Rufus Shinra

After yesterday’s conversation, Rufus was feeling... reckless. It fizzled under his skin, irritating him, and further destroying his focus. Not even taking Dark Nation out for a run that went on long enough to completely tucker the puppy out to the point where Rufus had to carry him home had really done much to settle him.

Though he hoped, spitefully, that whichever Turk who’d had to go on the run with him was feeling it. Rufus wasn’t, which likely came as a surprise to them. Or maybe not. He always had been more than fit enough to take care of Dark Nation’s needs. Blaming his further physicality on the island could work. The island was covered in stairs.

But now, with Dark Nation sleeping, Rufus was entirely alone—insofar as anyone was ever really alone in the ShinRa Building.

He thought about what Tseng had talked about yesterday, about how they could be more mutually beneficial to one another, and after running through his list of secrets… well, fine then. He’d throw the poor man a bone. There were several ranges in the ShinRa Building. Some, like the ones he’d been at yesterday, were never empty, always someone in there. There was the one that the Turks favoured, which was quieter.

Then there was the one that, really, should be closed entirely but for some reason the paperwork kept getting lost. Rufus rarely interfered with his father’s work but he’d taken steps years ago to secure his own range. Because he wanted Tseng to be able to find him this time, he wasn’t quite as circumspect as getting to it as he usually was. Tseng would still have to work for it, of course, Rufus wasn’t that nice ever, but Rufus wasn’t flat out disappearing into the depths of the building either.

(The Turks knew many things. Rufus knew the ShinRa Building better than any of them or all of them combined. It had been a study of a lifetime.)

By the time Tseng found him, he’d find Rufus deep within shooting drills of his own. He wore the proper safety equipment, of course, if only because an accident happening during practice was the stupidest thing if he could prevent it.

Rufus, as it turned out, was very good with a gun.

[Again, for a Turk, please!]

Really, it wasn't even worth listening to which particular infraction had driven his father to the point of actually punishing him. Rufus listened anyway, filing it away under 'things to be more secretive about, perhaps' and then raised his eyebrows all through the description of what, exactly, his punishment would be.

A boarding school? Not on this world?

And he was to go alone?

"What? Not even a token Turk to keep me company?" Rufus asked mildly, glancing at the pamphlet his father had handed him. He'd need more information before deciding how he wanted to handle the school, but it was a start. "How unusual."

His father steepled his hands together and looked at him sharply over his desk. "I’ve been assured that the boarding school has handled students like you before.”

"Oh, I’ll be good as gil," Rufus said honestly. After all, gil was only as good as the person who spent it… "You can count on it."

"You’d better be. Get packing." With that, the President turned back to his paperwork, duties to his son discharged.

As he left, Rufus made sure to look just the right amount of contrite mixed with rebelliousness. After all, he'd just been punished. He shouldn't let his old man think he didn't mind. Inwardly, he was smiling. Four years without the Turks hanging over his shoulders?

Thank you, Father, for this marvelous gift you’ve unwittingly given me.

… Though speaking of Turks hanging over his shoulders… Rufus was far too well practiced to roll his eyes or sigh or do anything like that but, yes, of course. Even now he had a babysitter. One that wanted to be seen by him.

Rufus ignored him. Pointedly. Well, he made it look like it was simply because he was that inobservant, but… no. It was pointedly.

He headed towards his rooms, debating the merits of what to bring with him, and waited for his black-suited shadow to say or do something that might be, even vaguely, interesting.

[NFB. For the shadow, please.]