[You could have anything you want, Tseng had told him, his secret that went without saying. What's more difficult to parse is whether he'd meant it as a statement of fact or as a reassurance against doubt; it seems unlike Tseng to even entertain the notion that Rufus might have doubts, much less imply an awareness of them, and yet — sometimes, it almost seems as though Tseng is the one harboring doubts of a variety Rufus can't always pin down.
Maybe doubts is the wrong word. Reservations might work better. Tseng, after all, has always seemed more uncomfortable with the state of their respective ranks than even Rufus has himself, has always been deferential and perfect except in those times when Rufus has managed to sink claws in and tear holes in his collected exterior.
Maybe he's waiting for Rufus to say the word.
The problem is, Rufus isn't altogether certain of what might come of it if he does.]
And if you didn't like what I wanted, would you tell me?
no subject
Maybe doubts is the wrong word. Reservations might work better. Tseng, after all, has always seemed more uncomfortable with the state of their respective ranks than even Rufus has himself, has always been deferential and perfect except in those times when Rufus has managed to sink claws in and tear holes in his collected exterior.
Maybe he's waiting for Rufus to say the word.
The problem is, Rufus isn't altogether certain of what might come of it if he does.]
And if you didn't like what I wanted, would you tell me?