In Your Eyes I Saw Hell
folder
Final Fantasy VII › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
979
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy VII › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
979
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Cat Got Your Tongue?
Chapter 3: Cat Got Your Tongue?
Reeve Tuesti sat behind his dark oak desk and heaved a sigh of frustration.
Of course he knew that it was far easier to tear down than to rebuild, but almost a year after Meteor saw Midgar nowhere near where it should be, and legal WRO funds were starting to run short.
A knock on his office door interrupted him, causing him to lose his place in the long list of figures he was calculating.
"Enter." He called out, dropping the papers with a frustrated sigh.
The heavy wooden door opened to reveal his secretary, one in the laundry list of ladies he'd gone through in four months. He wasn't a picky person, but he did feel that it was far easier to file by alphabet and not by what fruit the color coded file tabs reminded the person of. As such, he hadn't even bothered to learn the poor woman's name yet. Though he swore if she lasted through the week he would.
"Mr. Tuesti, sorry to disturb you, but I was informed that Mr. Valentine has failed to report for work this morning."
The bearded executive looked at his red headed aid with a rather pole axed expression.
"Failed to report?" He asked lamely.
"That's correct sir."
"But he's always here."
Reeve couldn't believe it. Vincent not coming to work was like Reno giving up booze, it simply wasn't heard of.
"Um, thanks for letting me know. I'll look into it."
When the secretary closed the door behind her, Reeve rummaged through is coat pockets for his PHS and automatically dialed Tifa at 7th Heaven.
Vincent himself had a WRO issue PHS that he rarely turned on, let alone used, and Tifa lived closest to the gunner's new house.
The phone was answered before the first ring had ended.
"He's here."
"Eh? Who's where, Tifa?" Reeve hadn't been prepared for her to answer the phone so quickly, so his brain was behind in responding.
"Vincent." The lilting voice on the other end replied. "He's sitting in my bar getting shitfaced."
The bewilderment that came through the tone of her voice was enough to give the older man pause.
"Ah, eh, did he say why?"
"No."
"Did he say anything?" His mind scrambling to come up with a quick solution, Reeve's fingers flew over the keyboard, firing off an e-mail to his aid stating that he would be indisposed until further notice.
"No greeting or anything. He just sank into a chair, demanded a bottle of scotch, and is now staring off at a wall."
"How long ago did he get there?"
"About a half hour now. And Reeve, almost half the bottle is gone."
The click of glasses in the background told him that Tifa was trying to be inconspicuous about observing their comrade.
Standing up to grab his long coat from the back of his chair, the executive shrugged into it and strode through his office.
"If the traffic holds I can be there in ten minutes. Don't let him move." Reeve finished before hanging up, slamming the door of his office behind him and making a mad dash down the hall.
The keys to his car jingled in his pocket as he raced down the stairs, elevators taking far too long for any trip.
From what Reeve knew of the man, Vincent had never been one to drink, even under the direst of circumstances. And given that it was only eleven thirty in the morning, made him feel like he'd stepped into Bizzaro World.
As he neared his old ShinRa issue black sedan, Reeve key coded the auto start feature and slid into the bucket seat. He took a moment to buckle himself in before squealing out of the parking garage.
Yes the fate of many lives lay on the papers on his desk, but that could wait a few hours. Right now there was nothing more important than his closest friend.
Reeve Tuesti sat behind his dark oak desk and heaved a sigh of frustration.
Of course he knew that it was far easier to tear down than to rebuild, but almost a year after Meteor saw Midgar nowhere near where it should be, and legal WRO funds were starting to run short.
A knock on his office door interrupted him, causing him to lose his place in the long list of figures he was calculating.
"Enter." He called out, dropping the papers with a frustrated sigh.
The heavy wooden door opened to reveal his secretary, one in the laundry list of ladies he'd gone through in four months. He wasn't a picky person, but he did feel that it was far easier to file by alphabet and not by what fruit the color coded file tabs reminded the person of. As such, he hadn't even bothered to learn the poor woman's name yet. Though he swore if she lasted through the week he would.
"Mr. Tuesti, sorry to disturb you, but I was informed that Mr. Valentine has failed to report for work this morning."
The bearded executive looked at his red headed aid with a rather pole axed expression.
"Failed to report?" He asked lamely.
"That's correct sir."
"But he's always here."
Reeve couldn't believe it. Vincent not coming to work was like Reno giving up booze, it simply wasn't heard of.
"Um, thanks for letting me know. I'll look into it."
When the secretary closed the door behind her, Reeve rummaged through is coat pockets for his PHS and automatically dialed Tifa at 7th Heaven.
Vincent himself had a WRO issue PHS that he rarely turned on, let alone used, and Tifa lived closest to the gunner's new house.
The phone was answered before the first ring had ended.
"He's here."
"Eh? Who's where, Tifa?" Reeve hadn't been prepared for her to answer the phone so quickly, so his brain was behind in responding.
"Vincent." The lilting voice on the other end replied. "He's sitting in my bar getting shitfaced."
The bewilderment that came through the tone of her voice was enough to give the older man pause.
"Ah, eh, did he say why?"
"No."
"Did he say anything?" His mind scrambling to come up with a quick solution, Reeve's fingers flew over the keyboard, firing off an e-mail to his aid stating that he would be indisposed until further notice.
"No greeting or anything. He just sank into a chair, demanded a bottle of scotch, and is now staring off at a wall."
"How long ago did he get there?"
"About a half hour now. And Reeve, almost half the bottle is gone."
The click of glasses in the background told him that Tifa was trying to be inconspicuous about observing their comrade.
Standing up to grab his long coat from the back of his chair, the executive shrugged into it and strode through his office.
"If the traffic holds I can be there in ten minutes. Don't let him move." Reeve finished before hanging up, slamming the door of his office behind him and making a mad dash down the hall.
The keys to his car jingled in his pocket as he raced down the stairs, elevators taking far too long for any trip.
From what Reeve knew of the man, Vincent had never been one to drink, even under the direst of circumstances. And given that it was only eleven thirty in the morning, made him feel like he'd stepped into Bizzaro World.
As he neared his old ShinRa issue black sedan, Reeve key coded the auto start feature and slid into the bucket seat. He took a moment to buckle himself in before squealing out of the parking garage.
Yes the fate of many lives lay on the papers on his desk, but that could wait a few hours. Right now there was nothing more important than his closest friend.