plate_builder | [Open Post]

"Ah, if only I had ever considered such a thing when making my own space. Granted my floor has a premium need for space," Reeve admits. Even his own office is hardly as large as it should be, and highly cramped. The couch is the only 'excessive use' of space that he allows himself.

And yes, the glass. Reeve sets his spoon aside and takes up the glass. Goes through the behaviors of a connoisseur, observing the color, swirling the liquid, scenting it. Once he'd had a taste he nods in satisfaction.

"Definitely to my taste."

"I have to keep the best in here in case of unexpected meetings." Meaning Rufus or his father coming in, not that it happens all that often. "And for myself." Tseng watches him as he examines the contents of the glass before turning back to his meal.

"What would you eat if you had the choice?"

What would he eat if he had a choice? Not something Reeve tends to contemplate.

"It's been a while since I've put a lot of thought into it, to be honest. I keep a pile of takeout pamphlets in my desk. Each numbered. I have three six-sided dice, and the pamphlets are numbered from three to eighteen. I roll the dice to select a restaurant. And then just select what I like."

Which is a HORRID way of doing things. But it's how he's lived for a few years now.

"...You roll dice to decide what you're going to eat." That's not something he honestly expected to hear, although it's as valid a method as any. Odd, but it fits Reeve in a way, given how much math is involved in the kind of work he does.

"Make a list sometime and send it to me. I'll keep it in my desk."

"I know, I'm a rather shameful man, aren't I?" Reeve sighs as he takes the spoon and dips it into the soup again. "At some point the... work got far more important than myself. Every moment I spent trying to make a decision was minutes I wasn't spending on helping people."

Reeve: a self-destructive level of helpful.

"But if you insist, I can try and come up with something."

"You can't help people if you're not helping yourself to some degree." As harsh as that may sound. "And the company is demanding, I know that." He more than most given he all but lived in his office for various reasons, but also the nature of his own work.

"And no, you're not shameful because you care."

Reeve had been letting the company pick him apart since day one. And this was what he was now.

"I wasn't always like this," he admits between mouthfuls of soup and before a bit of rice. "When I was younger, more idealistic, and the plates were only just starting... It was different. I was different."

"Do you regret coming to work here?" He sets his spoon down again once he's done.

Does he? There is a lot that lends itself to the idea. And it's complicated. So he doesn't really comment for a while. Just eats and things how to phrase it. And when he thinks he's got an idea he sets the spoon aside and throws back all of the scotch.

This... could get him killed.

"Yes. I fear that I've done terrible damage to many lives by creating the reactors. By designing Midgar. By making this tower."

"So you regret your role in the development of everything that defines the company as it is today?" His tone is conversational, Tseng setting his spoon down as he refills their glasses, his gaze fixing on Reeve again.

"But you have done something none of the other executives have managed, at least." Loyalty to Shinra stretches only as far as the paychecks for most of the employees, that and fear of reprisal from his own department keep them in line, but it's not an environment meant to foster anything more than competition and betrayal on the higher levels.

What has he managed? What has he done? All he can do is spend every moment of his life fighting for these people that ShinRa does not truly care for.

"What is that, Tseng? You seem to think there is more to me than there really is."

"You care." It's simple, his fingers curling around the glass before he drains it again.

"You actually care about the consequences of your actions." Tseng sets the glass down, hand dropping to the desk.

He does. He cares more than anything. For a moment he frowns, but mostly he smiles. Smiles softly and even self-consciously.

"Why shouldn't I? People's lives are dependent upon me."

"I didn't say you shouldn't, I said you'd managed to do something the rest of us can't." Tseng shifts to his feet, moving around the desk as he talks, coming to lean against it beside where Reeve's sitting.

"Not that we don't have our reasons, but I will admit, it's rare to find someone like you."

Can't, or wouldn't? Reeve expected it was more the latter than the former. He finishes his drink and returns his full attention to the meal.

"Is it a good rarity?"

"That's for you to decide, I think, although it is one of the reasons I sought you out." Tseng lets him focus on the food then, just refilling his glass to drink while Reeve eats.

Kindness and caring was what drew Tseng to him? Interesting. He finishes his bowl of soup and the last few mouthfuls of rice. And he takes the finished cup, leaning back in his chair o consider the taste of the drink.

"That is not what I expected to hear of you."

'What did you expect, then?" It's a mild enough question, Tseng's fingers wrapped around his own glass as he turns his head to look at Reeve.

"Given the image I project, I can somewhat imagine, but you might surprise me."

"Well, what I expected was not the sort of thing a person would admit to. Making use of a man who clearly has interest in you but who is not likely to betray the secrecy of the sort of thing which you would desire."

And given their earlier involvement, he has to assume Tseng wants VERY involved things of him.

"If I wanted that, I had options." Tseng refilled his glass. "But I was curious about you."

"Curious? Why?" Reeve asks, because he wants to know. He keeps toying with the glass.

"As I said, you're not like the other employees in this building." And there might have been some calculation behind his decision but Reeve kept himself apart to some degree, which also appealed to Tseng. The last thing he'd wanted was someone in the middle of interoffice politics, at least willingly.

Tseng set his half empty glass down.

"You keep saying things, but your specificity is truly lacking," Reeve sighs. There are plenty of people in this building who are kind. Most tend to work for him.

"Yes, but I don't seek out the hourly employees for anything of this nature. They do tend to be terrified of me as a rule to begin with and it's hardly anything I'd enjoy." Tseng shifts his weight slightly.

"And you think I'm not scared of you," Reeve asks. But they both know he's not. Or perhaps the being scared of Tseng is a turn on.

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