[ Tseng's expression barely shifts, but there’s a subtle lift to his brow. He lets silence settle deliberately this time, moments during which Tseng thinks she's hoping to be dismissed by him as forgetful rather than calculating. Much kinder than a pest. Truthfully, he can’t say for certain which it is—he isn’t a mind reader. He doesn’t need to be. He knows her well enough, their history stretching far too long for her intentions to be entirely opaque. ]
You forgot your scarf.
[ He repeats it, dryly. He feels the corner tightening around him, and that's one of the hardest things to stand. The point of escorting her home was to ensure she stayed there—not to have her doubling back alone. Tseng pulls the car to the side of the road. The doors are still locked all around. His eyes shift to Aerith, less sharp and unmistakably weary. He doesn't bother concealing it. ]
Alright. [ There’s no fanfare in his response, resigned but firm. Tseng steers the car into a tight turn, heading back the way they came. His focus is on the road ahead...back, but from the corner of his eye, he watches her. ]
[ Indignance flares in the face of his exasperation, although for the time being Aerith manages to keep that rise of annoyance tamped down and tucked away, save for the newfound sharpness lingering at the corners of her eyes when she narrows them. The duality of her motivations is particularly odd one – the greedy want to stall, to prolong, to give herself another hour to steal glances in his direction, and the obstinance that begs to point out that if certain giant companies could just back off and let her have her own life, the whereabouts of her scarf wouldn't be anyone else's problem but her own.
However rankled, she still straightens in her seat after Tseng pulls the car over to send a tired, annoyed, look in her direction before turning the vehicle back around. The softer side of her decision dims like her sense of enjoyment from stealing more of his time, and Aerith huffs audibly as her gaze returns to the view ahead, aware he's still looking and grimacing doubly so because of it. She's the Ancient, the Asset, and Tseng is only here to make sure her value to Shinra doesn't depreciate on account of a little peril, not because he wants to be. ]
It's a safe trip.
[ They both know why she points that out, just like they both must know it's pointless. Tseng would never willingly drive away and leave her if he thought she would head right back out again once he did. Settling back against the seat, she crosses her arms, not bothering to meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. ]
[ He catches the edge in her narrowed eyes even at this angled view, obstinacy cloaked in politeness. Her huff is layered, and Tseng knows better than to dismiss it as simple annoyance. The air in the car thickens to something acrid quickly in their silence, even though it had just been made so sweet with the wind of her healing. His weariness seeps in, clouding his thoughts with half-buried truths. He wishes he could pretend her resistance is born of temporary frustration, something fleeting. Tseng stays silent for a long moment. ]
You know I can't ignore it.
[ His answer is just as redundant to be said out loud. He can't admit how often he tells himself it's not just Shinra who wants Aerith safe, or instead even claim that it is her mother's worry that drives him—tonight literally. That lie feels truly hollow and gives him no comfort. The line between concern and obligation blurs too easily when it comes to her. And the decision to speak next is also hers, as always.
His gaze drifts to the side more earnestly, but long enough to see the way she's crossed her arms against him. ]
[ A tart remark that's even more layered than the huff that preceded it, and twice as sharp. A comment she almost regrets making just as soon as the words leave her mouth. He'll see that in the mirror, should he elect to her look her way, how her eyes round, apprehensive and not without a generous dash of sadness. It's disconcerting to be upset by the thought that he's grown tired of being with her that evening, and it slips through the cracks enough to show.
Silence stretches long enough for her stomach to knot grimly as they pass beneath the long stop light without stopping. ]
Besides. [ An olive branch, not a white flag. ] You're acting like I have a curfew.
[ Her words bite, and though he's conditioned not to react outwardly, Tseng feels them lodge beneath his skin. Not readily seeking her out in the mirror, when he does, rounded eyes return him right to the moment before Aerith confessed her missing scarf. Thinking ahead, perhaps he should’ve delegated this task to Reno or Rude—to spare her his flash of frustration. Such a small thing to protect her from, but safeguarding her remains his duty in black and white
In the time he lets her remarks fully simmer, tension winds back across Tseng's shoulders. He's tired, but in a way sleep can fix, and wills the sullen look from his face as he catches his own reflection. He reaches for her olive branch. ]
You don't. [ No but, his hand, too, stays outstretched. ] Take your time to collect anything else you may have forgotten.
[ If it were anybody else, she wouldn't have been above not caring how exasperated she made him. Shinra has taken enough from Aerith that she's in the clear as far as being impolite goes. But, as he turns to face her, and she realizes how tired Tseng looks, Aerith feels just the slightest twinge of guilt drawing the evening out.
Her head bobs in a curt nod before the car door closes, and she disappears into the bar again.
Back in under five minutes with her scarf wrapped around her neck, she climbs into the car more carefully than she left. That extra note of care is explained as soon as she settles enough to pass him the cup of coffee. ] Because I bet you're not going to let me invite you to stay over and get some rest.
[ Faint traces of Aerith's flower-sweet presence linger in the car. His gaze drifts out toward the bar's entrance. As the engine idles quietly beneath dim lights, Tseng's eyes fall shut for a breath too long. With his left hand light on the wheel, he covers the smooth face of his watch with his thumb, counting the quiet seconds by feel.
His gaze lifts the instant she reappears, sooner than anticipated, and he watches as she crosses the street with purposeful steps. Tseng accepts the cup without a word. He lets warmth seep into his fingers, rather than drinking it just yet. There's something faintly self-effacing in his expression when she says why. ]
Thank you. [ The coffee isn't necessary, strictly speaking—but Aerith always seems to know when practicality isn't the point. ] You didn't have to. [ It's not admonishment. The sharp edges of weariness are dulled, and Tseng's focus ebbs just enough to suggest that his mind isn't entirely occupied with the task at hand, of hurrying her home. ]
[ He lifts the coffee away, freeing her hand up to wave dismissively at him after Tseng tells her she wasn't obligated to bring him anything. ]
It's the least I can do, isn't it? Considering how I'm keeping you up late.
[ If Aerith stopped to think about it, she would notice her own sleepiness beginning to encroach, but she's too busy trying to push aside that pang of remorse that lingers on the edge of her consciousness, a reminder that he'll drive her home quickly, and that will be that.
Her efforts aren't good enough to stave off the tightness in her jaw, or the dour look in her eyes that contradicts the bright tone of voice she's been trying for ever since she returned to the car. The thought of how wrong she was to think he wanted to draw this out as much as she did sitting heavy on her mind, ignoring all attempts to push past it. ]
[ He puts the cup in the console holder. Keeping him up late isn’t the problem, he’d like to tell her. He should sound grateful and mild, but all that Tseng manages is factuality. ]
But you didn’t need to go out of your way. [ For the coffee. Or his, with the scarf.
As much as he tries to speak free of sentiment or reprimand, this is as redundant as telling her not to stay out late at all. There’s only so much he can (and will) do. Of course, she’ll cut a hole in the fence of her boundaries, only to fall back into the moat the Turks keep digging deeper and wider around her. It’s a small concession that this isn’t their first night to end like this, and Tseng has slept on an even more bitter conscience. ]
I’m taking you home now. [ He says, coinciding with her unsung awareness that the night needs to end here. He’ll bring her to Leaf House; Tseng takes the street with the long red light again. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
you do, do you want some slippers, something to drink?
Date: 2024-11-28 12:07 am (UTC)You forgot your scarf.
[ He repeats it, dryly. He feels the corner tightening around him, and that's one of the hardest things to stand. The point of escorting her home was to ensure she stayed there—not to have her doubling back alone. Tseng pulls the car to the side of the road. The doors are still locked all around. His eyes shift to Aerith, less sharp and unmistakably weary. He doesn't bother concealing it. ]
Alright. [ There’s no fanfare in his response, resigned but firm. Tseng steers the car into a tight turn, heading back the way they came. His focus is on the road ahead...back, but from the corner of his eye, he watches her. ]
and a big comfy chair svp
Date: 2024-11-30 12:41 am (UTC)However rankled, she still straightens in her seat after Tseng pulls the car over to send a tired, annoyed, look in her direction before turning the vehicle back around. The softer side of her decision dims like her sense of enjoyment from stealing more of his time, and Aerith huffs audibly as her gaze returns to the view ahead, aware he's still looking and grimacing doubly so because of it. She's the Ancient, the Asset, and Tseng is only here to make sure her value to Shinra doesn't depreciate on account of a little peril, not because he wants to be. ]
It's a safe trip.
[ They both know why she points that out, just like they both must know it's pointless. Tseng would never willingly drive away and leave her if he thought she would head right back out again once he did. Settling back against the seat, she crosses her arms, not bothering to meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. ]
at once! 🫡
Date: 2024-12-01 06:47 pm (UTC)You know I can't ignore it.
[ His answer is just as redundant to be said out loud. He can't admit how often he tells himself it's not just Shinra who wants Aerith safe, or instead even claim that it is her mother's worry that drives him—tonight literally. That lie feels truly hollow and gives him no comfort. The line between concern and obligation blurs too easily when it comes to her. And the decision to speak next is also hers, as always.
His gaze drifts to the side more earnestly, but long enough to see the way she's crossed her arms against him. ]
no subject
Date: 2024-12-03 02:03 am (UTC)[ A tart remark that's even more layered than the huff that preceded it, and twice as sharp. A comment she almost regrets making just as soon as the words leave her mouth. He'll see that in the mirror, should he elect to her look her way, how her eyes round, apprehensive and not without a generous dash of sadness. It's disconcerting to be upset by the thought that he's grown tired of being with her that evening, and it slips through the cracks enough to show.
Silence stretches long enough for her stomach to knot grimly as they pass beneath the long stop light without stopping. ]
Besides. [ An olive branch, not a white flag. ] You're acting like I have a curfew.
no subject
Date: 2024-12-03 08:26 pm (UTC)In the time he lets her remarks fully simmer, tension winds back across Tseng's shoulders. He's tired, but in a way sleep can fix, and wills the sullen look from his face as he catches his own reflection. He reaches for her olive branch. ]
You don't. [ No but, his hand, too, stays outstretched. ] Take your time to collect anything else you may have forgotten.
no subject
Date: 2024-12-07 03:25 am (UTC)Her head bobs in a curt nod before the car door closes, and she disappears into the bar again.
Back in under five minutes with her scarf wrapped around her neck, she climbs into the car more carefully than she left. That extra note of care is explained as soon as she settles enough to pass him the cup of coffee. ] Because I bet you're not going to let me invite you to stay over and get some rest.
no subject
Date: 2024-12-09 12:30 am (UTC)His gaze lifts the instant she reappears, sooner than anticipated, and he watches as she crosses the street with purposeful steps. Tseng accepts the cup without a word. He lets warmth seep into his fingers, rather than drinking it just yet. There's something faintly self-effacing in his expression when she says why. ]
Thank you. [ The coffee isn't necessary, strictly speaking—but Aerith always seems to know when practicality isn't the point. ] You didn't have to. [ It's not admonishment. The sharp edges of weariness are dulled, and Tseng's focus ebbs just enough to suggest that his mind isn't entirely occupied with the task at hand, of hurrying her home. ]
no subject
Date: 2024-12-17 03:52 am (UTC)It's the least I can do, isn't it? Considering how I'm keeping you up late.
[ If Aerith stopped to think about it, she would notice her own sleepiness beginning to encroach, but she's too busy trying to push aside that pang of remorse that lingers on the edge of her consciousness, a reminder that he'll drive her home quickly, and that will be that.
Her efforts aren't good enough to stave off the tightness in her jaw, or the dour look in her eyes that contradicts the bright tone of voice she's been trying for ever since she returned to the car. The thought of how wrong she was to think he wanted to draw this out as much as she did sitting heavy on her mind, ignoring all attempts to push past it. ]
no subject
Date: 2024-12-19 03:01 pm (UTC)But you didn’t need to go out of your way. [ For the coffee. Or his, with the scarf.
As much as he tries to speak free of sentiment or reprimand, this is as redundant as telling her not to stay out late at all. There’s only so much he can (and will) do. Of course, she’ll cut a hole in the fence of her boundaries, only to fall back into the moat the Turks keep digging deeper and wider around her. It’s a small concession that this isn’t their first night to end like this, and Tseng has slept on an even more bitter conscience. ]
I’m taking you home now. [ He says, coinciding with her unsung awareness that the night needs to end here. He’ll bring her to Leaf House; Tseng takes the street with the long red light again. ]