Who's to say I don't trust you? I'm a trusting guy.
（ it's said lightly, playful and warm. ）
But no, you're right. Since it's Sasuke I'm concerned with, it's more logical for me to sub. There's something you should know about me first, though. Brace ya'self for some weird shit.
（ knives are hard to come by here, but with stiles gone, the one from their ill-fated foray in the elevator with one of those fucking paintings has been reclaimed into his custody. there's a flicker of a dark, corruptive magic and then the blade appears in one hand. another man may have turned it into a power move, but cy's careful to keep it visible, fingers relaxed and open in a way that makes his grip lax on the handle, and it's in the hand furthest from tseng.
don't surprise a dude who's worked in torture: kinda a golden rule. the knife gets a little 'pay attention' wobble, and then cy brings his other hand over to it, and although he could make the point with something a little less dramatic than what he's about to do, he wants to be very clear about his meaning when he explains.
which is why he just stabs the knife through his own fucking hand. it's one of those things that'd be impossible to fake even with sleight of hand or pure magician trickery, and he then holds the impaled hand out for tseng to inspect. seeing is believing. ）
You fancy pullin' it out?
（ there's no strain in his voice. no sense of being subsumed by pain or discomfort. it's not that he doesn't feel pain, it's that it's just fucking irrelevant to him, so. there you have it. if or when tseng does as he's asked, the wound will begin to heal immediately, though the blood will linger like a kiss. ）
A trusting guy and a bonafide pacifist. [ there's an amused quirk to tseng's mouth—he's teasing, a little. ] And a lover rather than a fighter, I'm guessing.
[ he nods his agreement with cy's words, then pauses to watch—to brace himself, as it were, for some weird shit.
if he's honest, tseng is not expecting a knife to be pulled out of some—strange, terrible pocket of space. tseng has seen magic enough to know that it's possible, but he's not expecting to see it here, and for that reason it does put him on his guard. immediately, though, it's clear that cy is handling it in a way intentionally meant to keep tseng's hackles down, keeping it visible, keeping it in his far hand. "don't surprise a dude who's worked in torture" is a good golden rule, and tseng appreciates the consideration.
he takes a long drag on his cigarette, watches cy lift the knife, and tracks its progress as it plunges straight through the meat of his hand. he doesn't flinch, but his brows do draw together briefly as cy reaches out and tells him to pull. a quick turn of his head away to exhale smoke, and then tseng reaches out to pull the knife free in one quick, efficient movement. the wound begins to close almost immediately, muscle and tendon and flesh knitting itself back together, flayed edges of skin disappearing without so much as a scar. ]
I see. [ tseng flips the knife and offers it back to cy, handle-first. ] You have a flair for showmanship.
[ for a moment tseng's gaze remains where it is, fixed on cy's hand, his mind running miles per minute. would that he had his notebook here, so he could keep these thoughts elsewhere than his own brain. then he glances back up to meet cy's gaze, considering. ]
I'm familiar with the concept of healing magic, although admittedly on Gaia it would require the use of materia to achieve. I take it you're showing me this so I understand why any injury I do to you will heal immediately? [ finally, tseng licks his fingertips, pinches out the end of his cigarette, and tucks the butt back into the pack. no littering. ] Is it inherent to you? Your magic.
（ the comment about showmanship makes him sketch an elegant bow, and as he rises he's grinning faintly — ）
Got it in one.
（ he takes the knife, wipes the blood off absent-mindedly on his shirt sleeve — dark enough to conceal it in any such case — and then the knife vanishes again. he doesn't like holding the fucking thing more than necessary. ）
You can't do anything to me that won't heal immediately. Even if you'd left the knife there, my body would've pushed it out as it healed around it, so you can trust me when I say I'm hardier than most.
（ and yet, not a masochist. some people have made the mistake of assuming he must be, just by nature of the healing — but those people don't really understand how preferences are born. ）
Yep. Can't be taken, disrupted, sealed, or whatever else people can think of. All me, baby.
[ for another long moment tseng is silent, absorbing. his own body beneath his clothes is a patchwork of scars, a story of trauma and conflict that traces very nearly his entire life. the crush injuries from the pillar that trapped him; the bullet scars from the guns in junon; any number of wounds from a blade that come part and parcel in a turk's job. he thinks, also, of standing in front of shinra's kangaroo court and being sentenced to the firing squad; how much less important would his decisions have seemed if he knew he would stand up and walk away regardless? it's hard for him to imagine, and he can't decide if it would be a blessing or a curse. ]
Does it hurt regardless? [ is the only question tseng ultimately asks. nothing about cy's voice or face had given away any pain, but tseng knows from experience that there's a difference between not feeling pain and having experienced so much pain that the sensation no longer matters.
of course there will be other questions, later, once tseng has had a chance to put thought to paper and think through the implications of it all; whether or not cy answers them is up to him and how much of an open book he truly feels like being. ]
All right. I'll take it under advisement. [ he turns slightly in an offer to keep walking if cy wants. tseng's expression is still thoughtful, but he's certainly not bothered by the revelation, only considering. ] Would you rather we do this in my suite or at the Naked Yolk? My suite is plenty suitable, but I also have the rank to make a reservation at almost any time, so it's up to you.
（ no point in not being honest. if he's going to trust sasuke with this guy, he ought to offer him that much. there's nothing of his own history that he wouldn't spill between them like an act of evisceration if it served sasuke some purpose.
but it's not said with any especial flippancy or nonchalance — that would only make it seem fuckin' twee. it's just matter-of-fact. ）
Your suite's fine. You're what, a Jack? While I'm sure you can handle the scrutiny or you wouldn't've suggested it, let me fall on my sword for you on that one — the less attention we garner from the House the better.
[ blegh, scrutiny. being noticeable is by far the worst part of his rank, and so tseng has learned to mitigate it in other ways, namely by being as uninteresting as possible everywhere he can. he goes to the casino and gambles a perfectly reasonable amount, winning no more often than is average for a reasonably good player; he goes to restaurants and to the marketplace and buys only the basics; he avoids saying anything incriminating anywhere that can draw attention.
the naked yolk, of course, is already aware of him and his proclivities, considering the birthday gift they arranged for him a few weeks ago, but while he knows the staff are reasonably discreet, they are also employees of the house and untrustworthy by default. besides, he understands the desire to avoid having eyes on them even by association. ]
I'll send you the location. [ he's sure cy could find it on his own, but it's the symbolism of the thing. not that cy could know it, but an invitation into a turk's personal living quarters is nothing to sneeze at. ] The staff on the [ this sentence is so stupid ] penthouse floors are already aware of Sasuke, though. I had to tell them to let him through.
Ah, I don't need to worry about the staff. My other trick is teleportation with the power of （ wait for it, because he makes the world's most fucking dramatic Jazz HandsTM. ） math.
（ look,,, ）
So I can just show up on your doorstep. Scout's honour I won't abuse the hospitality.
[ well. between this and calling tseng a baby at thirty-one years old, tseng is starting to feel like he has more questions than he does answers. on the other hand, teleportation in a man who just stabbed himself through the hand to demonstrate his healing factor probably shouldn't surprise him.
tseng does pinch the bridge of his nose, then laughs briefly, then shakes his head. ] All right, I'll take you at your word. Just let me know before you appear in my living room.
[ because this thread started right before aerith left, tseng still has cause not to want someone dropping in on him at random—but give him three days and he won't care. ]
Whenever suits you. It's not like we have structured schedules here.
[ which, for a guy who has almost a full year of pto banked because he never takes a fucking day off, has been quite the adjustment indeed. what do you mean he's not on the clock? ]
If you'd like to do it sooner than later, sometime in the next couple of weeks might be ideal.
（ an easy shrug, a roll of his shoulders that seems lax and boneless. he doesn't hold tension in any part of himself, really. ）
Let's do it in a week. We can do our negotiations after you've had some time to think things through. I'll talk to Sasuke about my side, maybe you two can discuss something you'd like to try together, and then you and I can do a dry run and see how it lands.
A week sounds good. I'm sure Sasuke will tell you once we've had a chance to discuss, but I'll send you a message as well.
[ keep everybody in the loop and such. after a second, not wanting to overstep but trying out something new in terms of, like, making connections with people, tseng adds, ]
You're also welcome to visit just to visit, or if you're in the mood for dinner. I'm not bad in the kitchen.
[ is it strange, that the exaggerated flirtation somehow makes it easier for tseng to respond? he would have no idea what to do if cy were flirting like he meant it, but this, he can figure out. ]
Where's the fun in letting you know all my secrets up front? [ he lifts an eyebrow in return, then smiles slightly. ] I don't eat meat either, given a choice, so you'll be in good company.
[ he'll eat what's served to him at someone else's dinner, and if he likes you well enough he'll cook meat, but left to his own devices tseng also prefers a vegetarian diet. ]
( cy makes a little pew-pew fingerguns gesture at him, and then sweeps one arm out in an expansive gesture as they reach a fork in the path. )
This is me. Off to fleece the casino for my poor little slut allowance. Maybe I'll show up on ya doorstep in a day or two like a starving waif chirping for the good lord Diamond Jack to feed me. Or maybe not. Mystery helps to keep the romance alive.
( he gives tseng a lazy little salute — and if the man has no further questions and doesn't try to stop him, cy will carry blithely onward. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Who's to say I don't trust you? I'm a trusting guy.
（ it's said lightly, playful and warm. ）
But no, you're right. Since it's Sasuke I'm concerned with, it's more logical for me to sub. There's something you should know about me first, though. Brace ya'self for some weird shit.
（ knives are hard to come by here, but with stiles gone, the one from their ill-fated foray in the elevator with one of those fucking paintings has been reclaimed into his custody. there's a flicker of a dark, corruptive magic and then the blade appears in one hand. another man may have turned it into a power move, but cy's careful to keep it visible, fingers relaxed and open in a way that makes his grip lax on the handle, and it's in the hand furthest from tseng.
don't surprise a dude who's worked in torture: kinda a golden rule. the knife gets a little 'pay attention' wobble, and then cy brings his other hand over to it, and although he could make the point with something a little less dramatic than what he's about to do, he wants to be very clear about his meaning when he explains.
which is why he just stabs the knife through his own fucking hand. it's one of those things that'd be impossible to fake even with sleight of hand or pure magician trickery, and he then holds the impaled hand out for tseng to inspect. seeing is believing. ）
You fancy pullin' it out?
（ there's no strain in his voice. no sense of being subsumed by pain or discomfort. it's not that he doesn't feel pain, it's that it's just fucking irrelevant to him, so. there you have it. if or when tseng does as he's asked, the wound will begin to heal immediately, though the blood will linger like a kiss. ）
no subject
[ he nods his agreement with cy's words, then pauses to watch—to brace himself, as it were, for some weird shit.
if he's honest, tseng is not expecting a knife to be pulled out of some—strange, terrible pocket of space. tseng has seen magic enough to know that it's possible, but he's not expecting to see it here, and for that reason it does put him on his guard. immediately, though, it's clear that cy is handling it in a way intentionally meant to keep tseng's hackles down, keeping it visible, keeping it in his far hand. "don't surprise a dude who's worked in torture" is a good golden rule, and tseng appreciates the consideration.
he takes a long drag on his cigarette, watches cy lift the knife, and tracks its progress as it plunges straight through the meat of his hand. he doesn't flinch, but his brows do draw together briefly as cy reaches out and tells him to pull. a quick turn of his head away to exhale smoke, and then tseng reaches out to pull the knife free in one quick, efficient movement. the wound begins to close almost immediately, muscle and tendon and flesh knitting itself back together, flayed edges of skin disappearing without so much as a scar. ]
I see. [ tseng flips the knife and offers it back to cy, handle-first. ] You have a flair for showmanship.
[ for a moment tseng's gaze remains where it is, fixed on cy's hand, his mind running miles per minute. would that he had his notebook here, so he could keep these thoughts elsewhere than his own brain. then he glances back up to meet cy's gaze, considering. ]
I'm familiar with the concept of healing magic, although admittedly on Gaia it would require the use of materia to achieve. I take it you're showing me this so I understand why any injury I do to you will heal immediately? [ finally, tseng licks his fingertips, pinches out the end of his cigarette, and tucks the butt back into the pack. no littering. ] Is it inherent to you? Your magic.
no subject
Got it in one.
（ he takes the knife, wipes the blood off absent-mindedly on his shirt sleeve — dark enough to conceal it in any such case — and then the knife vanishes again. he doesn't like holding the fucking thing more than necessary. ）
You can't do anything to me that won't heal immediately. Even if you'd left the knife there, my body would've pushed it out as it healed around it, so you can trust me when I say I'm hardier than most.
（ and yet, not a masochist. some people have made the mistake of assuming he must be, just by nature of the healing — but those people don't really understand how preferences are born. ）
Yep. Can't be taken, disrupted, sealed, or whatever else people can think of. All me, baby.
no subject
Does it hurt regardless? [ is the only question tseng ultimately asks. nothing about cy's voice or face had given away any pain, but tseng knows from experience that there's a difference between not feeling pain and having experienced so much pain that the sensation no longer matters.
of course there will be other questions, later, once tseng has had a chance to put thought to paper and think through the implications of it all; whether or not cy answers them is up to him and how much of an open book he truly feels like being. ]
All right. I'll take it under advisement. [ he turns slightly in an offer to keep walking if cy wants. tseng's expression is still thoughtful, but he's certainly not bothered by the revelation, only considering. ] Would you rather we do this in my suite or at the Naked Yolk? My suite is plenty suitable, but I also have the rank to make a reservation at almost any time, so it's up to you.
no subject
（ no point in not being honest. if he's going to trust sasuke with this guy, he ought to offer him that much. there's nothing of his own history that he wouldn't spill between them like an act of evisceration if it served sasuke some purpose.
but it's not said with any especial flippancy or nonchalance — that would only make it seem fuckin' twee. it's just matter-of-fact. ）
Your suite's fine. You're what, a Jack? While I'm sure you can handle the scrutiny or you wouldn't've suggested it, let me fall on my sword for you on that one — the less attention we garner from the House the better.
no subject
[ blegh, scrutiny. being noticeable is by far the worst part of his rank, and so tseng has learned to mitigate it in other ways, namely by being as uninteresting as possible everywhere he can. he goes to the casino and gambles a perfectly reasonable amount, winning no more often than is average for a reasonably good player; he goes to restaurants and to the marketplace and buys only the basics; he avoids saying anything incriminating anywhere that can draw attention.
the naked yolk, of course, is already aware of him and his proclivities, considering the birthday gift they arranged for him a few weeks ago, but while he knows the staff are reasonably discreet, they are also employees of the house and untrustworthy by default. besides, he understands the desire to avoid having eyes on them even by association. ]
I'll send you the location. [ he's sure cy could find it on his own, but it's the symbolism of the thing. not that cy could know it, but an invitation into a turk's personal living quarters is nothing to sneeze at. ] The staff on the [ this sentence is so stupid ] penthouse floors are already aware of Sasuke, though. I had to tell them to let him through.
no subject
（ look,,, ）
So I can just show up on your doorstep. Scout's honour I won't abuse the hospitality.
no subject
[ well. between this and calling tseng a baby at thirty-one years old, tseng is starting to feel like he has more questions than he does answers. on the other hand, teleportation in a man who just stabbed himself through the hand to demonstrate his healing factor probably shouldn't surprise him.
tseng does pinch the bridge of his nose, then laughs briefly, then shakes his head. ] All right, I'll take you at your word. Just let me know before you appear in my living room.
[ because this thread started right before aerith left, tseng still has cause not to want someone dropping in on him at random—but give him three days and he won't care. ]
no subject
（ and since tseng probably doesn't know it, cy just whistles a jaunty little tune aloud. ）
You got a timeframe for out hot date, buddyguy?
no subject
[ which, for a guy who has almost a full year of pto banked because he never takes a fucking day off, has been quite the adjustment indeed. what do you mean he's not on the clock? ]
If you'd like to do it sooner than later, sometime in the next couple of weeks might be ideal.
no subject
（ an easy shrug, a roll of his shoulders that seems lax and boneless. he doesn't hold tension in any part of himself, really. ）
Let's do it in a week. We can do our negotiations after you've had some time to think things through. I'll talk to Sasuke about my side, maybe you two can discuss something you'd like to try together, and then you and I can do a dry run and see how it lands.
no subject
[ keep everybody in the loop and such. after a second, not wanting to overstep but trying out something new in terms of, like, making connections with people, tseng adds, ]
You're also welcome to visit just to visit, or if you're in the mood for dinner. I'm not bad in the kitchen.
no subject
Well, ( in the most wildly southern accent in all the land, ) I say, I do declare. I never would've taken you for a man of such vaunted domesticity.
( he drops the act with a broad wink, and then: )
Sure, can't hurt. I'm a vegetarian, for the record - team 'don't care if you eat meat though'.
no subject
Where's the fun in letting you know all my secrets up front? [ he lifts an eyebrow in return, then smiles slightly. ] I don't eat meat either, given a choice, so you'll be in good company.
[ he'll eat what's served to him at someone else's dinner, and if he likes you well enough he'll cook meat, but left to his own devices tseng also prefers a vegetarian diet. ]
no subject
( cy makes a little pew-pew fingerguns gesture at him, and then sweeps one arm out in an expansive gesture as they reach a fork in the path. )
This is me. Off to fleece the casino for my poor little slut allowance. Maybe I'll show up on ya doorstep in a day or two like a starving waif chirping for the good lord Diamond Jack to feed me. Or maybe not. Mystery helps to keep the romance alive.
( he gives tseng a lazy little salute — and if the man has no further questions and doesn't try to stop him, cy will carry blithely onward. )