The Love I Know in You
Chapter 23 New Routine At 6:30am, Shai exits her bedroom ready to take on whatever obstacles Monday may put in her path. She is dressed and ready for her first round of physical therapy this morning. As per her PT notes, she is wearing clean, comfortable clothing that is breathable and soft to the touch: black yoga pants, a much-needed sports bra, and a teal v-neck t-shirt. Her hair is pinned up and back with numerous barrettes, combs, and bobby pins, but, aggravatingly, they still cannot contain the loose curls sprouting in all directions. She'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit she was a bit nervous about her new routine. Xander made the stretches look so effortless, but he is an able-bodied man who does these demonstrations for a living. She is a woman with a bruised and battered tailbone who is performing these exercises without the assistance and guidance of her physical therapist. Still, between Xander's repetitive instructions and her extensive note-taking, she should be fine. She walks down the hallway on her way to the kitchen, but as she passes the open door to the den, she stops and backtracks her steps. There, sitting at his desk, is the general. He is typing on the desktop keyboard, his fingertips gliding swiftly over the keys, his attention never once deviating from the monitor. On close inspection, Shai can see the familiar format of a formal letter. Words materialize on the screen, line after line, at a record pace. “Good morning, Shai.” He stops and rotates his chair towards her, and she has everything to do to stop her breath from hitching in her chest. He is dressed meticulously in a charcoal grey wool turtleneck, pressed black dress slacks, a black leather belt with a silver h-bar buckle, and polished black oxfords. The long lengths of his fringe lie gleaming against his chest and stomach. Shai finds herself so distracted by the way the wool perfectly hugs his torso and the tailored fit of his trousers, she makes her first blunder of the day. Good morning, general. His brows lower, his stare intensifying. Shai can literally feel his admonishment bore into her. “Try again.” Good morning, Sephiroth. One side of his mouth lifts in a satisfying smile. May I ask why you are home today? “I wanted to be present for the TV installation. Furthermore, I intend to use the den as an office for those days I wish to work from home. In fact, expect my secretary to report here at 1200. She is dropping off SOLDIER files and several documents that require my signature.” OK. I will let her in when she arrives. When would you like to eat breakfast? “0900.” Anything in particular? “I leave it up to you.” Excellent, she thinks. I know just what to make him. Then I will let you get back to work. Would you like the door open or closed? “Open, please. Thank you, Shai.” He turns back to the computer and resumes typing. She makes her way to the kitchen to make herself her morning meal. She decides to shake up her usual bran cereal and strawberries with a granny smith apple sliced thinly and arranged in concentric circles on the surface of hot oats sprinkled with cinnamon. She's just finished coring and slicing the apple when the doorbell rings. Shai glances at the oven's clock. 7:00am. It must be Zack. Right on time. Exactly what she would expect from a 1st class SOLDIER. She scoots off the stool and walks to the entrance. Upon opening one of the double doors, she is met with eyes so blue they rival the endless reach of a tropical sky. Before her stands a handsome, young man, roughly 187cm tall, dressed in a black long-sleeved, ribbed turtleneck, black jeans, and black work boots shined to a glossy finish. His raven hair is swept back into defined spikes with a few loose strands hanging over his forehead and tapered over his sideburns. Shai notes his left ear is pierced with a silver stud and he has an unusual scar on his left cheek, near his jawline, in the shape of a cross. Shai would place his age the same as hers or a year or two younger. She wonders if all 1st class SOLDIERS are this good-looking? She immediately thinks of their general and thinks, of course they are. “Wow!” he suddenly exclaims, “You're the lady living with the general. The rumours in the SOLDIER barracks said you were hot, but I thought it was just talk from a bunch of horny cadets.” “Zack!” Shai nearly jumps through the ceiling. Before she knows it, Sephiroth is standing beside her. “This is the first impression you want to make?” “No, general. What I mean is, she is really beautiful.” He must be sight impaired, she thinks. I look like an untrimmed hedge. “She has a name.” Sephiroth turns to Shai. “Shai? I would like you to meet Zack Fair. Zack? This is Shai Montgomery. Miss Montgomery to you.” Nonsense! He can call me by my name. Zack's eyes widen in awe. “You do talk with your hands! That is so cool!” Shai smiles. I think I understand why you call him The Puppy. Sephiroth chuckles. “What's so funny?” “She said she understands why you are called The Puppy.” Zack's expression falls and a rosiness rises on his cheeks. “Ah, man!” he whines, “you told her Angeal's nickname?” Tell him I think it is cute. Sephiroth scowls. “What did she say?” Zack asks. “She thinks you're a nuisance.” Shai frowns, staring at the general disapprovingly. Zack picks up on her displeasure. “That's not what she thinks of me. That's what you think of me.” Shai walks to the island, grabs the grocery list, and gives it to Zack. “The name and address of the store are on the back,” says Sephiroth, “Give it to the proprietor, Mr. Bellamy, or to his wife. No one else. Understand?” “Piece of cake!” Zack turns his attention to Shai. “It was great meeting you! I hope we can see each other again someday.” Sephiroth glowers at the young SOLDIER.I would like that too. It is so nice to meet a friend of the general's. Perhaps you could join us for dinner sometime? Would you please translate for me? “When hell freezes over.” Shai looks up at the general incredulously. She's having flashbacks of the contemptuous behaviour he displayed towards Xander Redding: the barbs, the condescension, the posturing. Sybelline's astute observation said it stemmed from jealousy. Is this what this is? They say jealousy is rooted in thoughts or feelings of insecurity and fear. General Sephiroth insecure? Afraid? Shai just can't imagine it, but here we are again with him bristling, like a cornered animal, over the presence of another man. It is the least we can do since he is doing me a favour. Please translate for me. “For some unfathomable reason, Shai would also like to see you again. Perhaps dinner, as a thank you for doing this favour for her.” “That's awesome! When?” “I will contact you, Zack, at an appropriate time. Now go, or our delivery will be delayed.” “You got it!” Shai smiles and offers to shake Zack's hand. He is quick to accept. Sephiroth steps around them and opens the door. “Goodbye, Zack.” The young man waves as he exits the condo. “Later!” The general shuts the door forcefully, and turns to face Shai. “And why are you still smiling?” He made an impression. I like him. Second blunder of the day, and so soon after the first. She is not surprised when the general's ire turns on her. “Don't you have physical therapy this morning?” Right after my breakfast. Thank you for reminding me. He gives her one last pointed look and returns to the den while Shai goes into the kitchen to resume preparing and cooking her breakfast. /\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Shai finishes her apple and oats around quarter to eight and does not dally cleaning up her dishes. She needs to complete her physical therapy in time to have the general's breakfast on the table by 0900. She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, removes the notebook from the drawer, and walks to the open area in front of the windows. She sets the water and book down on an end table beside the sofa and reaches for the yoga mat. A high pressure system hovering over the Eastern continent is to thank for the second day of unseasonably warm weather in Midgar. The sun's beams cut through low wisps of cloud to light up the east-facing façade of the Shinra building. As she unrolls the mat in a rectangular patch of light, Shai is grateful the windows are treated with a solar film to decrease glare and block heat. She'll be able to perform her therapy comfortably. She grabs the book, flips to her notes, and does a quick review of all eight stretches. She is to keep to three repetitions each for the first week. She lies down on the mat, her legs flat, arms at her sides, and feels spasms twitch the muscles in and around her lower back. Given her body's immediate response, she wonders if she'll be able to complete one rep, let alone three. Taking a deep breath from her diaphragm, she begins with the second exercise Xander showed her, the knee-to-chest stretch. As she progresses through her therapy, each stretch brings with it a certain degree of discomfort, but, according to her notes, it is to be expected. Xander said it is normal to feel distressed in the area most affected by the injury. Shai feels his use of the word distressed was a gentle euphemism for sore as hell. She rises slowly and deliberately from the floor, following the exact steps Xander showed her. After the effort it takes her to stand, she doesn't want to risk adding to her soreness by bending to lift the yoga mat. She decides to leave it where it lies for her second bout of therapy this evening. Gripping the water bottle, she appeases her thirst as she moves to the kitchen, her gait stiff and graceless. She sets the bottle aside and begins pulling ingredients from the fridge to make the general's breakfast, excited to try this recipe. In two medium mixing bowls, she cracks and separates three large eggs, whisking the yolks in one and the whites in the other. She adds half of the egg whites to the yolks and stirs thoroughly, mixes in shredded Gruyère cheese and minced chives, then folds the remaining whites into the soufflé base until well combined. She melts butter in a skillet, pours the base into the pan, and uses a spatula to spread it into an even circle and smooth out the surface. Covering the pan, she glances at the clock to see how much time she has until the top of the hour. Fifteen more minutes. Right on schedule. When the omelette is browned on the bottom, she sprinkles more cheese on top and covers again until it is melted. She carefully slides the omelette onto a warmed plate, folds it over on itself, and sets it at the general's place at the table. As she makes him a cup of coffee, she hears the den door open, and footsteps approach. The general appears at the end of the hall at 0900. Perfect timing. Sephiroth walks to stand behind his chair at the dining table and Shai assumes he is preparing to sit down, but surprises her by picking up his plate and cutlery and seating himself at the island bar. She puts his coffee down beside his plate and hands him a cloth napkin. Are you sure you would not prefer to sit at the table? “I enjoyed eating breakfast here yesterday. It stands to reason I will enjoy it today as well. The dining table is more appropriate for evening meals, don't you think?” I do. “And what have you prepared for me?” A soufflé omelette with Gruyère cheese. “No cereal? No strawberries?” He winks at her, shading Shai's cheeks a deep rosy hue. Not this morning. She does her best to ignore his teasing and turns toward the far counter and the pile of dirty dishes heaped in the sink. She opens the dishwasher and arranges the bowls in the top rack; the whisk, cutlery, and skillet in the bottom. She is still moving cautiously around the kitchen as she continues to clean, her features wincing when she tenses a muscle group still tender from her therapy. Sephiroth does not fail to notice. “Your morning treatment will help to alleviate the discomfort you are currently feeling.” I hope so. I knew I would be sore, but I did not anticipate this severity. “In order for physical therapy to work, the muscles must experience a certain amount of stress. You are training your body. It is the same principle that applies when building strength through exercise. This will naturally lead to irritation and soreness. Didn't Mr. Redding explain this to you?” Yes, though not to the extent that you just did. She can almost feel the self-satisfaction emanating off him. He eats the last bite of his omelette, the clink of his fork against his empty plate cuing her to clear his place. She finishes loading the dishwasher and sets a light cycle. Sephiroth walks into the kitchen for a bottle of water. Closing the refrigerator door, he turns to face her. “Excellent meal, Shai. As always.” Thank you. I am pleased you enjoyed it. When should I have lunch ready? “1300.” What would you like? “May I have the same as yesterday?” Shai smiles up at him. You may. “Thank you.” You are welcome. He strides across the living room to return to work, drinking his water along the way. She takes an ice pack from the freezer and walks towards the fireside club chair. /\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Leaving the gel pack in the living area, Shai heads down the hall to her bedroom and notices Sephiroth has closed the door to the den. As she walks past, she can hear him speaking on the phone, his voice muffled by the solid wood. Clearly, he desires his privacy while he executes his official duties. She leaves her room and returns to the chair, her book in hand. Once seated, she leans forward, and makes her third, and hopefully final, blunder of the day. She foolishly assumes centering the pack on her sacrum by herself will be without its own set of struggles. First, she fumbles with it while lifting her t-shirt, then she drops it, allowing the cold moisture beading on its surface to wet her skin and soak her shirt. When she finally has the pack in place, her fingers are numb and she is thoroughly pissed off. She lets her head fall onto the backrest, and breathes out a long sigh. Sephiroth has spoiled her. He tended not only to her therapeutic needs, but supported her emotionally and mentally, whether he intended to or not. It was a comfort for her to know she was not alone. Woman, open your eyes. You're still not alone. He's here, isn't he? He could be at his office, but he chose to stay home. Why do you think that is? Shai opens her book in an attempt to drown out her internal dialogue. No, no, he's home because the TV technicians are scheduled to install the new television today. He's here to supervise. That's all, right? She unwittingly turns to the next page without having read the previous one, her attention diverted to the ceramic logs in the fireplace. It's unusual to see them without a fire. Shai continues to stare, her thoughts drifting to the general, her imagination visualizing sparks rising from hewn logs thrown onto embers burning with heat as hot as the fire that created them. Could it be? Is she the reason he is working from home? She spends the next forty minutes convincing herself that her internal dialogue is clearly delusional, no matter how strong the evidence is in favour of its argument. She's still at odds with it as she returns to her room to continue to work on her picture. It is developing beautifully. A third of the outline is finished, the flowers arranged at the top of the bouquet expressed in greater detail than the ones placed center or nearest the vase. That is Shai's method; working top to bottom. She sits atop her cushioned stool and picks up where she left off: an intricate cluster of chrysanthemum florets. An hour later, she is still on the same flower, her frustration rising, the temptation to remove every mum from the bouquet getting stronger with each passing pencil stroke. Just when she thinks she might lose her patience, the doorbell's silvery melody can be heard throughout the condo. Shai rises cautiously to go answer the bell, but the general reaches the door first. Tiptoeing down the hall, she peeks around the corner to see who it is. Just as she thought; it's the TV technicians. Three men follow Sephiroth into the living area and towards the hallway, two of them carrying a very large rectangular box. Realizing she is going to be caught snooping any second, she steps back to her room as briskly as her back will allow, though the sound of Sephiroth's chuckle tells her she isn't fast enough. When she is spending more time massaging her fingers than holding her pencil and swiping at eyes weary with tears, Shai knows it is time to take a much needed break. She makes a mental note to remove all chrysanthemums from future floral arrangements, especially those she intends to make into art. To add insult to injury, the den door is open, allowing her ears to be assaulted by the full roar of drills boring into the den wall. It sounds like they're bringing a section of the building down. She peeks in the doorway on her way down the hall and wonders how the general can get any work done with all that racket. Once in the kitchen, she opens the fridge door and grabs a bottle of water and an individual-sized container of raspberry yogurt. She glances at the oven clock. 11:47am. The general's secretary should be arriving any minute. No sooner does Shai sit down at the island and peel off the foil top to her yogurt, than the bell chimes. She sets aside her snack and answers the door, the general's diminutive assistant standing before her, a stack of manila envelopes and files cradled in her arms. “Good afternoon. I am here to see General Sephiroth.” Shai smiles and nods, stepping to the side to allow her to pass. She walks straightaway towards the hallway. Her posture is stiff, her demeanour one of chilly indifference, a woman as cold and brittle as ice frozen to twigs on snow covered boughs. Shai gives her the benefit of the doubt and imagines that once stripped of the drab business suit and no-nonsense shoes, she is probably as stiff and indifferent as she is now. Regardless of whatever personality quirks she may have, Shai bets she is the perfect assistant. The general wouldn't settle for anything less. Shai returns to the island and dips her spoon into her yogurt. A few bites in and the condo goes quiet. The noise from the den has ceased, no doubt by order of the general while his secretary is with him. She scrapes the last of the yogurt from the sides of the container, and tosses it into the recycle bin. Pulling a large heirloom tomato and a package of gourmet bacon from the fridge, she begins preparations for the general's lunch. First, she cuts half the tomato into thick slices, seasons them with sea salt, and sets them aside. Secondly, she heats a skillet for the bacon.The strips sizzle and pop as she lowers them onto the hot cast-iron, flipping them until they are a crispy brown.To finish, she transfers them to a paper towel-lined plate, and sets them next to the tomatoes. The rest of the sandwich can be cooked closer to 1:00p. She's washing up the skillet and cutting board when she hears the general and his secretary conversing in the hallway, their voices getting louder as they emerge into the living area. Shai does her best not to eavesdrop, but finds it difficult due to their volume and the excellent acoustics in the condo. Even if she does overhear sensitive material, she has no idea what any of it means. The general escorts her to the front door and gives his farewells. When Shai hears the front door click shut, she turns away from the sink to see the general striding towards the kitchen. “What is that scent?” Bacon. “It does not smell the same as the bacon you cooked yesterday.” That is because it is not the same. This is buttery prime rib bacon. He reaches for a strip, but Shai is quick to remove the plate from within his grasp. No. This is for your lunch. Do not touch. “Surely, you do not need all of it for just one sandwich?” His motives cannot be more obvious. Fine. You may have one piece, but that is it. Before Shai can finish signing, he is biting into a bacon strip. She watches, enraptured, as his expression transforms to one of sheer pleasure. He chews slowly, relishing the combination of savoury prime rib with the deep flavour of hickory smoked bacon. She shouldn't be too shocked by his response, because when it comes down to it, who doesn't love bacon? He finishes his gastronomic experience by licking the tips of his fingers and Shai's knees almost buckle beneath her. Lunch will be at 1:00, as requested. “I will see you shortly.” /\/\/\/\/\/\/\ The moment Sephiroth returns to the den, Shai's blessed silence is sullied by not only the incessant whir of the drills, but by the repeated thumping of what can only be hammers. She had no idea installing a 55” TV on a wall mount bracket was so time consuming and noisy, but what does she know about such things. She returns to putting together the general's lunch by slicing the provolone and Gruyère cheeses and Pullman bread. She waits until the clock reads 12:40p to heat up the skillet. Spreading a thin layer of mayonnaise on a slice of bread, she places it mayo side down in the pan. She piles half the cheese on the slice, then tops it with the tomato and bacon, and covers the skillet. Once the cheese has begun to melt, she adds the rest of the cheese and a second slice of bread, mayo side up, flipping the sandwich occasionally until both sides of the bread are golden brown. She cuts it diagonally and serves it with dill pickle spears, exactly like yesterday. She glances at the clock: 12:56. Damn, she's good. When the digital display changes to 1:00, the general appears, an empty water bottle in his left hand. More water?“Yes. Thank you.” He looks down at his lunch.“This looks even better than yesterday's meal.” Shai sets a bottle down at his place at the counter. Enjoy. “You're not eating?” I had a yogurt. “A yogurt.” Yes. I only had enough ingredients to make one sandwich. “Give me another plate.” What for? “Shai.” OK. She does as she is told and is taken aback when he places half of his grilled cheese and two spears on the plate and hands it to her. “Now, sit down and eat. I will not have your strength failing while you are recuperating. Your body is healing, Shai. It needs more calories, protein, and fluids in addition to zinc, omega-3 fatty acids, and vitamins A, C, D, and E. The best source of these nutrients is food. They are imperative not only for a healthy immune system, but to provide you with energy to heal and fight off infection.” Is there anything you do not know? “No.” Would you admit it to me if there was something you did not know? “No.” Hmm. I believe you. “Have I ever given you a reason not to?” No. /\/\/\/\/\/\/\ As Sephiroth crunches on his last dill pickle, Shai is emptying the dishwasher to make room for the lunch dishes. She is emptying the silverware basket when the commotion in the den comes to a stop. She turns towards the general. Have they finally finished? “It would seem so.” Are you excited? “In regards to what?” The TV. “As much as I can be excited about a television.” Popping the last bite of pickle into his mouth, he rises from his seat and places his plate in the bottom rack. He pushes the stool under the counter and picks up his bottle of water. “Thank you for the hot lunch, Shai. I rarely eat this well when I'm in my office. It's usually whatever I can consume while working.” You are welcome. I am glad it is a bright spot in your day. “That it is.” He refrains from telling her it is the company that makes mealtimes the bright spots in his day, although he does enjoy seeing how inflamed she becomes when he provokes her. He is about to give in to temptation when they hear the technicians exit the den. Sephiroth meets them at the front doors, instructs them to send the invoice to his secretary, and lets them out. He turns towards Shai. “Your next treatment should be in approximately one hour.” I will not forget. He returns to work, and she soon hears the TV playing faintly down the hall. She closes the door to the dishwasher and walks to her room to resume drawing the troublesome mum. On her way past the den, she looks through the open door to see two Midgar newscasters sitting side by side behind a desk announcing the day's top stories, while breaking headlines, stock quotes, and weather updates scroll by on the news ticker. Back in her room, she hears the resumption of the rhythmic tapping of an experienced typist. Much to Shai's relief, she finishes the chrysanthemum in time to do her second treatment of the day. This time around goes smoother than the morning, but by a small margin. She still manages to dampen her shirt and her fingers are frozen by the time she opens her book. Time seems to grind to a halt when she is icing her back while the opposite is true for the hot pack. She is in the midst of removing the heat when her phone plays its text notification. It's the front desk. Their grocery delivery has arrived. She finishes putting the pack away and debates whether or not to notify the general about the delivery. She hates to disturb him, but she has a gut feeling if she says nothing, she will regret it. She walks nonchalantly down the hall, smoothing the wrinkles from her shirt, and tucking a stray strand behind her ear. Reaching the den, she is on the verge of knocking when her gaze falls on the general reading a multi-page document from the office of President Shinra. He's reclined in his chair, his legs crossed and elevated on the corner of his desk. His sweater is rippled where it forms to the muscles of his abdomen and the creases down the dark fabric of his trousers makes his legs look longer, more defined. She can feel her pulse quicken. “May I help you, Shai?” His eyes rise from the page to look at her. The groceries have arrived. I will be back in a little while. He doesn't give her a chance to step from the doorway. “You are not going anywhere.” He picks up his phone and dials down to the lobby. “This is General Sephiroth. Gather some spare men to deliver my groceries to my condo immediately.” He taps the end button and looks back at Shai. “They will be up here momentarily.” What shall I do? “You are welcome to wait in here.” Thank you. Shai seats herself on the couch, doing her best to focus all her attention on a business segment on the news, but, in truth, she has absolutely no desire to listen to a long-winded financial consultant discuss rising housing rates or real estate markets. Her desires lie with the man to her left. “Interested in buying a home, Shai?” Oh, no. Why would you think that? “From the way you are concentrating so determinedly on the TV.” I, umm, do not know what else to do. “You could ask me to change the channel to one that interests you.” That is not necessary. The delivery will be here soon. Sure enough, they hear the doorbell resound down the hall. Sephiroth drops the document on his desk and exits the den, Shai a short distance behind him. Unbolting the right front door, he swings them both wide to provide ample room for several doormen to carry the groceries into the kitchen. They place the paper bags on the countertops and the cardboard boxes on the floor. As the men file out of the condo, the general tips each of them generously. Shai wastes no time unpacking the food, collapsing the bags as they are emptied and putting them in the recycle bin under the sink. She's busy organizing the fresh fruits and vegetables into the crisper drawers when she hears shuffling behind her. She turns to see Sephiroth removing the containers and cartons from the boxes and placing them on the counters, then tearing the boxes apart along their scoring as if they were constructed from tissue paper. Shai is expecting him to ask her where items go, but he sorts and puts away the food exactly where it is stored. She closes the fridge and leans against the door, arms crossed, smiling broadly. “And what is so amusing?” I am impressed. “That I know my way around my own kitchen?” Well, yes. “I learned from doing my own field research.” Field research? “A qualitative method of data collection that includes observing, interviewing, and interacting with participants in their environment, such as a community, natural habitat, or even someone's workplace.” Ahh, I see. Like an animal in their natural surroundings. “Precisely.” Shai doesn't know if she should remain impressed at his initiative or be offended to be compared to a wild beast. Well, thank you for your help. It is appreciated. He stacks the cardboard sections in the recycle bin, closes the cupboard door, and turns in her direction. “Always glad to be of help to you, Shai.” He smiles down at her and she blushes a pretty pink. Elated, he leaves her flushed and speechless. He walks across the living area, his mind reinvigorated, prepared to resume reading the rest of President Shinra's tedious report. He enters the den and clicks the door closed behind him. Left behind in the kitchen, Shai struggles to regain her composure. His smooth baritone can turn the most wholesome word or phrase into a sensual feast for the aural sense. And he knows all too well how to wield it. With dinner a couple of hours away, Shai returns to her room, takes up her pencil, and begins outlining a new flower. A half hour or so passes by and she hears the door to the den open, and the general walk down the hall. She assumes he is getting himself a bottle of water or a cup of coffee, but suddenly hears the wistful melody of Mozart's Adagio in B minor. Curious, she sets down her pencil and walks tentatively towards the living area. Lying on the couch nearest the windows is the general, his right arm draped over his eyes. She quietly enters the living room and squats down beside him, gently tapping his shoulder. He lowers his arm and turns his head to gaze into her eyes, entranced by their bottomless blue. Are you OK, Sephiroth? He smiles. “You remembered.” She smiles in reply. Yes, I did. Are you alright? Did something happen? He sighs, turning his face towards the ceiling, his fringe falling away to lie on the pillow. “Bureaucratic tedium. I have much to do after being absent from my office for a week. I just need a moment's repose.” She places her hand on his arm reassuringly, drawing his attention to her. For a precious few seconds, she becomes mesmerized by the details in his eyes: the striking emerald of his iris flecked with iridescent greens and blues and surrounded by a band of cerulean. She thinks back to her first night when she pondered whether she would have the chance to gaze on his features under greater scrutiny, and here she is, almost face to face with him. Her trance is broken when he blinks those long black lashes. She smiles to hide her embarrassment and is about to leave to give him his space, when his hand darts out and grabs hold of hers. “Stay, please, through one more arrangement.” As you wish. Shai forgoes the club chair, grabs a decorative pillow, and sits down, cross-legged, in front of the couch, leaning back against its frame. Is it the smart decision to sit on the unforgiving floor, given her current condition? No, but something deep down tells her it's the right one. Soon, the spirited notes of Serenade in C minor for woodwinds plays from the speakers. Sephiroth clasps his hands over his stomach and closes his eyes, a subtle smile on his lips. But her nearness tests his will. Eventually, he cannot stand it anymore, and he opens his eyes to gaze on her profile. Her eyes are closed, undoubtedly allowing her to engage with the music and the emotions it evokes. He looks on the high swell of her cheekbones, the slope of her nose, and her long eyelashes. His eyes follow the distinct line of her jaw until it leads him to the shape of her lips. Her innumerable curls are swept up, but are simply too long and too many to be contained by a few fasteners and combs. Tendrils spill from above, and along the length of her back. Unclasping his hands, he reaches out to discreetly brush a finger against one, feeling its softness and releasing a pleasant vanilla scent. He has succeeded in destroying one barrier separating them. As much as he wants to annihilate another, he must be patient and wait. All too soon, the serenade comes to an end. Sephiroth sits up and swings his legs off the couch. He rises, adjusting his clothing until it's flawless, then stands in front of Shai, offering his hand. “Allow me to help you off the floor.” Thank you. She accepts his hand. He gently pulls her to her feet, but he does not let go. “Thank you for staying.” She can feel his hold on her hand strengthen. Thank you for asking. Her fingers respond in equal measure, setting his eyes ablaze with a veridian fire. Careful, Shai. Stoke those embers near your heart anymore and he'll feel the heat. “I should return to work.” Yes, by all means. Do not let me keep you. “Believe me when I say, Shai, I would much rather be here with you.” She releases her grip, caressing his fingers ever so delicately as she pulls her hand away. Sephiroth's eyes flare so fiercely the icicle blue freckling the emerald shines as vibrantly as stars glittering from night skies untainted by the manufactured light of men. Shai is breathless and knows if she does not leave now, she is going to faint into his arms. I had best get back to my drawing. I will see you at dinner. “Yes. Of course.” /\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Shai finishes drawing for the day about an hour before supper. Though she and Sephiroth agreed he will assist her with meal preparation while she is convalescing, the recipe she has chosen for this evening is fairly simple. She is confident she can prepare it without the general's help. Cooking the tenderloin itself will not take long, but chopping the ingredients into their measured amounts will be time consuming. Before handling any food, she sets the table, knowing there will be no time once she begins making their dinner. She measures the spices in teaspoons and combines them in a small bowl, then moves on to the liquid amounts of lime juice, chicken broth, picante sauce, and olive oil. She dices the onions and tomato, minces the cilantro, and slices the limes into wedges. Sliding on a pair of disposable gloves to avoid burning her skin, she chops up a jalapeno pepper. She pours a can of black beans into a colander, rinses them, and leaves them to drain in the sink. And finally, she measures a half cup of thawed frozen corn into a bowl. All that is left is the turkey tenderloin. After seasoning the turkey, she browns it in a skillet for several minutes on each side. She pours the lime juice and broth into the pan, reduces the heat, and lets it simmer for twenty minutes. While the tenderloin cooks, Shai sautés the onion and pepper in a smaller skillet until they are crispy tender. She transfers them to the bowl with the kernels, and mixes in the remaining ingredients. Once the salsa is complete, she checks the internal temperature of the turkey to make sure it is cooked through, then removes it from the stove. She carves it into half inch slices and serves two thirds on Sephiroth's plate and one third on hers. She spoons the salsa beside the turkey and finishes off the presentation with the lime wedges. By the time dinner is served on the table, it is 6:30. She fills their water goblets with ice water and cuts across the living room to request the presence of her illustrious general. She reaches the den and gives the door a sound knock. “Enter.” Shai opens the door. From her point of view, it appears Sephiroth is evaluating SOLDIER reports and from the thick stack of folders beside him, he has quite a few to go through. He swings his chair around to face her. Dinner is ready. “My apologies, Shai, but I don't have time to eat. Please go on without me.” He turns back to his desk, opens the report, and continues his evaluation. She stands there for several awkward seconds then throws all caution to the wind. She steps forward, yanks the report from his grasp, and holds it behind her back. For a brief second, he stares at his empty hands, flabbergasted, then his brows lower and his eyes flare with preternatural light. He whips around in her direction. “Shai! What the hell do you think you are doing?!” She shoves the report in the back of her yoga pants to free up her hands. You need to eat! You can resume your reports after dinner! “I gave you my regrets. Now, hand me the report.” He rises from his chair, forcing Shai to take a step back to keep the file out of his reach. After you have dinner. He takes another step forward, but this time she holds her ground. You want me to be me. Well, this is me looking after someone important to me. He takes one more step to stand directly in front of her. His anger has dissipated, but his expression remains intense, the fire in his eyes still raging ferociously. Gazing into the flames, Shai can feel a warmth envelop her body, though she cannot look away. So deeply lost in the fervour she is feeling, she startles when he speaks. “Then we had best eat our dinner before it gets cold.” /\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Approaching the table, Sephiroth picks up the tangy scent of their dinner and is grateful Shai coerced him into eating, though he didn't entirely approve of her methods. Very bold indeed. Although, when he thinks back on their association, Shai has never truly feared him. She may have been wary, but she has always treated him with respect and kindness. Her behaviour in the den was an extension of that kindness. Besides, her admission that he is important to her is promising. He seats himself, laying the napkin across his lap. “What are we dining on tonight?” Spicy turkey tenderloin with black bean salsa. “I thought we had agreed I would assist you when it comes to preparing our meals.” The recipe was simple enough. Besides, I know how busy you are. “Then since you did all the cooking, I will do the clean up. Leave the dishes and I will do them later.” OK. Shai agrees, but knows damn well she is not going to let him clean the kitchen after working a fourteen hour day. They eat dinner without conversation or symphonies from their favourite classical composers. Shai notices that despite the mountain of work waiting for him, he is not rushing through dinner, savouring every bite. He picks up a lime wedge and looks at it strangely. “Is this meant to be eaten? Or do I squeeze the juice onto the meat?” I think it is up to you. She suppresses a smile when he bites into the lime's pulp and sucks out its juice. He discards the rind on his plate, leaving the remainder of the wedges untouched. Shai knows he is finished with his meal when he places his napkin on the table. “I have missed your cooking, Shai. All the takeaway we have ordered does not compare.” She feels warmth suffuse her face and wonders if, perhaps, the general is biased. Thank you, but I find that hard to believe. Our takeout is prepared by accomplished chefs. “And you do not think you are accomplished?” No. My success relies on the culinary talents of others. “Have you ever considered creating your own dishes?” Yes, but I lack the confidence. “I have watched you cook, Shai. You look extremely comfortable in a kitchen.” That is because I have a recipe in front of me. All the hard work has been done. “If you value my opinion, and I think you do, I would not let a lack of confidence stop you.” He picks up his plate and rises from the table. “Now, please pardon me. I want to have the cadet reports completed before bedtime.” No worries. I am almost finished. She hears the racks rattle as he puts his plate and silverware in the dishwasher. She places her cutlery on her plate, gathers the goblets, and walks into the kitchen, passing the general on her way. Shai waits until she hears the door to the den close then begins work on the dishes, but she underestimates the general's sense of hearing, and is startled when his voice thunders from the end of the hall. “What are you doing?!” She drops the skillet in the sink, the iron clanging loudly against the stainless steel. She turns towards him, shaken. I know you said to leave the clean-up for you, but there is so little to do, I knew I could handle it on my own. I do not feel comfortable having you wash-up after working a fourteen hour day. I promise from today onward, I will abide by our agreement. “I will hold you to that promise.”...
SeveredWing
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