[ most definitely a lightweight, though he will vehemently deny it later. ]
ok smartass
[ one final quip before he tucks his phone into his back pocket and exits his room, the hydraulic door hissing quietly as it slides shuts behind him. he skids across the corridor, around one corner and down a second corridor to the elevator, and punches a loosely curled fist into the button. there are seventeen floors between his floor and the floor of tseng's office and it takes less than ninety seconds to traverse all of them, even with zack bouncing distractedly on the balls of his feet as if he's been waiting for hours.
he has to squeeze through the small collection of bodies that have gathered in the elevator on the journey up ( with multiple variations of "oop, excuse me, gonna slip right by you there", all country boy politeness that he never unlearned ), and then he's finally free, resolutely ignoring every curious stare he receives from wandering passersby. this is important business, obviously. strictly.
when he reaches tseng's door, he pauses for exactly .5 seconds and briefly considers the merits of knocking. tseng might hear the barest hint of knuckles grazing the door right before it flies open to reveal one mussy-headed zack fresh from a restful one hour nap, shoulder tucked into the frame, legs crossed, hip cocked and arms folded across his chest ]
So. I broke you, huh?
Edited (fist not first wtf) 2020-05-03 01:05 (UTC)
[ Tseng's phone lights up on his desk a mere second after Zack's colorful explosion through the door. His secretary's voice crackles through the speaker:
"Cute Butt is here to see you." ]
I gathered, Gloria, thank you.
[ He really deserves an Academy Award for not sounding as exasperated as he feels. Tseng punches a button on the pad, swiftly cutting the connection. Gloria misses her chance to follow up, and the speaker dies on her mid-cackle. ]
Lock the door behind you.
[ Tseng will be taking up residence against his desk in the meantime, hip leaned against the edge as he waves two crystal tumblers in the air. This is the good stuff, deep malted brown and fancy ice and all. Not bad for a mid-afternoon reprieve. ]
[ for once, zack will do as tseng says with very little protest, though not before he spares a full-body tilted glance at gloria's desk for a half-grin and two-fingered salute. he closes the door behind him as noisily as he opened it and flips the lock, then drags a nearby chair from one corner of the office to plant it firmly in front of tseng's desk on the opposite end of the room.
he straddles the chair backwards, one arm hanging off the back and the other extended toward tseng, bare palm open and waiting, fingers subtly wiggling. ]
[ Tseng sighs through his nose. Still all neat lines and proper Turk composure though. It makes a stark contrast against Zack's flagrant misuse of his office chair and Thundaga-loud energy.
At least there's only one of him right now. Gaia forbid he and Reno ever start to get along. Tseng never wants to feel the sort of migraine he'd get in that event.
He holds the drink out for Zackβrevokes it at the last second. ]
Go slow. And then whatever you think is slow, go even slower than that.
[ go slow. perfectly sound advice that zack considers very seriously right until tseng forks over the glass, and then he's eyeing his drink like he's on the training mat, suddenly presented with a challenge. he glances at tseng with a breezy smile and tilts the glass toward him in a silent cheers. ]
Relax. I got this.
[ three words that tseng is undoubtedly used to hearing from zack fair's mouth, a foreboding prelude to their meeting.
he brings the glass to his nose, sniffs, and catches tseng's eye right before he throws the entire drink back all at once, swallowing through the hot-cold burn as the whiskey hits his throat. it's maybe a mistake β definitely a mistake β but he blinks away tears and inhales through his teeth, rigid in his chair to keep from cringing. ]
[ Laughter explodes through Tseng's lips in a soft, too-quiet-to-be true huff of breath. He presses his hand to his mouth to mute it. What an unbecoming display.
Still, that glint of mirth in his eyes is impossible to squelch. Why Zack has this effect on absolutely everyone, himself begrudgingly included, Tseng has no idea. It is the same universal constant that strikes fear into the heart of anyone who has ever suffered the feline chill of Sephiroth's gaze. There are some things in this world beyond even Tseng's power to control.
He clears his throat. Pages a strand of wisping black hair behind his ear. ]
This is sipping whisky.
[ Still, he tips the bottle over Zack's glass again. There's not as much in there this time, but he's kind enough to exhibit for Zack how to do it, fingers poised and fanned delicately across the tumbler as he savors a small taste of his drink. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
ok smartass
[ one final quip before he tucks his phone into his back pocket and exits his room, the hydraulic door hissing quietly as it slides shuts behind him. he skids across the corridor, around one corner and down a second corridor to the elevator, and punches a loosely curled fist into the button. there are seventeen floors between his floor and the floor of tseng's office and it takes less than ninety seconds to traverse all of them, even with zack bouncing distractedly on the balls of his feet as if he's been waiting for hours.
he has to squeeze through the small collection of bodies that have gathered in the elevator on the journey up ( with multiple variations of "oop, excuse me, gonna slip right by you there", all country boy politeness that he never unlearned ), and then he's finally free, resolutely ignoring every curious stare he receives from wandering passersby. this is important business, obviously. strictly.
when he reaches tseng's door, he pauses for exactly .5 seconds and briefly considers the merits of knocking. tseng might hear the barest hint of knuckles grazing the door right before it flies open to reveal one mussy-headed zack fresh from a restful one hour nap, shoulder tucked into the frame, legs crossed, hip cocked and arms folded across his chest ]
So. I broke you, huh?
no subject
[ Tseng's phone lights up on his desk a mere second after Zack's colorful explosion through the door. His secretary's voice crackles through the speaker:
"Cute Butt is here to see you." ]
I gathered, Gloria, thank you.
[ He really deserves an Academy Award for not sounding as exasperated as he feels. Tseng punches a button on the pad, swiftly cutting the connection. Gloria misses her chance to follow up, and the speaker dies on her mid-cackle. ]
Lock the door behind you.
[ Tseng will be taking up residence against his desk in the meantime, hip leaned against the edge as he waves two crystal tumblers in the air. This is the good stuff, deep malted brown and fancy ice and all. Not bad for a mid-afternoon reprieve. ]
no subject
he straddles the chair backwards, one arm hanging off the back and the other extended toward tseng, bare palm open and waiting, fingers subtly wiggling. ]
Pony up, boss.
no subject
[ Tseng sighs through his nose. Still all neat lines and proper Turk composure though. It makes a stark contrast against Zack's flagrant misuse of his office chair and Thundaga-loud energy.
At least there's only one of him right now. Gaia forbid he and Reno ever start to get along. Tseng never wants to feel the sort of migraine he'd get in that event.
He holds the drink out for Zackβrevokes it at the last second. ]
Go slow. And then whatever you think is slow, go even slower than that.
[ And then he'll pass it over in earnest. ]
no subject
Relax. I got this.
[ three words that tseng is undoubtedly used to hearing from zack fair's mouth, a foreboding prelude to their meeting.
he brings the glass to his nose, sniffs, and catches tseng's eye right before he throws the entire drink back all at once, swallowing through the hot-cold burn as the whiskey hits his throat. it's maybe a mistake β definitely a mistake β but he blinks away tears and inhales through his teeth, rigid in his chair to keep from cringing. ]
Shit β sorry, pardon me.
no subject
Still, that glint of mirth in his eyes is impossible to squelch. Why Zack has this effect on absolutely everyone, himself begrudgingly included, Tseng has no idea. It is the same universal constant that strikes fear into the heart of anyone who has ever suffered the feline chill of Sephiroth's gaze. There are some things in this world beyond even Tseng's power to control.
He clears his throat. Pages a strand of wisping black hair behind his ear. ]
This is sipping whisky.
[ Still, he tips the bottle over Zack's glass again. There's not as much in there this time, but he's kind enough to exhibit for Zack how to do it, fingers poised and fanned delicately across the tumbler as he savors a small taste of his drink. ]