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"Not really." It's such a simple answer, and yet there's such a hint of amusement, he may be lying about that. But good luck figuring out if he is. "Besides, your humor seems pretty dark too, with exception of the car costume. Or, is it just dark towards me?"

"My humor is hardly dark. Have you met Cait?" Reeve considers Rufus briefly before settling back down to stretch out. "As for you I would prefer to put you in something else as a costume but the Stigma would make you self conscious so I went for covering."

"What would you be trying to dress me as that the stigma would be an issue?" He watches Reeve stretch out for a moment. "It looks like so long as you stay laid down you don't hurt too much. That's good."

Nope, Reeve was not going to discuss it. But he would rather focus on the pain. Or how it was less here.

"Yeah, you are right. Don't want to admit it, but the worst part is the leg and I suppose immobile is useful and important."

But what can you do? He sighs and reaches to lift his pad. He had drawn a healthy Rufus in vampire paraphernalia. And he looked good in Reeve's rough sketch.

"Then I'll see if we can get you some crutches or something to walk around until the leg heals. Since I doubt you really want to stay down all the time."

All this is said before Reeve holds up the image, and when he does, Rufus can't help but raise a brow. Even if Reeve doesn't have a dark sense of humor, it can be as biting as Rufus', unless a vampire was a fluke of a choice. And why did he actually look good in the sketch, rather than having just been more or less a body like the fashion magazines? It actually seems a bit curious for Reeve's profession, and that curiousness comes through in his voice.

"I didn't expect you to draw humans with a great amount of detail. Are there things you don't draw?"

"Pastorals. Still life. Comics," Reeve shrugged as he put the pad down. Of course Rufus would judge even this. "I wanted to be an artist for a while. Worked at it. But art doesn't put food on the table. Civil engineering and architectural design do."

His mother had always said she'd be proud no matter what. But pride? That was putting a roof over your mother's head. That was helping people. A pretty picture didn't help anyone. So Reeve barely bothered to draw anymore, except for himself if he was stressed

It wasn't so much judgment as curiosity, though with his personality, expecting the former was definitely more of the norm. Yet there isn't any of the normal amusement or harassment in his voice when he speaks next. "So, you took what you enjoyed and morphed it into something you could survive on. Good enough. I suppose it explains where Cait Sith came from too."

"Cait was a story my mother told me as a child. And a project to keep me sane with how powerless I was in my life. Something I could make and only ever be proud of."

And even that was appropriated by the company.

"A story?" Rufus sounds even more curious, what with his father's stories consisting of what a good son and heir should do, as well as instruction on people and how to manipulate them. A simple story, meant to entertain, was not in his power. "What sort of story features a Moogle-cat? Or even a cat with a crown?"

The question makes Reeve smile, and he pushes up to sit and look at Rufus. Clearly the man never got the story when he was growing up. Which meant JT was story time.

"Cait Sith is dervived from a story about a spirit, a fey called Cath Sidhe, the fairy of cats. The story is from around here, a tale of the Kalm highlands. He was a black wildcat, with a white spot on his chest. Cath Sidhe is a very clever spirit, so smart that he walks on his hind legs like a man. Cath is the king of all cats and his power is vast. They say that he comes to carry to souls of the dead away, making him stronger, so that one day he might walk the promised land and be king of men as well. Never light a fire near those who have passed, they say, so that it will not call Cath Sidhe. And if a man is lost, Cath will arrive to guide them if their soul is worthy."

He listens quietly, considering for a moment how he might have thought of such a story as a kid. Would it have amazed, or frightened, him if he wasn't raised by his father, but someone entirely different? And why is it, even now, he just wants to make a remark about it and Meteor, even though he knows full-well it's inappropriate?

Yet he does key in on something, and can't seem to help a chuckle. "Would that explain Tseng at the Temple of Ancients? The way everything sounded, he was basically considered dead, and only Cait was there after Cloud and his group left, right?"

Tseng. Reeve sighs and shakes his head. "He's stubborn. But... yeah, probably some spirit there, watching out for him."

Truth told, Reeve was damn good at what he did. And Cait Sith channeling magic had been one of the things he did well. It had been fueled by a complex system in the mog, based on some of Scarlet and Heidegger's tech. And Reeve had delayed the second Cait getting where it was needed because he had to see Tseng healed. But everyone benefitted from the idea that Tseng was just hard to kill.

"Certainly stubborn." Rufus doesn't even hesitate to speak this, knowing the Turk very well, and what sort of man he really was. So cold seeming, and yet, he had a deep passing that fueled him when it came to those he cared for.

As to spirits watching over him? Rufus knows such things exist, but he looks at Reeve with a smile. "Excepting Aeris, would there be a spirit called Reeve involved? You may have an antipathy towards most of ShinRa, but I've never seen you as having a dislike for the Turks altogether."

"I may not have liked the company, but the people weren't always bad. And Tseng..."

Well that was something else entirely. While on a lot of metrics Tseng was a terrible person, Reeve had been fond of him. Tseng has never been cruel to him. Had even saved Reeve from a dose of Scarlet at a few parties. And there were other debts. He may have owed the man his life.

They were even now.

"The log and short of it is that Cait Sith comes from a fairy tale. Not from any drawing I've done. Black cat, white spots, crown, even the accent."

"Tseng has a certain draw, doesn't he?" Rufus knows this may not have been what Reeve was implying, or going to say, but he also knows it's the truth. When the Turks were more or less disbanded many years ago, Reno and Rude had stayed on along with Tseng.

Sure, Reno always said it was because he had no where else to go, and Rude said very little in general about his reasons, but there was no way either would have stayed on without a great deal of respect and admiration for the dark-haired man. Even though they greatly seemed to enjoy the liberties being Turks gave them, both had strong feelings about who they would or wouldn't follow, and to what extent. Tseng, apparently, was easily to follow.

Which left Rufus wondering how they could follow him? He was in no way easy to deal with, frequently even a complete brat who wouldn't explain what he was thinking and treating the three men and one woman as only employees, and yet...

For a moment he closes his eyes, apparently not having expected his mind to take him down that road, and he's grateful Reeve goes on speaking, hoping he doesn't catch that moment of doubt. He even seems to remain genuinely curious as he speaks his next question.

"And the Moogle? Is he also from a fairy tale?"

"Reno," Reeve admitted. He hated the mog as much as most people. It was too much, over the top and awkward. "I needed a means to hold the needed engines for the magic casting and the system for powering him. Reno suggested the idea."

He had made do with it. But once it was all over Cait was retired as a potential weapon.

"Reno?" He seems honestly surprised, somehow not expecting the red-head to provide something so generally considered cute as a solution. A tank, or something phallic, yes - cute? Not so much. That was more Elena, or maybe even Rude. There was only one thing about it that made sense, and that was its size. "I'm a bit flabbergasted. Please tell me he suggested something dirty first."

"About ten different dirty things before calling me boring and saying I might as well use a giant mog if I wanted to be kid friendly."

Reno had been so mad that Reeve had gone with that in the end. Tseng had said it was good thinking. And Reeve had been pleased for the praise. He was an idiot then.

"Thank God," Though saying it as if he's relieved, there's a smirk on his face. "The next question was going to be just how hard he had hit his head beforehand.

"Then again, that head of his sometimes seems decorative. Or, at least, that's what he likes people to think."

"He did his part. But now you know the silly truth. To both parts of Cait. Though the mog is gone. And it will never come back. Cait isn't a weapon or a spy anymore."

Just something that reminded him of his mother. And so he kept it despite the pain. Besides, the members of AVALANCHE took him a bit more seriously with Cait. How sad.

Rufus smiles a little, that last bit obviously aimed at him, though he can't help but note. "Sure you won't bring it back? The kids would love it."

It wasn't a pointed jab at all. Just a statement of his own. His own affirmation. He wasn't made for war.

"I didn't make Cait for the kids. I made him for mom. She was from Kalm. Not far from here. The mog was stupid anyway."

"Mm." Rufus obviously has no idea what to say to that, instead opting to work on his water, and leaning his head back a little when done. "Well, I suppose I should let you rest some more. I should rest too."

"Did your mother ever tell you bedtime stories?"

The question was far too personal, far too invasive. It was rude and forward and wrong to ask. And yet he asked anyway. Because he needed to know. Had to know. What life did this man live when he was a boy?

He had kind of hoped the question wouldn't come up, and the sigh perhaps indicates that, his eyes shifting back very much to the look Reeve is probably used to, and a vague, amused smile crawling to his lips... An unintentional protection.

"I don't remember her. And my father's idea of a bedtime story wasn't anything like what your mother told you."

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Sorry, life got away from me.

Here too

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