[At first pass, it might seem as though that command is intended to have Darkstar remove her tentacle from Tifa's wrist, but it quickly becomes apparent that's not it at all; she promptly gets up to her feet and gives herself a good shake, making her chain collar and its bells jingle faintly as she's given leave to relax herself, and the way she disengages from Tifa and settles into position at Rufus's flank makes clear — that whole time she'd been under command, and from nothing more than that wordless two-finger gesture. Conspicuous, too, is that now her nails click softly against the marble floor as she trots, where previously she'd moved lithe and silent like a panther across the expanse.
After a moment to let Tifa fall in on his other side, Rufus leads the way confidently through his penthouse, past a room with a high arched ceiling and curved walls clearly designed to make favorable acoustics for the grand piano housed within, and further down past an atrium-style room that appears to be — of all bizarre things — a miniature personalized stretch of beach complete with mock-ocean. At last, he turns into the room opposite the beach down the same hallway: a comfortable sort of recreational leisure room done up in blues and tans instead of stark white, with a full bar, a billiard table, and a range of seating from chairs to loveseats to divans.
The bartop, by now, looks lightly lived-in; a bottle or two of Rufus's whiskey label of choice have been left out on the counter, as has an empty glass with a napkin underneath, but for the most part the selection on the shelves behind is robust and untouched, and he motions idly to it with one hand.]
no subject
[At first pass, it might seem as though that command is intended to have Darkstar remove her tentacle from Tifa's wrist, but it quickly becomes apparent that's not it at all; she promptly gets up to her feet and gives herself a good shake, making her chain collar and its bells jingle faintly as she's given leave to relax herself, and the way she disengages from Tifa and settles into position at Rufus's flank makes clear — that whole time she'd been under command, and from nothing more than that wordless two-finger gesture. Conspicuous, too, is that now her nails click softly against the marble floor as she trots, where previously she'd moved lithe and silent like a panther across the expanse.
After a moment to let Tifa fall in on his other side, Rufus leads the way confidently through his penthouse, past a room with a high arched ceiling and curved walls clearly designed to make favorable acoustics for the grand piano housed within, and further down past an atrium-style room that appears to be — of all bizarre things — a miniature personalized stretch of beach complete with mock-ocean. At last, he turns into the room opposite the beach down the same hallway: a comfortable sort of recreational leisure room done up in blues and tans instead of stark white, with a full bar, a billiard table, and a range of seating from chairs to loveseats to divans.
The bartop, by now, looks lightly lived-in; a bottle or two of Rufus's whiskey label of choice have been left out on the counter, as has an empty glass with a napkin underneath, but for the most part the selection on the shelves behind is robust and untouched, and he motions idly to it with one hand.]
Have at. I doubt you'll find it wanting.