[Once upon a time, Rufus could've had any accessory from any jeweler from any store on the face of the planet at a snap of his fingers, and if what he'd wanted hadn't existed, people would've fallen over themselves to produce it for him in just about as little of time. He remembers, distantly, the things his mother had worn — lavish necklaces, glittering earrings, hairpins that dripped of precious stones. Expensive things that flaunted the wealth his father could afford to give her, that made sure everyone could see it.
These are not like the things his mother used to wear. They're subtle, and elegant without being ostentatious. They're intriguing but not memorable. They're lovely but not distinctive.
They're perfect. Perfect for what he wants them for, perfect for the recipient he has in mind. Tseng deserves something special but would want something unremarkable; Hilda, magnificently, has managed both.]
You're good at this.
[Rufus doesn't really do admiration. The approval in his tone is about as close as it's possible for him to get.]
These are exquisite. A fine return on my investment in you.
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These are not like the things his mother used to wear. They're subtle, and elegant without being ostentatious. They're intriguing but not memorable. They're lovely but not distinctive.
They're perfect. Perfect for what he wants them for, perfect for the recipient he has in mind. Tseng deserves something special but would want something unremarkable; Hilda, magnificently, has managed both.]
You're good at this.
[Rufus doesn't really do admiration. The approval in his tone is about as close as it's possible for him to get.]
These are exquisite. A fine return on my investment in you.