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She could hear Reeve’s voice well before she saw him, nearly hidden at his desk behind the indoor palms and binders of current and past construction projects.
His voice carried, and while she had advised him repeatedly of this fact, he never failed to raise his voice when giving one of his impassioned speeches about some development project or another. She allowed herself a moment to simply watch him — eyes gleaming as he excitedly yelled over his PHS about how the robot arms could be of use in clearing away debris and reinstating the project.
She hoped, for the sake of the person on the other end of the line, that whoever Reeve was speaking with was really into robotics — at least half as into robotics as Reeve was, or they’d likely already checked out of the entire conversation.
“So I have your support?” he asked, his tone bordering on giddy.
“Honestly, that’s more than I hoped for,” Reeve said after another pause. “Thank you.”
She couldn’t help but smile at how genuine his gratitude was. He had been trying to restart construction in the collapsed expressway tunnel for over a year. Rebuilding Sector Six had been an oddly taboo subject with upper management. If Reeve could push anything through towards finishing the sector, it would be a massive accomplishment.
“The Sector Six Expressway?” she asked as soon as he’d placed his PHS back into his chest pocket.
Reeve smiled and automatically reached out his hand for the file folder she had presented him.
“You were spying on me again,” he teased. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to blush. He was at his most attractive when he was delving into city projects.
Stop. You’re his subordinate. His advisor. He relies on you.
She had this internal conversation with herself several times a week. And she still couldn’t commit to addressing him as “Director” in her thoughts rather than simply “Reeve.”
“However, you’re correct. The Sector Six Expressway,” he confirmed, interrupting her thoughts. He flipped the manila folder open to reveal a single sheet of paper and promptly frowned as his eyes skimmed across it. “What is this? A script?”
She nodded. “It’s for that virtual museum they’re building for visitors on the 60th floor. Every member of the executive board has to record an introduction to their department. Your recording time is in ten minutes.”
“Every department head?” Reeve asked, covering his mouth as he yawned.
“Every department head.”
“Even Hojo?”
“Even Hojo,” she said.
“Good luck prying him away from whatever horrific things he’s doing to people upstairs,” Reeve muttered, still looking over the single-page script.
“Director Tuesti!”
She looked wildly around the office, partially for comedic effect and partially because she was one-hundred percent certain that someone from Shinra was watching them at all times. “I hope you don’t say these things outside of this office.”
He looked at her for a moment. His eyes were clear and serious, matching the small frown on his face. She swallowed nervously. They had grown much closer over the past year or so as their workaholic schedules matched each other a bit too perfectly, but she still worried about overstepping. Before she could open her mouth to apologize, he spoke.
“I never would,” he said firmly. “Whatever I say in this office stays between us.”
Stop saying things like that! How can you say that with a straight face?! She internally railed at his earnestness. It was too disarming.
She nodded and his face relaxed. The corners of his eyes still crinkled with unspoken tension and exhaustion, but at least his mouth had turned back up into a small grin.
“Also your chest pocket, sir,” she said, opting for a full change of subject. “Your PHS will stretch it out.”
Reeve sighed, patting it down with his palm after he withdrew his PHS and set it on his desk. “Ma would have my head if I didn’t have a place to put those handkerchiefs she sends me. Thanks.”
He stood up and gave her a slight, sarcastic bow. “How do I look? Camera ready?”
“There’s a stain on your tie, sir,” she said, gesturing just under her own neck. Hopefully he would get the message.
He sighed again, quickly undoing his tie and unbuttoning the topmost button of his dress shirt. “I don’t suppose you know of a spare anywhere.”
She shook her head, both to convey that she didn’t, in fact, have another tie miraculously on her person and also to jar her brain from staring at him for too long. “Sorry, sir.”
“Ah!” He pounded his fist in the centre of his palm as he often did when he was about to go on endlessly about some project or idea he had.
“Do you want to know a secret?” Reeve asked, opening his desk drawer. He pulled out a smaller red tie and held it up to her with a smile. “The ties they give out at the Shinra Academy in Junon are all clip-ons. I don’t think they trusted us to tie our own ties, even the older students wore these.”
She laughed, watching as he looked at the tie in his hands wistfully.
“My parents gave it to me when I made it in earlier this year. It’s not a hand-me-down from my brothers or anything,” Reeve murmured as he stroked the faux red silk.
“Pardon?”
She had made it somewhat of a personal challenge to coax at least one personal fact from Reeve every night they stayed late together, pouring over reports and the work that had to be done. While he had spoken of his Ma and her care packages of hand-sewn handkerchiefs constantly, and his deceased father less frequently but no less affectionately, she would have bet money that he had mentioned being an only child previously.
“I thought you didn’t have any—“ she trailed off as he looked back up at her, somewhat surprised.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I just was lost in a daydream of sorts,” he said.
His cheeks flooded with the slightest hint of pink and she dug her fingernails into the soft skin of her wrist in hopes that the pain would allow her to focus on not staring at her superior with an impossibly fond smile.
“My first-year roommate at the academy, Haneul Song. He had a red silk tie that he told me his family gave him as a congratulatory gift for making it into the academy,” Reeve said. “He had two older brothers, so I can only imagine that his tie felt like a hard-earned victory after a life of hand-me-downs. He would wear it before exams for luck.”
“He sounds like a good friend,” she said, marvelling at the affection in his tone.
She could usually tell immediately how Reeve felt about someone based on how he spoke about them. He was surprisingly incapable of hiding his emotions. In this specific case, he had also saved a clip-on tie that was, in her estimation, at least twenty years old out of sheer sentimentality.
“I think he was quite annoyed with me at times,” Reeve chuckled. “I was three years younger than he was and I asked too many questions.”
He paused, brushing his fingers against the tie again before looking back at her. His eyes were distant. Despite meeting hers, they seemed to look past her at something else.
“He helped me out a great deal at school,” he said.
Her fingers itched to reach out and ask what happened to put such a sober expression on his face, but she knew that he wouldn’t tell her, especially not now when they were about to be late for a company event. She clenched her fists at her sides and settled for a brief response.
“Maybe you should visit him. Or at least call him on your PHS. I’m sure he would appreciate it.”
“Mmmmm. I should,” Reeve hummed. Yet his face fell and he stared at the floor, tie still in hand.
She clapped her hands purposefully, jarring him out of whatever memory had captured his attention. Although he’d never admitted it, she was certain he had an eidetic memory and he was generally prone to overthinking things.
At times like these, it was best to turn him in a forward direction.
“Well, shall we?” She asked, making a show of checking her PHS for the time. “We have five minutes to get down to the Digital Images Centre. It’s on the same floor as the proposed Business Division Exhibit.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry! Of course! Here just let me put this on.” He quickly clipped the tie to the top of his dress shirt and tucked it beneath his suit jacket.
“There. An homage to my academy days and they’ll be none the wiser that it’s a clip-on. Except for you of course,” Reeve said, grinning at her as they walked towards the door.
“It will be our secret, Director Tuesti,” she said, exaggerating his name for comedic effect and punctuating the entire exchange with a mock salute. To her delight, he laughed.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he continued sheepishly, stroking his beard. “I’d probably become obsessed with drilling holes into the walls to see what was behind them and inspect the construction.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Speaking from experience, sir?”
“Of course not!” He laughed and then gestured for her to go through the doorway first, raising his other finger in the air as if to tell her a great secret. “However, the president did tell me once that he got in trouble for doing that exact thing as a child.”
She burst out laughing and he joined in immediately.
“This is definitely going into our MakoTalk channel, Director,” she teased. He wrinkled his nose, but continued to smile all the way to the elevator doors.
When she had first been promoted as Director Tuesti’s assistant, she had noticed his tendency to slip the oddest facts into conversations like they were nothing. Random conversations about designing the reactors or conversations with President Shinra or even the wildest one-liners from Director Palmer. Upon realizing that he let these facts slip into conversations with the other members of Urban Planning and Development, she had then discovered the internal MakoTalk chat dedicated to Reeve-isms.
She was a frequent contributor due to her position.
As she and Reeve had become friends — at least she liked to tell herself that they were, she didn’t know his thoughts on the matter — she had showed him the existence of the chat late one night. Of course, she had quickly clasped her phone to her chest so he wouldn’t be able to take it away. He had blushed and ducked his head before returning to the scattered reports on the small coffee table in front of the two black leather chairs in his office receiving area. More often than not, the two of them migrated there in the early hours of the morning when they were both pulling all-nighters.
“Here, you’ll probably need this.” She handed him the script for the Urban Planning and Development Division exhibit as they walked into the executive elevator.
“Oh, don’t worry. I memorized the script earlier,” he said, although he still took it, folding it neatly and tucking it into the pocket of his trousers.
She bit back a quick, “Of course you did,” because of course Reeve had already memorized this stupid company thing that he didn’t even want to do after what she estimated was a minute of actually studying the script.
“Now look at that,” he said, walking forward towards the front of the glass as the elevator began to move. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Reeve turned back to her with an earnest grin. “I never tire of looking out at the city. Especially given that our floor lacks windows.”
Behind him, the sun was beginning to set over Sector Two. The green-tinged reactor vapour dissipated into the twilight, giving the entire sector an ethereal glow. It was eerie, but beautiful. She told him this, watching his face light up even further at her agreement.
“Right?! This is the most beautiful time of day,” he said. “I know we have a lot to work on still inside Midgar, but we’ve still built some wonderful things.” He turned away from her and looked out again across the city, looking over it with a soft smile.
Your idealism is misplaced, Reeve.
She couldn’t bring herself to tell him this. Not when he seemed proud and satisfied and beautiful himself as the final few rays of the sun light up the sky behind him.
Looking at Reeve like this made her feel like they could actually accomplish something in their department, even as the president continued to funnel funds and resources to Heidegger’s Public Safety Department and Scarlet’s Weapons Development Division.
She cleared her throat as the elevator chimed and a robotic voice announced that they had reached the 60th floor.
“I believe I’ve wasted enough of my precious time as it is,” Hojo’s voice echoed through the hall. “Science waits for no one, after all. So… good day.”
“Well I suppose that answers my Hojo question,” Reeve whispered. “Do you think they’ll leave that in the recording?”