Video - Knuckledown

[looking_sharp]

[Enjoy your video of a man in a suit, the angle chosen for the video making sure that more light shines off of his sunglasses than anything else, making his eyes even harder to see.]

Looking for a Porter city gym. Best one you know. Need somewhere to practice and train. Or a training center for MMA.

[Life was harder without the training facilities his division maintained.]

Also. Somewhere that serves Wutain food.

[Will that even make sense to anyone? He doesn't care. His questions have been delivered. The message will either be answered or not. So he just cuts the recording there and posts it online. This is really a weird communication method people have set up.]

Comments

[beenhad]

Yes. I am a bit preoccupied...

[ There's the hushed din of conversation in the background. Tseng is apologizing to someone, returning shortly. ]

Is 1800 good for you?

[looking_sharp]

[An interesting choice in time. But he thought he could make it work. He did tend to prefer an earlier dinner.]

Of course, sir. I will have it there by then. Good luck with your work day.

[beenhad]

And you with your search.

[ This isn't his real job, of course, but is it any real surprise that Tseng is clocking out late on his first day? Imagine his delight when he found himself here, clueless and thirsting for knowledge, only to find himself assigned to a building that exclusively deals in just that. Honestly, the Shinra museum is a sad joke next to this.

He is bringing home so many goddamned books. ]

[looking_sharp]

[Rude is definitely there, waiting with bags.]

Light reading, sir?

[beenhad]

[ Prompt and prepared. It's good to know that some things never change, no matter their situation. Tseng shifts the sizeable stack in his arms so that he can unlock the door. ]

Yes. Comprehensive texts on various historical eras of this world. Perhaps you would be so inclined as to assist me with my research.

[ Tseng relinquishes the books with care upon the table. Everything from the Precambrian to the Cenozoic is represented here. Still, not as much as he would like.

Immediately, he sets upon Rude, unburdening him of some bags and rifling inquisitively through others. ]

[looking_sharp]

Of course. I lack books at the moment.

[Histories aren't his interest, but he's been bored. But he is happy to let the bags be passed over. Tseng cooking is something to enjoy. With that said, once he had no bags, he moves to select a book to flip through it.]

Interesting choice you've made here.

[beenhad]

[ Tseng leans back from the counter where he is meticulously sorting his ingredients into color-coordinated piles, trying to glimpse the cover of the book in Rude's hands. Carnegie's Dragon. He clears his throat. ]

Perhaps not the most pertinent to our current situation, but this world boasts a most fascinating prehuman fossil record. I was told there are places in this country where you can see every era of this planet's living history displayed as clearly as layers in a cake.

[ The burner clicks as Tseng coldly massacres a family of scallions. Thoughtfully, he muses: ]

And within, a burning core.

[looking_sharp]

[Color coordinated. The man is a bit complicated, isn't he? And focused on order. More so than even Rude does.]

And that intrigues you? Old rocks in the ground? And the burning core doesn't make sense.

[Everyone knows there is mako under the surface.]

[beenhad]

Precisely. Nothing but rock and magma. There is no trace of mako in this world.

[ No materia. No Cetra. Tseng moves on to mashing the ground beef. ]

Energy production is dominated by a process called nuclear fusion. I've managed to procure only two books on the subject, and one is only theoretical.

[ But he thinks that Rufus might like to know. After all, the things that he has been saying as of late...

Tseng cracks an egg and spills its yolk into the bowl. The sauce he's mixing on the stove has begun to inhabit the room with a savory aroma. ]

[looking_sharp]

Nuclear what?

[He's never heard the words before. Well, not nuclear. Fusion has happened with food. But otherwise he's definitely a bit frustrated. Rude flips into the book, watching Tseng.]

So we adapt. Adjust. Learn?

[beenhad]

We have little choice in the matter. This is not our world and plays by none of its rules.

[ He's twisting up wontons, one after the other, as precise and quick as he is with any other mission. It isn't long before there are rows upon rows of the tiny boat-shaped constructs, each perfectly aligned upon the sheet. ]

But we can orient ourselves according to its history. Reno and our president have focused on securing more contemporary intelligence. That leaves you and I to fit the pieces together. I'm making the spring rolls vegan; you won't mind, will you?

[looking_sharp]

[Frankly, Rude didn't know Tseng could cook. The book is set aside so he can study this. Very impressive. He never had a chance to learn.]

You're really good at that. Quick fingers.

[beenhad]

[ Tseng shoots him that coy look that can mean anything from "keep it on the DL that I nap under my desk sometimes" to "no one but us needs to know where this body is buried." ]

It's not difficult. Want to try?

[ He's already flipping the first batch in with a flurry of chopstick activity. ]

[looking_sharp]

I'm not a delicate worker.

[He's the bruiser, remember? Reno had those long beautiful fingers, he'd be able to do this. Rude? No, he'd not be able to do it.]

[beenhad]

Nonsense.

[ How could Tseng forget? He was fifteen the first time he saw Rude swing a grown man around by his boots and toss him through a wall. It left quite the impression.

He retreats from the stove with a bowl of water and a few wrappers, already prepared. Leans across the table with them so Rude can see the way he systematically wets and folds and wets and folds again. Slow enough so he can see. ]

In half, like this, and then over your thumb, corner to corner. You can do these for me.

[looking_sharp]

[It's not nonsense. Not in Rude's opinion. But he does move to Tseng and watches, careful and attentive. He doesn't need to be shown a task more than once, not if it's manual labor. That he understand. Even after all of these years, though, verbal instructions sometimes need repeated.

He considers the steps and after a moment repeats them. His creation is far clumsier, and with how large his fingers are, not as tight and elegant as Tseng's creations. But it will serve.]

You're making a lot. Going to feed Rufus?

[beenhad]

I likely will not be available every time you want Wutai. You can freeze what's left. The broth is simple.

[ Into one bowl goes a splash of one sauce, two of another. A few wontons are flipped into the soup and a ladle full of water from the pot is drizzled over. His fingers flash with a flurry of green onions and that's that. ]

Take this. Thank you for your assistance; I'll finish the rest.

[looking_sharp]

[He makes it look so easy. Rude appreciates it, though, and takes the bowl.]

I've been given some advice on Earth cultures that might have similar foods for me to enjoy. So I don't have to bother you.

[beenhad]

You'll have to tell me how they compare.

[ For now, Tseng is working on a marching line of spring rolls, which are just as quickly and deftly folded and delivered to table with a dish of sauce. He doesn't linger; it's immediately back to the tiny kitchen for him, a din of clanking pots and hissing water as he starts to clean the mess he's made. ]

[looking_sharp]

[Rude watches for a while, and then smiles. It's impressive, and he really likes it.]

Didn't know you were domestic, sir. Learn it to take care of hte boss?

[beenhad]

No. I'm afraid this particular skill set predates my involvement with the president.

[ Funny how easy it is to feel the sting of nostalgia in a place he's never been. It's the scent of fresh green onions and spinach and carrots, his reflection through the steam in the bottom of a wok. All these things were so easy to ignore back home. ]

[looking_sharp]

[Ah. Rude lets it slide. Talking about their homes before Shinra is... awkward. Rude doesn't like to muse on what drove him from Costa and to Junon where he'd been found by Veld. Going back home had never been comfortable, but he had done it for the company once or twice.

At least he wasn't seen as a traitor to his nation, though. He always wondered if Tseng might be.]

You should cook for the boss. He'd like it I think.

[beenhad]

I'm not sure I have a choice in the matter. This is not at all the contingency that life prepared him for.

[ Would that he could return them all to lives with maids and catering. Alas. He repurposes one of the bags that Rude brought with him, stacking two tubs of wontons within. This is placed on the table in front of Rude and then securely tied—no, that's not neat, he undoes and reties it again. ]

Freeze them when you get home. They'll keep forever.

[ As for him, he's plucking one of the books off the pile and finally, finally sitting, with the barest wrinkle in his nose as his aching back adjusts. ]

[looking_sharp]

[Rude's very concerned about the need for neatness here, Tseng. But he won't comment.]

Would you like privacy, sir?

[He's mostly done with his soup and could just clean the bowl and head out.]

[beenhad]

[ Presentation is everything, Rude. ]

Please, feel free to take your time. You were never very disruptive, were you?

[ Besides the fact that it feels the better kind of normal to be pouring over text while one of his Turks takes lunch. Or late dinner, whatever. What he wouldn't have given back in the day for a quiet, empty office; now it just seems like an integral missing piece. ]