Of course. That's exactly like Angeal, isn't it? Sephiroth tilts his head down, long hair sliding down over his shoulder, and chuckles. "I suppose you have a point," he says in response. "If someone cannot do something like that, then they will not last even the slightest bit down here." Well, he supposes he'll be his own judge on just how much of a hard time he should give Angeal's successor. For now... He'll do his best to keep his plans and opinions open.
There's not much time to think heavily on it. Angeal suddenly straightens up with a quiet swear, and goes right back to his feet and then his miniature kitchen. "Almost forgot the rice - and I should probably make some sides, while I'm at it."
Not a lot of people would go to such efforts when it's just them, and the person working under them. But then... Angeal's always been different that way. Something about his own personal 'honor', whatever that seems to mean. Sephiroth knows he's not the only one who's spent a night here, when Angeal has opened up his door to any of his workers who were kicked out of their apartment or had to make a run from a bad situation. Knows he's not the only person who he's even cooked for, here in this little tiny room. There's a reason the workers down here in Wall Market wanted to hold onto him so tightly, at just the idea that he might be leaving.
But Angeal reaches down into one of the cupboards, pulls out a small container. "I have some pork pâté I made a little while ago," he says over his shoulder. "Still your favorite thing I make, right?"
Sephiroth likes all the food that Angeal makes for him, whether it's the quick food that often gets passed off in restaurants here in Midgar, or the quiet more homey things that some of the other workers have talked about when referencing their own pasts. He adores the flavorful meals that Angeal and Genesis both know, brought from their hometown.
But one night, early on in their relationship where Angeal would stock up on things and not go outside so easily, not yet, he'd bitten into one of the little meat pastries and had to tuck it into his cheek, puffing out the heat from surprise. He'd made a comment, back then. Something silly, something he's honestly long since forgotten because he hadn't thought that it would be important. Something about the flavor, the taste of herbs that he'd never had a chance to be familiar with before he ever met them.
Angeal had never forgotten. He'd always make them for him, or have some pre-made if he ever thought that Sephiroth would stop by. Certainly, he has no doubt that if he said he didn't want them anymore, then Angeal would stop making them. But he doesn't.
Sephiroth just says, "It is."
That's all Angeal needs before he turns back to his work, and Sephiroth gets up. He has a feeling that he's going to be staying the night here at HQ, and, if that's the case, then he'd much rather undress some of the more complicated aspects to his outfit. It's all well and good, black leather that weathers a great deal and doesn't stain easily, but it is not exactly the perfect sleepwear. The perfect sleepwear would be in Angeal's closet, where he has some plain t-shirts that are just slightly larger on Sephiroth's frame than would actually fit. It's fine; that's all he needs.
By the time he's gotten all the leather off and Angeal's shirt on, it would appear that most of the proper cooking has been accomplished already, with the room smelling of warm spices that makes even his stomach stir a bit. Despite that, when he presses up against Angeal's back, cheek to shoulder and some of his long silver hair brushing against bare skin, Angeal still says, "Hair up in the kitchen."
"The kitchen is a part of an open room." But this is just a silly bit of semantics they make fun of each other for, really, and Sephiroth still obliges in the end. It doesn't take that much for him to pull his hair back, a quick and loose bun that will do well enough. This much hair, it's the best he can do. "You know, I do have client who pay extra for something like that," Sephiroth points out. There is apparently something appealing about the sight of a lover in one's own clothing. Sephiroth would know from experience he's picked up in his line of work, and also because he knows that it pleases Angeal as well.
Normally, anyway. Angeal flashes him a teasing grin. "I'm cooking you dinner, I'm not paying you anything."
"That is rather cheap of you, Angeal," Sephiroth comments dryly, but he's smiling a bit, too. Angeal is always cheap when it comes to himself, and hungry for a good deal when it comes to a lot of other things in life too. The only things he's not cheap about are keeping his territory safe and healthy, and sending money back to his parents in Banora.
Sometimes Sephiroth knows how to coax more out of him... but most of the time, he doesn't. He likes Angeal too much, respects him too much, to abuse the trust that he's been given in turn.
And he wouldn't trade anything in the world for the way that Angeal bumps his shoulder against his, and hands him a plate to fill as he likes.
Not every person under Angeal can make it to the little meeting he hosts at the Honeybee Inn, on account of numbers and scheduling conflicts and everything else. Yet a great deal more people than even Sephiroth was expecting do show up, filling up the Honeybee Inn during some hours that are arguably for cleaning and are more often for messing around. Or, in this case, gossip about what Angeal is doing, and who he might be introducing to them all.
All Sephiroth can say to those that ask him is that he trusts Angeal, and that Angeal won't be retiring soon. Other than that, he must admit that he is in the dark as anyone else for just who Angeal has decided to choose to succeed him.
At least Angeal doesn't keep the group waiting in suspense for very long. There's a few minutes time given to any stragglers who might have caught a late train, or got delayed because of whatever else happens on this particular plate, which is anything and everything... But soon enough their boss steps up onto the stage in the main entertainment area where a lot of the shows are put on, because nowhere else in the entire building could fit what is probably the entirety of Midgar's sex network.
(This is probably an exaggeration. Sephiroth does not feel it is much of one. People go quickly to a boss that treats them well, and Angeal does not skimp on such things. There were a lot of people who slipped away to his employment once he was able. Anyone who chased after and thought they could pick a fight... lost.)
Unlike the last time he was swarmed by a group in the Honeybee Inn, Angeal doesn't have to whistle to bring order around him. Instead, just the presence of him is enough to quiet down all the chattering. Not a person is here who isn't interested in seeing what his plans for the future are, after all. This little fact does not escape Angeal. "I see that I've ended up fostering a workplace environment of nosiness," he comments dryly, which earns a couple of laughs from the workers. Where he's settled in a small booth to the side, Sephiroth smiles a bit as well. "Not that I guess I could have expected anything less from the group where someone's gossip kind of made me have to have this meeting way earlier than I would have liked.
"Most of you have an idea of what this is about. I would say that most of you have gotten caught up in gossip, so we'll clear that up first and foremost: No, I'm not retiring tonight. Or tomorrow. Not this week either, or this month. It's not in the cards for the entire year, either. Probably not a good few, unfortunately for me."
Some of the nervous energy in the room dissipates with just that simple reassurance. Sephiroth doesn't even need enhanced senses to tell that much. It's in the light way some of the hosts and hostesses smile at each other, relieved they won't have to worry about a boss that won't care if they make a complaint about a customer. He can hear it in the whistled out breaths of relief from other sex workers like himself, poledancers and strippers and the ones out on the streets who know they can call for help and have it answered. Someone somewhere in the throng claps their hand to the back of a friend - the bouncers of more than a few establishments in the place. Angeal knows how dirty work is. They rely on him like they wouldn't anyone else just here for the money.
Angeal lets a little bit of chatter happen for a second, understanding a release is needed, before he continues. "That isn't to say I don't want to retire at some point, because I do. And I intend to start working on that long before it actually happens. So you'll be seeing someone new around for a while trailing after me. It's not decided that he's going to replace me in the future. Consider it more of a... test trial."
That starts up the gossip all over again, which Angeal must have expected. Still, Sephiroth supposes this sort of thing couldn't be helped. Gossip would have started up one way or another if someone new just started hanging around Angeal for so long, so consistently. At least this way, Angeal can get out the truth to the most people at once. That's... something.
This time, Angeal does have to let loose a whistle again, the sharp sound bouncing up against the incredibly high ceilings. "How things run might change slightly, because it's not like I'm making a clone of myself," he says dryly, "but not the base things which are most important to all of you. Pay, protection - those are things I'll make sure stay in place even if I do leave. And if somehow they go wrong, you have my permission to throw the new guy into a ditch and drag me out of retirement again. Just try to give him a starting shot-"
A door in the back opens up. Most of the people in the inn don't look back at it. A couple do, because they're close enough. Sephiroth isn't close enough, by normal standards, but he still notes it regardless. It looks like a young man, black hair... Familiar, somehow? And yet Sephiroth is fairly certain that he's not seen him regularly at the Honeybee Inn, or out on the streets.
Before he has much more time to ponder this new arrival, or dismiss him - whichever would come first - the man perks up and energetically waves up at Angeal even as he shuts the door behind him. And it is at Angeal that he's waving to, not anyone else in the large group that's gathered tonight. Sephiroth knows that because Angeal actually shifts his head a bit, acknowledges this new arrival. "Speak of devils," he comments dryly. "Zack - you're late."
"Sorry, Angeal!" says this newcomer, Zack, although his body soon disappears in the group of people as he tries to make his way up to the stage. This would theoretically not be hard, since there is still plenty of room even with everyone here, but, well. Zack is the new guy of the hour. People are interested in him now that Angeal is actually acknowledging him, and Sephiroth thinks he can hear some laughter. "Whoa - hi, excuuuuse me, just - coming through, sorry about the feathers!" Angeal waits patiently up on the stage, before Zack finally manages to push through, and scrambles up to him eagerly. At least he's not lacking for energy, Sephiroth can say that much.
And some measure of optimism, too, showing in the way that he grins widely back at everyone even as he has to stand in front of so many. Someone, perhaps, automatically suited to the spotlight. Sephiroth can't quite relate.
Angeal just puts a hand along the back of Zack's neck, keeping him neatly in place. Smart idea; this one seems like the type that would leap right off of the stage and get into all sorts of nonsense before the rest of them have had a chance to even hear his name. But then, there's something familiar about the way that Angeal's hand settles, too... "For those paying attention, I probably don't have to explain much. For the rest of you, then this is Zack, and Zack is going to be hanging around to see how I do business down here in Wall Market. I'm trusting you all to take care of him while he's here with me. Got it?"
There's some actual verbal responses, some that aren't so verbal, but that hardly matters to Sephiroth right now. Instead, as he watches Angeal lightly shove Zack off back into the throng where he seems more than happy to talk to people, it occurs to him that he knows now why Zack had seemed so familiar.
This isn't the first time that he's seen Zack at Angeal's side. Granted, he's not seen him often, not like how Genesis and Angeal used to be absolutely inseparable, but... He had still noted, at a distance, the appearance of someone new at Angeal's side as he'd gone about to do some of his average business down on the plate. Walking off to check something with the younger man in tow, keeping him waiting in a chair somewhere at HQ before he came out for something... Only a small smattering of occasions like that. Nothing noteworthy at the time. Sephiroth had honestly thought that he was another sex worker at first that Angeal was dealing with for whatever reason.
He had also caught sight, once, of Zack against a wall, mouth desperately trying to devour or be devoured by Angeal's own, hands pawing at that muscular chest. He'd been whining for it, hungry.
Admittedly, that last part had done a lot on the impression that this was just another sex worker being taken into the fold. Angeal didn't normally lay a hand on his own workers in that matter, but, well. Sephiroth knew better than anyone that there could certainly be the occasional exception.
no subject
There's not much time to think heavily on it. Angeal suddenly straightens up with a quiet swear, and goes right back to his feet and then his miniature kitchen. "Almost forgot the rice - and I should probably make some sides, while I'm at it."
Not a lot of people would go to such efforts when it's just them, and the person working under them. But then... Angeal's always been different that way. Something about his own personal 'honor', whatever that seems to mean. Sephiroth knows he's not the only one who's spent a night here, when Angeal has opened up his door to any of his workers who were kicked out of their apartment or had to make a run from a bad situation. Knows he's not the only person who he's even cooked for, here in this little tiny room. There's a reason the workers down here in Wall Market wanted to hold onto him so tightly, at just the idea that he might be leaving.
But Angeal reaches down into one of the cupboards, pulls out a small container. "I have some pork pâté I made a little while ago," he says over his shoulder. "Still your favorite thing I make, right?"
Sephiroth likes all the food that Angeal makes for him, whether it's the quick food that often gets passed off in restaurants here in Midgar, or the quiet more homey things that some of the other workers have talked about when referencing their own pasts. He adores the flavorful meals that Angeal and Genesis both know, brought from their hometown.
But one night, early on in their relationship where Angeal would stock up on things and not go outside so easily, not yet, he'd bitten into one of the little meat pastries and had to tuck it into his cheek, puffing out the heat from surprise. He'd made a comment, back then. Something silly, something he's honestly long since forgotten because he hadn't thought that it would be important. Something about the flavor, the taste of herbs that he'd never had a chance to be familiar with before he ever met them.
Angeal had never forgotten. He'd always make them for him, or have some pre-made if he ever thought that Sephiroth would stop by. Certainly, he has no doubt that if he said he didn't want them anymore, then Angeal would stop making them. But he doesn't.
Sephiroth just says, "It is."
That's all Angeal needs before he turns back to his work, and Sephiroth gets up. He has a feeling that he's going to be staying the night here at HQ, and, if that's the case, then he'd much rather undress some of the more complicated aspects to his outfit. It's all well and good, black leather that weathers a great deal and doesn't stain easily, but it is not exactly the perfect sleepwear. The perfect sleepwear would be in Angeal's closet, where he has some plain t-shirts that are just slightly larger on Sephiroth's frame than would actually fit. It's fine; that's all he needs.
By the time he's gotten all the leather off and Angeal's shirt on, it would appear that most of the proper cooking has been accomplished already, with the room smelling of warm spices that makes even his stomach stir a bit. Despite that, when he presses up against Angeal's back, cheek to shoulder and some of his long silver hair brushing against bare skin, Angeal still says, "Hair up in the kitchen."
"The kitchen is a part of an open room." But this is just a silly bit of semantics they make fun of each other for, really, and Sephiroth still obliges in the end. It doesn't take that much for him to pull his hair back, a quick and loose bun that will do well enough. This much hair, it's the best he can do. "You know, I do have client who pay extra for something like that," Sephiroth points out. There is apparently something appealing about the sight of a lover in one's own clothing. Sephiroth would know from experience he's picked up in his line of work, and also because he knows that it pleases Angeal as well.
Normally, anyway. Angeal flashes him a teasing grin. "I'm cooking you dinner, I'm not paying you anything."
"That is rather cheap of you, Angeal," Sephiroth comments dryly, but he's smiling a bit, too. Angeal is always cheap when it comes to himself, and hungry for a good deal when it comes to a lot of other things in life too. The only things he's not cheap about are keeping his territory safe and healthy, and sending money back to his parents in Banora.
Sometimes Sephiroth knows how to coax more out of him... but most of the time, he doesn't. He likes Angeal too much, respects him too much, to abuse the trust that he's been given in turn.
And he wouldn't trade anything in the world for the way that Angeal bumps his shoulder against his, and hands him a plate to fill as he likes.
Not every person under Angeal can make it to the little meeting he hosts at the Honeybee Inn, on account of numbers and scheduling conflicts and everything else. Yet a great deal more people than even Sephiroth was expecting do show up, filling up the Honeybee Inn during some hours that are arguably for cleaning and are more often for messing around. Or, in this case, gossip about what Angeal is doing, and who he might be introducing to them all.
All Sephiroth can say to those that ask him is that he trusts Angeal, and that Angeal won't be retiring soon. Other than that, he must admit that he is in the dark as anyone else for just who Angeal has decided to choose to succeed him.
At least Angeal doesn't keep the group waiting in suspense for very long. There's a few minutes time given to any stragglers who might have caught a late train, or got delayed because of whatever else happens on this particular plate, which is anything and everything... But soon enough their boss steps up onto the stage in the main entertainment area where a lot of the shows are put on, because nowhere else in the entire building could fit what is probably the entirety of Midgar's sex network.
(This is probably an exaggeration. Sephiroth does not feel it is much of one. People go quickly to a boss that treats them well, and Angeal does not skimp on such things. There were a lot of people who slipped away to his employment once he was able. Anyone who chased after and thought they could pick a fight... lost.)
Unlike the last time he was swarmed by a group in the Honeybee Inn, Angeal doesn't have to whistle to bring order around him. Instead, just the presence of him is enough to quiet down all the chattering. Not a person is here who isn't interested in seeing what his plans for the future are, after all. This little fact does not escape Angeal. "I see that I've ended up fostering a workplace environment of nosiness," he comments dryly, which earns a couple of laughs from the workers. Where he's settled in a small booth to the side, Sephiroth smiles a bit as well. "Not that I guess I could have expected anything less from the group where someone's gossip kind of made me have to have this meeting way earlier than I would have liked.
"Most of you have an idea of what this is about. I would say that most of you have gotten caught up in gossip, so we'll clear that up first and foremost: No, I'm not retiring tonight. Or tomorrow. Not this week either, or this month. It's not in the cards for the entire year, either. Probably not a good few, unfortunately for me."
Some of the nervous energy in the room dissipates with just that simple reassurance. Sephiroth doesn't even need enhanced senses to tell that much. It's in the light way some of the hosts and hostesses smile at each other, relieved they won't have to worry about a boss that won't care if they make a complaint about a customer. He can hear it in the whistled out breaths of relief from other sex workers like himself, poledancers and strippers and the ones out on the streets who know they can call for help and have it answered. Someone somewhere in the throng claps their hand to the back of a friend - the bouncers of more than a few establishments in the place. Angeal knows how dirty work is. They rely on him like they wouldn't anyone else just here for the money.
Angeal lets a little bit of chatter happen for a second, understanding a release is needed, before he continues. "That isn't to say I don't want to retire at some point, because I do. And I intend to start working on that long before it actually happens. So you'll be seeing someone new around for a while trailing after me. It's not decided that he's going to replace me in the future. Consider it more of a... test trial."
That starts up the gossip all over again, which Angeal must have expected. Still, Sephiroth supposes this sort of thing couldn't be helped. Gossip would have started up one way or another if someone new just started hanging around Angeal for so long, so consistently. At least this way, Angeal can get out the truth to the most people at once. That's... something.
This time, Angeal does have to let loose a whistle again, the sharp sound bouncing up against the incredibly high ceilings. "How things run might change slightly, because it's not like I'm making a clone of myself," he says dryly, "but not the base things which are most important to all of you. Pay, protection - those are things I'll make sure stay in place even if I do leave. And if somehow they go wrong, you have my permission to throw the new guy into a ditch and drag me out of retirement again. Just try to give him a starting shot-"
A door in the back opens up. Most of the people in the inn don't look back at it. A couple do, because they're close enough. Sephiroth isn't close enough, by normal standards, but he still notes it regardless. It looks like a young man, black hair... Familiar, somehow? And yet Sephiroth is fairly certain that he's not seen him regularly at the Honeybee Inn, or out on the streets.
Before he has much more time to ponder this new arrival, or dismiss him - whichever would come first - the man perks up and energetically waves up at Angeal even as he shuts the door behind him. And it is at Angeal that he's waving to, not anyone else in the large group that's gathered tonight. Sephiroth knows that because Angeal actually shifts his head a bit, acknowledges this new arrival. "Speak of devils," he comments dryly. "Zack - you're late."
"Sorry, Angeal!" says this newcomer, Zack, although his body soon disappears in the group of people as he tries to make his way up to the stage. This would theoretically not be hard, since there is still plenty of room even with everyone here, but, well. Zack is the new guy of the hour. People are interested in him now that Angeal is actually acknowledging him, and Sephiroth thinks he can hear some laughter. "Whoa - hi, excuuuuse me, just - coming through, sorry about the feathers!" Angeal waits patiently up on the stage, before Zack finally manages to push through, and scrambles up to him eagerly. At least he's not lacking for energy, Sephiroth can say that much.
And some measure of optimism, too, showing in the way that he grins widely back at everyone even as he has to stand in front of so many. Someone, perhaps, automatically suited to the spotlight. Sephiroth can't quite relate.
Angeal just puts a hand along the back of Zack's neck, keeping him neatly in place. Smart idea; this one seems like the type that would leap right off of the stage and get into all sorts of nonsense before the rest of them have had a chance to even hear his name. But then, there's something familiar about the way that Angeal's hand settles, too... "For those paying attention, I probably don't have to explain much. For the rest of you, then this is Zack, and Zack is going to be hanging around to see how I do business down here in Wall Market. I'm trusting you all to take care of him while he's here with me. Got it?"
There's some actual verbal responses, some that aren't so verbal, but that hardly matters to Sephiroth right now. Instead, as he watches Angeal lightly shove Zack off back into the throng where he seems more than happy to talk to people, it occurs to him that he knows now why Zack had seemed so familiar.
This isn't the first time that he's seen Zack at Angeal's side. Granted, he's not seen him often, not like how Genesis and Angeal used to be absolutely inseparable, but... He had still noted, at a distance, the appearance of someone new at Angeal's side as he'd gone about to do some of his average business down on the plate. Walking off to check something with the younger man in tow, keeping him waiting in a chair somewhere at HQ before he came out for something... Only a small smattering of occasions like that. Nothing noteworthy at the time. Sephiroth had honestly thought that he was another sex worker at first that Angeal was dealing with for whatever reason.
He had also caught sight, once, of Zack against a wall, mouth desperately trying to devour or be devoured by Angeal's own, hands pawing at that muscular chest. He'd been whining for it, hungry.
Admittedly, that last part had done a lot on the impression that this was just another sex worker being taken into the fold. Angeal didn't normally lay a hand on his own workers in that matter, but, well. Sephiroth knew better than anyone that there could certainly be the occasional exception.