[The greenhouse interior shows no sign of the conflagration that had consumed the ill-fated planter just the week before. The clean-up had been swift, the remnants of sand and dirt and burnt plant-parts now entirely missing, replaced with fresh soil and an empty row for something new to grow. This small tract of potted space simply awaits someone to tend to it, and Sephiroth finds himself returning every few days to see what needs to be done, and if someone from the Coven had sewn in fresh seeds. As of yet, no such progress.
Today, he’s here to do the same, and when he opens the door to the greenhouse, that telltale humidity sweeps forward and sticks against his exposed skin, clings to his clothes. Bright, green things shudder gently in wayward greeting, but more prominently, a familiar presence — coupled with a familiar voice — has followed him in.
He turns to face Nico, eyebrows lifting in faint surprise. Sephiroth looks much the same as the last time — hair pulled back, alien eyes bright and searching, hands ungloved for the sake of infusing a more delicate touch into his fingers, until he’s far more used to dealing with flora. He notes that she looks quite different, less like a bundle of nervous energy, no fire sparking at her fingertips, a more solid countenance and confidence already a handful of sentences in.
And bearing a basket full of muffins, too, plump and soft and smelling of sweet cinnamon that permeates even the loam-scented climate around them.]
Is this your version of an apology?
[He hadn’t been angry; startled (in that unremarkable degree that only Sephiroth can be startled), and put-off by how quickly his work had vanished in a matter of seconds. Disapproving, yes, of her inability to control herself, but he was never frustrated with her. He had seen too often how the moons affected both Monster and Witch. Sephiroth, with willpower so fierce it might as well be tempered steel, has felt that same steel bend under the Sisters, and some might even argue in far less flattering ways than simply torching a row of growing plants.
Though perhaps it is hard to tell, given his demeanor reveals so little, and his reply could be taken as less-than-affable. But he steps forward and gently grasps at the basket’s handle, head canted downwards to see what’s within. Muffins and— packets of seeds and fresh bulbs, as she implied. The little illustrations scrawled on the front of the former reveal flowers of many colors, bright and waiting to be utilized.
He’s silent, and maybe a little struck by the unexpectedness of it, that someone would go to the trouble to make muffins and purchase replacement seeds for their mistake. It’s a gesture that makes logical sense, but logic can never quite dull the oddity of unfamiliarity. No one has really ever gone to this length with him before, and such actions continue to pile up in this world so far away from Gaia.]
I wasn’t angry. You’ve gone to too much trouble for my sake.
[That, too, is strange, and he lifts his eyes to look at her again, and something smooths over the militant edges of tone.]
…But it’s appreciated, regardless. They smell pleasant enough.
( Nico watches him react, and can't help but find his response to the basket a little odd. It certainly seems to reflect the way he's behaved around her up to this point: measured, reserved, perhaps a little reluctant around the edges, but there's an undercurrent of surprise to his words that leaves her feeling somewhat strange. Why doesn't he seem he used to this? Do people not focus amends for their mistakes where he's from, or is it just a "him" thing? )
Even if you weren't angry, I messed up somethin' of yours. It's only right that I make it up to you — or at the very least replace it, y'know?
( Raking a hand through the thick wave of her hair, Nico decides to try for a little levity in the hopes of keeping the tone light. Sephiroth is an odd one — strange and intense, even in his dismissiveness — but that doesn't make him any less deserving of kindness, and although she's relatively inconsistent in the way that she shows it? It's important for her to do all the same. Nero, he gets her company, his Devil Breakers and the open invitation of a shoulder to cry on. Kyrie gets help with the kids, odd jobs around the house, and an electrician whenever she needs it.
Sephiroth gets breakfast muffins and some plants. )
And you shut up with "they smell decent enough", there's foster-kids back home who think I'm a cake-makin' genius.
( But she's smiling broadly, her expression warming with satisfaction as it sinks in that he hasn't flat-out rejected her apology. Calling it unnecessary is fair enough, but Nico is observant enough to detect that slight softening of his edges when he looks back up at her. It should be strange to see, coming from features that lend themselves to the look of a predator, and for a moment she wonders if that is somehow tied in to his surprise at the gifts.
A conversation for a different time, perhaps. )
Anyway, it ain't no trouble. Bakin' stuff ... it's just edible chemistry, y'know?
( Nico tosses him a wink. )
Stuff gets a lot easier if I can make it seem like a science.
[Sephiroth makes a faint sound from the back of his throat, like a scoff that wasn't quite given clearance to leave his lips. It sounds amused in a way that only he can manage -- a sort of knowing humor squeezed dry of life. A cake-making genius, was it?]
Is that right?
[He turns, then, to cross over to a table adorned with tiny, individually potted flowers. There's room enough for the basket to rest there, and he places it down for now, though a hand dips in just low enough to procure two of the bulbs. He speaks in the interim.]
...Scientifically-minded. Putting things together, taking them apart, wondering what makes something tick. I've been around your type before, and I know that you're all endlessly stubborn.
[There are less flattering adjectives that he could apply to scientists, some old faces far more deserving than others, but he spares her that undeserved comparison. Without preamble, he turns on his heel and tosses a single bulb in her direction. It spins in a gentle arc -- catch, Nico!]
And that stubbornness is bolstered by curiosity and the desire to learn. You can consider this moment an exercise in plant biology, then.
[In other words: she's already here, so why waste the opportunity? Stay and plant a bulb or two.]
( Honestly? Sephiroth's offer is more than she was expecting, not least because she'd assumed he might just try to shoo her on out just to make extra sure to avoid any further accidents. That he'd follow up his not entirely flattering assessment of scientists by tossing her a bulb is ... surprising, to say the least, and Nico's eyebrows bump up her forehead as her smile grows wide. )
Really?
( "An exercise in plant biology", yeah? She's beginning to realise that this might just be the kind of person Sephiroth is: in the same way she likes to turn things into science, perhaps he just finds things easier if he approaches life as a series of exercises. It certainly wouldn't be the strangest thing she's heard, especially if her hunch that he's military turns out to be right. Nico moves around to where he's standing and crouches to poke at a planter, dipping a finger into the damp, warm soil before rubbing a little against the pad of her thumb.
Nicoletta Goldstein, learning how to plant things. Who'd have ever thought. )
I've been around your type too, y'know. Practical, like things done a certain way, no time for messin' around or bein' a dumbass ...
( A quiet chuckle follows, and she shakes her head. )
They all turned out to be army guys.
( Brown eyes lift to look back up at him, one eyebrow raised in question. )
[Sephiroth has already half-turned to assess the state of the long planter stretched out before them. An artistic mindset might equate it to a canvas untouched, but he can only see it as an empty space, waiting for a line of bulbs to be slotted into their proper spots, much like infantrymen lined up to wait at attention. Her assessment, then, is both correct and starkly intuitive.
It earns her a look as he crouches down in a gathering of dark clothes, black feathers, and hair that sweeps the floor next to his boots.]
Yes.
[The answer is complicated, as all things from home have become. But in its most simplistic form, her assumption is right on the money.]
I’ve spent much of my life in the military. Ever since I was a child.
[He reaches out to push aside a small mound of soil with two fingers. It leaves an indent in the planter, just deep enough to slot in the little flower bulb.]
Practicality isn’t an expectation, it’s a requirement.
( That's the thing about Nico: she's about as subtle as a hurricane, but that doesn't mean she isn't both observant and sensitive when she needs to be. Sephiroth wouldn't be the first to find himself on the receiving end of a such an educated guess. )
Since you were a kid, huh?
( She winces a little. It's hard to figure out what to say to that: Nico doesn't have too much experience with the military proper, but she does know that children never become soldiers because they have healthy and happy home lives. Would asking about his mom and dad be insensitive? Probably, because what kind of parents would enrol their son into the military while he was a child? And if that wasn't the case, what happened to him that ended up putting him on the path of a soldier? )
How old are you now, anyway? ( She watches him dip his fingers into the soil to make a neat little hole, presumably for the bulb. ) You don't look much older than me, but ... all that grey hair's thrown me off.
( Which isn't strictly true; Nero's hair colour is pretty similar, but then he's got demon blood flowing through his veins making him look like a Grade-A badass. A hint amusement touches the corners of her lips: )
And speakin' of, I dunno how "practical" it is to have hair that touches the floor, Angelface.
( Said as she reaches over to press the bulb into the dark, warm space he's created. )
[Since he was a kid. His childhood was defined by the same array of environments, of people, of expectations — the laboratories, the scientists and researchers and their assistants. And the military, the commanders and officers and the battlefield lit with furor and blood. A part of Sephiroth realizes that no one else quite has had the same experiences, that their younger years were defined more by simpler domestic qualities, and not the bright pinprick of needles or the same battle scenario fought ad nauseam until he had beaten his own time a hundred times over. But this mundanity strikes him as foreign; abnormal to his normal. He thinks little of it — even now, disillusioned by Shinra, he does not give them enough credit for stealing as much from him as they had.
Not yet, anyway.
But that isn't what she asks, and it's easy enough to reply with his age despite the comment about his "grey" hair.]
I'm twenty-two.
[Doing the math from his file is easy enough, and simpler still to keep track of. Nico slots the bulb into the cool tract of earth, and Sephiroth begins to work the same shape into the soil for his own bulb.]
My hair is practical in its own way. [He explains mildly, as though his own vanity has nothing to do with it.] Most would call it a disadvantage, a detriment in a fight. It could get in the way, or an enemy might come close enough to grab it, then force me open to an attack.
[As though to illustrate, he sweeps one of his long bangs over his shoulder, having fallen into his face as he dips his head low.]
With me, that's an impossibility. There's no need to keep it short; thus, it's an intimidation tactic. Shinra's marketing would agree.
( Twenty-two. A year younger than she is and already so serious; a child solder who's never once smiled in her presence, and who she's only really encountered doing things on his own. And what's that he just said about ... "Shinra?" That their marketing department support keeping his hair long as an intimidation tactic? Nico wants to scoff — that isn't a proper reason to decide to do anything.
Nico shakes her head, then pulls in a deep breath that she releases in a low whistle. )
... I guess you must be pretty good then.
( His hair gleams as he pulls the bang over his shoulder and Nico can't help but wonder when he last cut it — or when it last did become a problem in the middle of battle. Probably a long, long time ago, judging but the length of it now. For some reason this revelation makes Nico feel a little sad. )
My business partner Nero, he's good too. We don't work for the military or anything though — our job's huntin' demons. Freelance. He does the fightin', I make the weapons.
( Keen to practice, Nico presses her own fingers into the soil a few inches down from Sephiroth to make another bulb-sized space. May as well get a few more planted up while they're at it, right? )
[“Pretty good” is an understatement, and Sephiroth would once have thought it strange to hear. But now, there is a quiet solace in knowing that most don’t look at him bearing expectation and barely-reined-in awe, and instead can form their impressions based on interaction, rather than secondhand tales of inhuman heroism or, yes, Shinra’s marketing.
So “pretty good” works well enough for now, and the only correction he provides is that of the company itself.]
Shinra isn’t a person. It’s a power company.
[Does it seem strange that a power company would employ some mode of military power? It is, but to someone hailing from Gaia, and who grew up under that company’s wing, the idea is still embedded in his bones as normal — despite his respect for the mega-corporation long discarded.]
I worked for them for years. I don’t consider myself to be in their employ any longer.
[To say the least. To get any deeper is to tread into ugly, unflattering territory, and Sephiroth is choosy about who is allowed trespass.]
Nico appears to be making room for more bulbs than he’s fetched from the basket, so Sephiroth makes a move to stand and gather a handful more, as many as he can carry — he returns and lays them out before them in the soil, ready to be planted one by one.]
...Your business partner, is he in this city with you?
[Demon hunting has little context for him; he imagines only large and twisted monsters (irony, given this place), mindless and in need of slaying.]
( That definitely trips her up a little. A power company? Nico had assumed that "Shinra" was some kind of government official heading up their department of defence — but then he'd never specified what kind of military force he worked for, did he? The fact that it was a private one is deeply uncomfortable (and equally uncomfortably explains the "child" element of it), and Nico shifts as that discomfort settles deeper into her stomach.
Can she even ask about that? Sephiroth changes the subject smoothly after putting a little distance between him and them; he doesn't work for them now, so ... maybe she should just leave it at that. Nico is nosey, but she isn't stupid. Perhaps better to let that lie for the time being. )
Yeah, he is. The guy who owns the company, too, but he's been in a coma since he got here.
( Nico holds up a hand. )
Which ain't too weird for him, before you say anythin'. We got him set up all comfy back at the cottage.
( With the bulbs laid out, Nico begins slotting them into the holes she's created. )
It's kinda hard to get work demon hunting when there's no demons around though. I guess it's just as well there's always people needin' help with stuff, huh?
[A coma? A matter for concern, normally, but apparently this equates to “normal” for this man. Curious, but not so much to ask after it; he has heard stranger from the Mirrorbound, and more unbelievable, than that.
Sephiroth moves a step or two aside, so that they might utilize the whole stretch of the planter, dipping his fingers into the shallow soil once more to create a few more spots. He spares Nico the occasional glance, seen through the sheer of silver bangs that rebelliously slide over his shoulders.]
...It’s a city full of people, and people always need something. There’s work every month, if you don’t mind tasks that are likely… more simplistic than you’d prefer.
[Ask him about the time he looked for a lost cat, only to hunt down the wrong cat. Actually, don’t.]
Still. There may not be demons to kill — whatever that entails — but there are the beasts infected by the Cwyld. Have you seen one?
( "More simplistic than she'd prefer" is right, although she can't complain too much. Nico has been sensible about the odd jobs she's taken to tide herself and Nero over so far: anything that's been able to teach her a new skill, or get her used to the flora and fauna of the place? Sold. Right now her main goal is to soak up as much information as possible so she can make herself feel useful again. )
I heard about them, sure, but I've never seen one.
( She shifts from her crouch to her knees, sitting back on her ankles to get a little more comfortable. )
You reckon there's cunes to be made in goin' out on a hunt?
( Nero has been bringing in his share of the household funds by doing a bit of exterminating here and there, but going straight for the infected beasts could be a reasonable suggestion. If someone's willing to pay them for it, why not? )
Oftentimes, not a hunt specifically. But the need for someone to protect the researchers, or members of the Coven, who want to set foot in dangerous territory to learn more about the Cwyld. Essentially the role of a bodyguard.
[He shifts a little, too, for the sake of a more comfortable position. It seems as though they are both committed to spending an ample time in the greenhouse for now.]
Your friend might not have any trouble with them. But I would suggest you keep to the city if you're not trained to fight.
[A pause, spoken so plainly that one might miss it for the joke it is-]
Are you sure you don’t want to begin a career in botany?
( Bodyguarding? That could definitely be a lucrative source of income, and in her opinion there's no-one better suited to the job. While she'd probably not admit it to his face, his skill in monster hunting rivals her own in weapon smithing; between them, she doesn't see why they couldn't bring Devil May Cry to Aefenglom. A bit of advertising, a few impressive kills under their belts—
But then Sephiroth pops on his clown nose, and Nico just stares at him for a moment before feeling a smirk curve her lips. )
I dunno, you sure you don't wanna hang up your boots an' become a comedian?
( She flicks a little soil at him — you know, since they're both adults here. )
Your faith in me is real nice an' all, but flash-frying those flowers just the once was way more than enough for me.
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trulygifted) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2020-07-20 08:13 pm
no subject
Today, he’s here to do the same, and when he opens the door to the greenhouse, that telltale humidity sweeps forward and sticks against his exposed skin, clings to his clothes. Bright, green things shudder gently in wayward greeting, but more prominently, a familiar presence — coupled with a familiar voice — has followed him in.
He turns to face Nico, eyebrows lifting in faint surprise. Sephiroth looks much the same as the last time — hair pulled back, alien eyes bright and searching, hands ungloved for the sake of infusing a more delicate touch into his fingers, until he’s far more used to dealing with flora. He notes that she looks quite different, less like a bundle of nervous energy, no fire sparking at her fingertips, a more solid countenance and confidence already a handful of sentences in.
And bearing a basket full of muffins, too, plump and soft and smelling of sweet cinnamon that permeates even the loam-scented climate around them.]
Is this your version of an apology?
[He hadn’t been angry; startled (in that unremarkable degree that only Sephiroth can be startled), and put-off by how quickly his work had vanished in a matter of seconds. Disapproving, yes, of her inability to control herself, but he was never frustrated with her. He had seen too often how the moons affected both Monster and Witch. Sephiroth, with willpower so fierce it might as well be tempered steel, has felt that same steel bend under the Sisters, and some might even argue in far less flattering ways than simply torching a row of growing plants.
Though perhaps it is hard to tell, given his demeanor reveals so little, and his reply could be taken as less-than-affable. But he steps forward and gently grasps at the basket’s handle, head canted downwards to see what’s within. Muffins and— packets of seeds and fresh bulbs, as she implied. The little illustrations scrawled on the front of the former reveal flowers of many colors, bright and waiting to be utilized.
He’s silent, and maybe a little struck by the unexpectedness of it, that someone would go to the trouble to make muffins and purchase replacement seeds for their mistake. It’s a gesture that makes logical sense, but logic can never quite dull the oddity of unfamiliarity. No one has really ever gone to this length with him before, and such actions continue to pile up in this world so far away from Gaia.]
I wasn’t angry. You’ve gone to too much trouble for my sake.
[That, too, is strange, and he lifts his eyes to look at her again, and something smooths over the militant edges of tone.]
…But it’s appreciated, regardless. They smell pleasant enough.
[The muffins, of course.]
no subject
( Nico watches him react, and can't help but find his response to the basket a little odd. It certainly seems to reflect the way he's behaved around her up to this point: measured, reserved, perhaps a little reluctant around the edges, but there's an undercurrent of surprise to his words that leaves her feeling somewhat strange. Why doesn't he seem he used to this? Do people not focus amends for their mistakes where he's from, or is it just a "him" thing? )
Even if you weren't angry, I messed up somethin' of yours. It's only right that I make it up to you — or at the very least replace it, y'know?
( Raking a hand through the thick wave of her hair, Nico decides to try for a little levity in the hopes of keeping the tone light. Sephiroth is an odd one — strange and intense, even in his dismissiveness — but that doesn't make him any less deserving of kindness, and although she's relatively inconsistent in the way that she shows it? It's important for her to do all the same. Nero, he gets her company, his Devil Breakers and the open invitation of a shoulder to cry on. Kyrie gets help with the kids, odd jobs around the house, and an electrician whenever she needs it.
Sephiroth gets breakfast muffins and some plants. )
And you shut up with "they smell decent enough", there's foster-kids back home who think I'm a cake-makin' genius.
( But she's smiling broadly, her expression warming with satisfaction as it sinks in that he hasn't flat-out rejected her apology. Calling it unnecessary is fair enough, but Nico is observant enough to detect that slight softening of his edges when he looks back up at her. It should be strange to see, coming from features that lend themselves to the look of a predator, and for a moment she wonders if that is somehow tied in to his surprise at the gifts.
A conversation for a different time, perhaps. )
Anyway, it ain't no trouble. Bakin' stuff ... it's just edible chemistry, y'know?
( Nico tosses him a wink. )
Stuff gets a lot easier if I can make it seem like a science.
no subject
Is that right?
[He turns, then, to cross over to a table adorned with tiny, individually potted flowers. There's room enough for the basket to rest there, and he places it down for now, though a hand dips in just low enough to procure two of the bulbs. He speaks in the interim.]
...Scientifically-minded. Putting things together, taking them apart, wondering what makes something tick. I've been around your type before, and I know that you're all endlessly stubborn.
[There are less flattering adjectives that he could apply to scientists, some old faces far more deserving than others, but he spares her that undeserved comparison. Without preamble, he turns on his heel and tosses a single bulb in her direction. It spins in a gentle arc -- catch, Nico!]
And that stubbornness is bolstered by curiosity and the desire to learn. You can consider this moment an exercise in plant biology, then.
[In other words: she's already here, so why waste the opportunity? Stay and plant a bulb or two.]
no subject
( Honestly? Sephiroth's offer is more than she was expecting, not least because she'd assumed he might just try to shoo her on out just to make extra sure to avoid any further accidents. That he'd follow up his not entirely flattering assessment of scientists by tossing her a bulb is ... surprising, to say the least, and Nico's eyebrows bump up her forehead as her smile grows wide. )
Really?
( "An exercise in plant biology", yeah? She's beginning to realise that this might just be the kind of person Sephiroth is: in the same way she likes to turn things into science, perhaps he just finds things easier if he approaches life as a series of exercises. It certainly wouldn't be the strangest thing she's heard, especially if her hunch that he's military turns out to be right. Nico moves around to where he's standing and crouches to poke at a planter, dipping a finger into the damp, warm soil before rubbing a little against the pad of her thumb.
Nicoletta Goldstein, learning how to plant things. Who'd have ever thought. )
I've been around your type too, y'know. Practical, like things done a certain way, no time for messin' around or bein' a dumbass ...
( A quiet chuckle follows, and she shakes her head. )
They all turned out to be army guys.
( Brown eyes lift to look back up at him, one eyebrow raised in question. )
That your thing too?
no subject
It earns her a look as he crouches down in a gathering of dark clothes, black feathers, and hair that sweeps the floor next to his boots.]
Yes.
[The answer is complicated, as all things from home have become. But in its most simplistic form, her assumption is right on the money.]
I’ve spent much of my life in the military. Ever since I was a child.
[He reaches out to push aside a small mound of soil with two fingers. It leaves an indent in the planter, just deep enough to slot in the little flower bulb.]
Practicality isn’t an expectation, it’s a requirement.
no subject
( That's the thing about Nico: she's about as subtle as a hurricane, but that doesn't mean she isn't both observant and sensitive when she needs to be. Sephiroth wouldn't be the first to find himself on the receiving end of a such an educated guess. )
Since you were a kid, huh?
( She winces a little. It's hard to figure out what to say to that: Nico doesn't have too much experience with the military proper, but she does know that children never become soldiers because they have healthy and happy home lives. Would asking about his mom and dad be insensitive? Probably, because what kind of parents would enrol their son into the military while he was a child? And if that wasn't the case, what happened to him that ended up putting him on the path of a soldier? )
How old are you now, anyway? ( She watches him dip his fingers into the soil to make a neat little hole, presumably for the bulb. ) You don't look much older than me, but ... all that grey hair's thrown me off.
( Which isn't strictly true; Nero's hair colour is pretty similar, but then he's got demon blood flowing through his veins making him look like a Grade-A badass. A hint amusement touches the corners of her lips: )
And speakin' of, I dunno how "practical" it is to have hair that touches the floor, Angelface.
( Said as she reaches over to press the bulb into the dark, warm space he's created. )
no subject
Not yet, anyway.
But that isn't what she asks, and it's easy enough to reply with his age despite the comment about his "grey" hair.]
I'm twenty-two.
[Doing the math from his file is easy enough, and simpler still to keep track of. Nico slots the bulb into the cool tract of earth, and Sephiroth begins to work the same shape into the soil for his own bulb.]
My hair is practical in its own way. [He explains mildly, as though his own vanity has nothing to do with it.] Most would call it a disadvantage, a detriment in a fight. It could get in the way, or an enemy might come close enough to grab it, then force me open to an attack.
[As though to illustrate, he sweeps one of his long bangs over his shoulder, having fallen into his face as he dips his head low.]
With me, that's an impossibility. There's no need to keep it short; thus, it's an intimidation tactic. Shinra's marketing would agree.
no subject
( Twenty-two. A year younger than she is and already so serious; a child solder who's never once smiled in her presence, and who she's only really encountered doing things on his own. And what's that he just said about ... "Shinra?" That their marketing department support keeping his hair long as an intimidation tactic? Nico wants to scoff — that isn't a proper reason to decide to do anything.
Nico shakes her head, then pulls in a deep breath that she releases in a low whistle. )
... I guess you must be pretty good then.
( His hair gleams as he pulls the bang over his shoulder and Nico can't help but wonder when he last cut it — or when it last did become a problem in the middle of battle. Probably a long, long time ago, judging but the length of it now. For some reason this revelation makes Nico feel a little sad. )
My business partner Nero, he's good too. We don't work for the military or anything though — our job's huntin' demons. Freelance. He does the fightin', I make the weapons.
( Keen to practice, Nico presses her own fingers into the soil a few inches down from Sephiroth to make another bulb-sized space. May as well get a few more planted up while they're at it, right? )
You work for this Shinra person?
no subject
So “pretty good” works well enough for now, and the only correction he provides is that of the company itself.]
Shinra isn’t a person. It’s a power company.
[Does it seem strange that a power company would employ some mode of military power? It is, but to someone hailing from Gaia, and who grew up under that company’s wing, the idea is still embedded in his bones as normal — despite his respect for the mega-corporation long discarded.]
I worked for them for years. I don’t consider myself to be in their employ any longer.
[To say the least. To get any deeper is to tread into ugly, unflattering territory, and Sephiroth is choosy about who is allowed trespass.]
Nico appears to be making room for more bulbs than he’s fetched from the basket, so Sephiroth makes a move to stand and gather a handful more, as many as he can carry — he returns and lays them out before them in the soil, ready to be planted one by one.]
...Your business partner, is he in this city with you?
[Demon hunting has little context for him; he imagines only large and twisted monsters (irony, given this place), mindless and in need of slaying.]
no subject
( That definitely trips her up a little. A power company? Nico had assumed that "Shinra" was some kind of government official heading up their department of defence — but then he'd never specified what kind of military force he worked for, did he? The fact that it was a private one is deeply uncomfortable (and equally uncomfortably explains the "child" element of it), and Nico shifts as that discomfort settles deeper into her stomach.
Can she even ask about that? Sephiroth changes the subject smoothly after putting a little distance between him and them; he doesn't work for them now, so ... maybe she should just leave it at that. Nico is nosey, but she isn't stupid. Perhaps better to let that lie for the time being. )
Yeah, he is. The guy who owns the company, too, but he's been in a coma since he got here.
( Nico holds up a hand. )
Which ain't too weird for him, before you say anythin'. We got him set up all comfy back at the cottage.
( With the bulbs laid out, Nico begins slotting them into the holes she's created. )
It's kinda hard to get work demon hunting when there's no demons around though. I guess it's just as well there's always people needin' help with stuff, huh?
no subject
Sephiroth moves a step or two aside, so that they might utilize the whole stretch of the planter, dipping his fingers into the shallow soil once more to create a few more spots. He spares Nico the occasional glance, seen through the sheer of silver bangs that rebelliously slide over his shoulders.]
...It’s a city full of people, and people always need something. There’s work every month, if you don’t mind tasks that are likely… more simplistic than you’d prefer.
[Ask him about the time he looked for a lost cat, only to hunt down the wrong cat. Actually, don’t.]
Still. There may not be demons to kill — whatever that entails — but there are the beasts infected by the Cwyld. Have you seen one?
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( "More simplistic than she'd prefer" is right, although she can't complain too much. Nico has been sensible about the odd jobs she's taken to tide herself and Nero over so far: anything that's been able to teach her a new skill, or get her used to the flora and fauna of the place? Sold. Right now her main goal is to soak up as much information as possible so she can make herself feel useful again. )
I heard about them, sure, but I've never seen one.
( She shifts from her crouch to her knees, sitting back on her ankles to get a little more comfortable. )
You reckon there's cunes to be made in goin' out on a hunt?
( Nero has been bringing in his share of the household funds by doing a bit of exterminating here and there, but going straight for the infected beasts could be a reasonable suggestion. If someone's willing to pay them for it, why not? )
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[He shifts a little, too, for the sake of a more comfortable position. It seems as though they are both committed to spending an ample time in the greenhouse for now.]
Your friend might not have any trouble with them. But I would suggest you keep to the city if you're not trained to fight.
[A pause, spoken so plainly that one might miss it for the joke it is-]
Are you sure you don’t want to begin a career in botany?
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( Bodyguarding? That could definitely be a lucrative source of income, and in her opinion there's no-one better suited to the job. While she'd probably not admit it to his face, his skill in monster hunting rivals her own in weapon smithing; between them, she doesn't see why they couldn't bring Devil May Cry to Aefenglom. A bit of advertising, a few impressive kills under their belts—
But then Sephiroth pops on his clown nose, and Nico just stares at him for a moment before feeling a smirk curve her lips. )
I dunno, you sure you don't wanna hang up your boots an' become a comedian?
( She flicks a little soil at him — you know, since they're both adults here. )
Your faith in me is real nice an' all, but flash-frying those flowers just the once was way more than enough for me.
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Fair enough. We'll make certain that doesn't happen again. I would hate for these bulbs to go to waste.
[And so they will; at this moment, at least, making certain there will be something in this planter to sprout, to look forward to, in the future.]
...Let's plant the rest.