled in his book, but the small chuckle shows different. "You knew I wouldn't."

“I am beginning to realize one thing about you, Rufus,” Reeve says as he takes in the look of Rufus with the blanket. Is that perhaps a touch of something along the lines of fondness in his eyes? Perhaps. “And that is that I can trust you tomake sure I take care of myself. Perhaps you’re more wifely than you give yourself credit for.”

Give him a moment to appreciate this sight before he moves to join Rufus. There is so much to do. So much to learn from the man. Not just today. So much to learn before there is no chance. You can never be sure when the Stigma will take someone.

The darkness of that thought catches Reeve off guard. Along with the fact that he realizes now that he would miss the man.

"I'm not wearing a dress." The comment is laid back. almost joking in its tone as it brings back their last meeting, even as he finds his bookmark. "And if there's one thing I've learned the hard way from the Turks, no one takes care of themselves sometimes and others have to take over."

He moves the bottle as he sets the book onto the table, making sure that it doesn't tip as Reeve sits, before catching something; perhaps a flash in Reeve's eyes. "Is something the matter?"

Reeve doesn’t even crack a smile at the dress comment. His mind is on something else.

“You’re dying,” Reeve observes, his voice soft. “You could die during this meeting. Or tomorrow. Or next week.”

And he doesn’t know at this point how he would go on without Rufus’s support. Like it or not he really has come to rely on ge money. No, more than that. The... companionship?

Perhaps that is more accurate.

Any trace of smile he had fades away, replaced with an almost startled look. Half his mind is saying 'you just noticed?', while the other half wonders why it matters enough suddenly for that strange drop in tone.

"I am." Rufus speaks slowly, leaning back into the couch. "We all are, of course, but the Stigma increases the likelihood it will be early. Still, I was told by someone that the more darkness you allow in, the more thoughts that there's nothing ahead for you, the faster the disease will take you."

He lifts his Stigma-stained hand, giving Reeve a small smirk, a self-deprecating one, but also knows what he says is the truth. "I'm not dying anytime soon, though, Reeve. I have very much left to do, and this won't kill me.:

The look Reeve wears is still a sad one. Because no matter what Rufus says, he is not sure he believes it. He has heard nothing along these lines. But if that gives the man comfort he will not argue. Instead he reaches to collect the file again.

“It’s just... perhaps I no longer feel that is a fitting end to you, Rufus. You are staring to make me believe that second chances are wortb pursuing.”

He hadn't heard it because Rufus hadn't released that particular bit of information. Not only was in unconfirmed, but it was also dangerous in a way. People wanted hope, but to be told what he knew - that letting themselves remain positive, despite the fact there was no cure - would not create ease for others.

And there were always those who would take advantage of the information. Promise a god, while taking what little the stricken had. Promise the Land of the Ancients, making sure all worldly possessions went to 'relief efforts' when they passed. Perhaps even convince the Stigma-riddled that the cure was faith, belief and taking the life or property from those who the planet had not attacked.

No, he knew better than to reveal some of the things he'd learned.

What he didn't know, was a very good response, so even has he rests his hand on the blanket covering his lap, he's thinking. Finally responding in a dull tone, as if he's thought about this before.

"I figure if I'm supposed to have that second chance, things will work out so that this will not be the cause of my death."

Well now Reeve smiles softly at Rufus. “Perhaps you can serve as an inspiration to future generations.”

More than that, he finds himself hoping Rufus really can manage it. A free hand comes out to pay Rufus’s leg lightly.

“And while you’re working to redeem yourself, Rufus, make sure you are honest with yourself. Live making sure you don’t regret how far you’ve come. Or the steps you’ve taken. Or the things you haven’t done.”

Live a life where you feel like you did the right thing at the end.

"You don't want me as an inspiration, but don't worry." He tries to smirk, even if it's uneven and not really true, poking the hand on his leg with finger his childishly. "I don't intend to spend the rest of my life what my father expected me to be. That is the only thing I would ever regret at this point in time."

“Well, if you ever have something you need help with that any moral man can agree to, I will do my best to help with it. Consider it... positive reinforcement.”

His attention returns to the file, his hand grabbing the pen again. Time to work he thinks.

For whatever reason, Rufus finds that funny and begins to laugh a little bit. He's not sure if he's now a cat or a child in Reeve's eyes, given that comment, but he won't say a word on it right now.

Instead, he shifts so that he can see where Reeve is in case the man has any questions. Although, if he doesn't, Rufus himself may slip off into a light sleep, quite warm and comfortable in his blanket on the couch.

Reeve is quite happily caught up in his reading, and with him more awake his mind is more than sharp enough to process the profiles and notes in full. Rufus will definitely have time to doze. Chances are Reeve would feel no need to speak again until he got to the notes section.

He'll wake whenever Reeve says or does something to indicate Rufus has fallen asleep, sitting up a little bit slowly with an apology as he does. "You've read it all?"

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Bets on if Rufus wakes him or just sleeps on his own couch? XD

A Turk would wake Reeve because Boss Rrally?

After they took pictures of their sleeping boss? lol

Reno and Elena would. Rude and ardent wouldn’t.

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I'm breaking some Otwts canon, since the timeline doesn't add up, so yeah

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Just leaving this opening here for future exploitation

Pffft - and I'll leave it open if Rufus falls asleep on Reeve xD

Poor Reeve is a good enough guy to let Rufus do that.

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