// LOUD ANGRY REMINDER I WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR REACTIONS TO MY THREADS AND WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT HOW CHARACTERS INTERACT AND WHAT MY FOLLOWERS ARE WANTING TO HAPPEN OR STUFF AND IF YOU COME INTO MY ASK BOX TO TELL ME THERE IS A 34088% CHANCE I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER
It’s the way that he words it—-her keeper—-as if she isn’t her own person, as if she doesn’t maintain herself, as if she is still under someone else’s beck and call and manipulation. And of course he doesn’t mean it that way, but it doesn’t change how she hears it, and how she reacts.
"I don’t have a keeper,” she hisses, highly insistent and defensive, panicked, obviously triggered by his choice of vocabulary.
"Hyne," he says. "Relax. I meant that monkey in a uniform out there."
The last thing this room needs is someone else losing their shit. There’s only enough room for one person’s crazy in here and he thinks that he’s filled that quota for a dozen lifetimes.
"Look, you don’t have to do anything for me right now if you’re upset or whatever. I can take care of myself.”
-plugs the lights into the wall socket-
-covers in ornaments-
-sticks in corner of apartment-
-congratulations you have become the almasy christmas tree how does it feel-
Steak, with peppercorn sauce.
It is noted to essentially send a care package to end all care packages—-or several—-without him having to say much more, whether he really wants what she’ll send him or not, aside from what he’s asked her for.
She can get that much right.
"Are you hungry?" she asks, because she wants to do more, and she wants to do it before she’s on another continent. His physical appearance isn’t dissuading her need to feed him, either.
Seifer had started out small—-he had to have been the tiniest baby she had ever seen in her life—-but he grew to be strong and healthy, always at the top of his class when it came to any and all physical training. Seeing him like this, however, leaves her uneasy, and she remembers the first few days he was theirs, how hard it was to make him take the formula, and her panic that he would starve to death before his first month, and how only Cid could burp him right, even though he was scared out of his mind that his hands were too big and that he was going to hurt him.
Nineteen years later, and they still don’t know what they’re doing.
"I could eat." Another shrug. He probably should, anyway. Put something in his stomach besides beer and whatever the hell Raijin’s been trying to cook.
His stomach rumbles at the idea of real food, because he’s pretty sure leftover Estharian is not anywhere remotely close to what his mother’s got in mind, even though he’s got maybe a quarter of a loaf of bread and possibly some peanut butter shoved in the back of a cabinet. “You sure your keeper will let you?”
An inclination of his head, in the direction of the door, where a SeeD guard waits. His neighbors are probably taking bets on whether or not he’ll be marched out of the apartment in handcuffs.
[Text]: I’m sure I can imagine.
But yes, if you would, please.
[text]: Trust me. You HAVE to see it. Cutting out early, home in probably thirty. Anything else I need to grab?
-comes in tangled with christmas lights-
-sticks a tinfoil star on top of-
-is not even sorry.-
[Text]: Exactly. A faux tree will do just fine. Maybe one day, when he calms down, we can get a real one.
[text]: Remind me to show you the video of that when I get home. It’s hilarious. You want me to grab a fake tree after work?
DON’T BECOME FRIENDS WITH FANFICTION AUTHORS THEY WILL RIP YOUR HEART OUT AND EAT IT AS A CASUAL SNACK