Cloud Strife pouted as he looked up at the Soldiers. It was the monthly 'cleaning' of the slums of Midgar, and the men roamed the streets in bands, rounding up his clientele. The basket of bright blooms at his side went unnoticed, and he sighed heavily. His 'Beat' had been sabotaged for the last time.
He grinned, fluffing his blond hair and standing straighter. The shaft of sunlight pouring from above from a gap in the Plates made his skin glow a healthy tan, and he giggled sweetly. It was afternoon then, if the sunlight was facing sector Four. He hoisted his basket higher, sashaying down the road, schooling his face into a scowl.
The General of ShinRa's forces watched the mayhem with uncaring eyes. His silver hair was tied back to keep it from getting mucky as he arrested yet another prostitute. She begged with him for freedom, but he just pushed her gently towards the waiting van.
A flash of yellow and black caught his eye and he turned, eyebrow raised. The young man sauntered right up to him, a defiant gleam in his glowing blue eyes. The basket on his hip was full, and he tilted his head challengingly. He marched right past him, and Sephiroth watched his hips sway.
He followed him, not knowing why he was drawn to the petite flower boy. His Soldiers just shrugged, chalking it up to one of his strange quirks. He watched the boy exchange a rich red bloom with a hooker for a palm full of gil, and a smile. He watched him sell only two more flowers before the streets went dead.
"Done eyeing me and scaring off my customers?" he asked absently as he sat on a fountain, crossing his ankles primly, folding his hands neatly as if he was in a business meeting.
"Oh? Is that what I was doing? I thought I was rounding up some riffraff that were plaguing the slums." He said, and the boy snorted. His prim words were suddenly colored in a distinctly northern accent and he realized he had been teased.
"Oh, puh-leeze, General. You were scaring us off and you know it. Now I have thirty five blooms to sell, and no one is buying. So what are you going to do about it?" he asked, still sitting primly. His blue eyes bored into Sephiroth with a coy smile. This boy knew how to fight dirty, that's for sure.
"Oh, it's my fault is it?" he asked, crossing his arms, trying to get the upper hand again. The boy was having none of it and scoffed, waving one hand in dismissal.
"Of course! By now I'm usually on my second basket. Looks like me and my sister won't be eating dinner tonight." He said with a long suffering sigh as he stood, taking the basket. "Nobody else is buying, after all."
Sephiroth scowled. How had this…this minx, gotten a hold on him? He pulled out his wallet. "How much?" he asked, not seeing the boy's smirk.
"Seven gil each." He said, and looked at him sideways. "Why, General? Have a girl somewhere?" he asked, arranging the thirty-five blooms neatly. It looked beautiful in the synthetic light of the slums.
"maybe." He said, handing over the cash for the bouquet. The boy smiled sweetly at him, sauntering away, and waving cheerily.
"Thanks, General. Have a nice day!" he chirped, just before he slipped down an alley and breaking into a silent run so as to be around the corner by the time Sephiroth caught up.
Sephiroth stood there looking flummoxed, holding the spray and gaping. This….boy! Had gotten the best of him! His friend and second, Zack Fair, came up with a grin, tucking a camera away.
"So, Seph, I see you've met the Flower Boy." He said, grinning. Sephiroth just glared at him, thrusting the flowers at him. "For me? Sorry, but I don't like you like that." He deadpanned and Sephiroth growled.
"Give them to your damned girlfriend, Zack. I've got to go…plan." The next time they met, he would not be caught unprepared.
Sephcounttheways was rping with me on Deviantart as Sephiroth. I'm sure that it looked better there, but I have less than an hour to type and post soooo….yeah. Just the beginning chapter to a story that's been bugging me to write it…maybe we can meet up again and finish it or rehash it. Prolly gonna be reposted at some point.
Rabid.