Scratch small; the bar was downright tiny, with a total of three tables and a bar that could accomodate four if people didn't mind sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. It looked like a dead night tonight, which suited the WRO president just fine. Quiet was something he needed. Not necessarily solitude- God knew he got enough of that- but just some peace and quiet.
"... Reeve Tuesti?"
The voice came from the far corner; he turned towards it, and a grudging half-smile spead across his face. "Heh. Vincent Valentine. This is a surprise." He scratched his close-cropped beard for a second before pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Well, Lord knows I could use someone to keep me from getting smashed- guess you're elected by default."
"Hmph." Vincent was... well, he was his usual self; nice to know some things never changed. Red cloak about his shoulders, messy hair barely kept in place with a worn-out rag he called a headband, and ruby eyes that seemed to glow in the shadows- oh yes, this was the former Turk at his most stoic. He nudged a shot glass towards Reeve with his massive golden claw, his other hand holding up a half-empty bottle of Scotch in a silent inquery. Reeve nodded once, and the gunslinger began to pour. "I almost didn't recognize you," he said, the corner of his lips tugged up in the barest of smiles. "Decided to be human tonight?"
Reeve grinned and raised the shot glass in a half-toast before tossing it down. That was a pleasant sensation- the smooth burn of the alcohol warmed his insides in a way the fireplace across the room couldn't. "Well, Cait Sith needed a tune up and... heh. Well, let's just say I decided to play pretend for a bit."
Vincent raised an eyebrow, tilting the bottle again; Reeve gladly accepted a refill. "And this is pretend time?" He watched the other lift his own shot glass delicately with his clawed fingertips; oh yes, this was definitely classic Vincent. Calm, cool, collected, and unable to recognize a good joke even if it ran up and bit him in the ass. Of course, with him there was always the chance that he'd bite back. Reeve grinned even wider at the thought.
"Can't put anything past those Turk reflexes, huh? What's wrong with just wanting to be myself for a change?" He downed the second shot even faster than the first, held the glass out for another- then stopped and eyed his drinking companion critically. "C'mon. Be honest with me. Don't you ever get tired of hiding behind a mask?"
The dark-haired man paused for a second, glancing towards the bartender with a nod, then gave the WRO president a coolly neutral look. "I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, bullshit." He grabbed the nearly-empty bottle away and poured himself a third shot. "You're always behind a mask, Valentine. A pretentious and angsting mask at that!"
He thought for a moment that the gunslinger's face had twitched; it was so damn hard to read his expressions behind that cloak! His eyes grew hard for a second. "And you're a grown man who pretends to be a stuffed animal. What's your point, Tuesti?"
Reeve scowled, then shook his head with a short bark of laughter. Well, at least he'd gotten his companion to exercise his wit, if nothing else. "Touche! Anyway, who says I have to have a point? I'm just curious, is all." He nodded distractedly at the bartender as he sat a another bottle of Scotch at his elbow.
Vincent remained silent; his gauntlet was still raised halfway to his face, the shot glass dangling from it half-full. "What if this isn't a mask? This could very well be the real me." He put the glass down, considered it for a second, then refilled his shot glass. "More?"
"Bullshit," he repeated, his hand instantly shooting out for another round. "I know masks, Mr. Valentine. And I know a good one when I see one. You've got a hell of a poker face, but your eyes give everything away." He smirked at the astonished look that briefly flitted across the other's face- or what he could see of it. "You should know this, Mr. ex-Turk. Reading people used to be part of your job, wasn't it?"
"..." Vincent's silences spoke volumes to those that knew him; this one was a neon red 'warning' sign. "Explain yourself, Tuesti." He finally drained his half-finished drink- Reeve could see a flash of full lips, the hard curve of his chin, the muscles of his neck throb as he swallowed- and then it was gone, back behind the cowl. Dammit.
He watched the other man reluctantly filled his glass with the amber whiskey, the dim lights of the room playing off its surface. He shook it slighhtly; the liquid rippled, making the reflected light dance. "I know it's not the real you just like I know that Cait Sith isn't the real me. Cait Sith started out as a joke, an experiment in robotics. Then... well, he was useful. People liked the little guy. So I expounded upon him, fleshed him out a little more- and put part of myself into him. Before long, he was me- the me that most people saw outside of Shinra."
"Heh. And then you turned traitor." The comment was a mild rebuke, a bit of dry humor, but it hurt a bit. Just beause it was true didn't make it any less scathing; Valentine's wit was as dry as the desert, Reeve mused, and sometimes just as uncomfortable.
"Yeah, yeah, I betrayed AVALANCHE, I betrayed Shinra- whatever. It's like you- ancient history." That one cause a reciprocating wince from the older man. Ah, well, tit for tat; it waAs a small victory- and a bittersweet one as well. "Look. With you guys, I was Cait Sith, cat on the prowl- the playful side of me. With Shinra, I was Reeve Tuesti, head of Urban Development, the person responsible for keeping Shinra from stomping everyone flat under its boots. You can't be personable in Shinra; it was a dog-eat-dog world. So I built another mask, just to keep up a pretense of being cool and collected.
"And now I'm Reeve Tuesti, president of the WRO, champion of the world and defender of the underpriviledged, blah blah blah. It's another mask. And another. After a while, you get tired of it! Am I right?"
Vincent was just staring at him, eyes narrowed into some sort of scowl- at least, that what he thought it was. It was so damn hard to tell! "It's like taking a piece of yourself and turning it into an entirely new person. After a while, there's so many facets that- aw, fuck it!" The mask was in full force, impenetrable as a fortress wall, and Reeve threw his hands up in the air in disgust. "You're not even listening, are you?"
The gunslinger made a grunt that could have been a yes or no. Reeve pushed off to his feet, the whiskey forgotten in a rush of irritation. He was spilling his guts out, and the bastard wasn't even being polite enough to give him a simple yes or no! "Shit. What the hell was I thinking? You don't wear a mask; you fuckin' are a mask! Dunno why the hell I ever thought you'd understand-"
The sudden hurt that flashed through those crimson eyes was like a punch to the gut. He'd seen it before- they'd all seen it before, he was so easy to wound- but never in person; always, he'd seen through robotic eyes. Robotic eyes couldn't catch the detail- the startled flutter of his eyelashes, the dismayed widening of the pupils, the crinkle in the skin where his eyes widened at the edges; it was over in a split second and Reeve wasn't sure if he'd seen it in the first place. He opened his mouth, shut it, then turned away with a grimace. No sense in trying to apologize. He'd only stick his foot in his mouth again, and-
"Wait."
Reeve turned and slowly looked over his shoulder, where Vincent was still sitting as still as he was when he'd gotten up. His right hand raised up to the collar of his cloak- and he began to unfasten it, still looking determinedly away from the other. He began to speak in a low, hesitant voice. "Sometimes... when you wear masks for too long..." He loosened the cloak and pushed it over the back of the chair; Reeve could clearly see the slope of his jaw, the way he licked his lips before speaking, as if tasting out his next words. The claw came up and hooked into his bandanna, pulling it off in one quick motion. "... you start to forget..." Long strands of jet-black hair came tumbling down to frame his shoulders, and he turned his naked face to the WRO president. "... which one is your real face."
Reeve paused, biting his lower lip in indecision- then reached out and fingered a lock of his long hair, threading it between rough fingers. The confused look he received made him break out into a laugh. "Does this mean I have to start taking stuff off too?"
Vincent stared at him for a full second before his eyes lit up and his full lips curved into a small, genuine smile. He swatted the other man's hand away. "Don't push your luck, Reeve."
He shrugged, letting go with a laugh, and sat back down. It wasn't perfect- the mask wasn't completely broken- but it was a start. And that was good enough for him.
Well. This was a weird one to write. Done at work, in between rushing around fixing telephones and checking in guests. I'm not that familiar with Reeve- he doesn't exactly have a huge role in FFVII outside of being Cait Sith, and I'm waiting for the US release of Dirge of Cerberus- but he seems the type to be more thoughtful and contemplative. Maybe playful. Impulsive. We only see two sides of him, kitty-side and Shinra-side, so there's plenty of other facets to explore. And Vincent... do I really need to explain him:3 Anyway, lemme know what you think. Expansion fics are always a possibility. ;)