That's hard to say without knowing what your world is like, don't you think?
You're right. It is. So it's really rude to leave my invitation to smoothies at the Nest unanswered. Maybe you can tell me more about where you've come from, I can deliver your commission to you, and maybe we can both weigh in on the fate of our friendship.
[The whole way to the Nest, Rufus tells himself that he's showing up for the sake of the commission, and not just because This Girl™ keeps hassling him about the concept of friendship. It's definitely just for the commission. And to buy her a smoothie because she's a Three and that's no way to live. It's definitely just that. It's not for any other reason.
Except that he does show up, and he isn't late, and he does look cute (because he knows how to dress himself, thank you very much) in a crisp sport coat and white slacks and a dress shirt with the collar unbuttoned, and his favorite pair of aviators pushed up onto his head like the proper rich boy on forever vacation that he is.
It isn't difficult to track her down. He refrains from waving, but does offer her a nod as he approaches.]
[ Rufus there isn't even any sunshine in the Nest. Why do you need sunglasses?
That aside, she does think that they complete the look. Sometimes you need a little accessory to tie everything together. Case in point, the bow tied around her ponytail that quite literally is tying the athleisurewear look she's chosen together. In a pink tennis skirt and white cropped jacket, she looks like she's just finished a tennis match or practice.
(In reality it's neither. She's just making use the things she's scrimped and saved for - and the closets that she's been allowed to borrow from.)
While he doesn't wave, she does, immediately perking up at the sight of him as she waits just outside the Nest for him. ]
Special? I didn't realize we were starting the nickname trial early, Ruru.
[BECAUSE THE SUN NEVER SETS ON COOL, HILDA, THAT'S WHY. Also, gods bless her for looking like an actually put-together person despite the terrible circumstances of her destitute rank. There's absolutely no excuse for most of the higher-ranked people around to just walk around being badly-dressed eyesores when this is what a Three is capable of.
He makes a mental note to buy her something, just idly. She's not the only one who can't be seen hanging around with unfashionable people, after all.]
It's a practice run. I'm not much of a nicknamer, so I'm working up to it.
[He glides to a halt just near her, clearly ready to go flex his authority on some unsuspecting minimum-wage smoothie workers. This rich bastard.]
[ IF YOU HAVE TO SAY IT LIKE THAT, CHANCES ARE YOU AREN'T VERY COOL, RUFUS.
Just because she's basically a peasant by rank, she's not about to let that dictate how she dresses - even with a limited number of chips at her disposal. And as if she would be seen walking around in the equivalent of gas station clothes. Even if came to that, she probably would have found some way to get a hold of some scissors and thread and make it look somewhat more presentable before wearing them off the rack.
Listen, he can be a rich bastard if it means he buys her a smoothie. But that will not stop her from pouting at the straightforwardness before holding out a little pink gift bag stuffed with tissue paper and tied with - you guessed it - a white bow. ]
Obviously. Did you really think that I'd forget? Even if I had, it's not like we'd have to go very far to get it from my room.
That was an implicit invitation for you to brag about your skills, P.
[How he's settled on "P" as his next attempt at a nickname is, frankly, very stupid, but hey: at least he's settling into the attempt at trying. He takes the bag when she offers it, examining it thoughtfully; part of him clearly wants to dig in and see the finished product for himself, while the other part appears to be conscious that destroying her hard work at gift-wrapping is probably not likely to earn him any points.]
Why not take another swing at it, and remind me how brilliant and talented you are?
[ The nickname earns him a little head tilt of confusion. "P" is a choice considering she has no idea what it could stand for. It's not like there's a "p" in her name. Maybe he could be referring to the colour of her hair or her eyes. The other option is that he's trying to turn "Pauper" into a cute nickname.
Asking for more details will have to come later it seems. For now she can't help but give him another look as faint patches of pink rise to her cheeks. ]
Don't you think you should look at it first before I start bragging about how great I am at a hobby?
[ While the smile that she offers him in return is undoubtedly just as sweet as most of the smiles that she offers up to others, there's a hint of nerves that run through her as he says it.
The fashion here is undeniably different than what she's used to in Fódlan. And while some of it is for the better, fashion is such a subjective thing. Without knowing who this is for or knowing much about them aside from them keeping their hair up, she had little to go off of in terms of colour preference and style. In other words it could be an absolute failure.
And while she's certain she can handle a little attitude from Rufus, she's always avoided the sting of disappointment like the plague. There's no stopping this now though. When Rufus opens it he'll find not one but several items all packaged with equal care. They'll look familiar if only because he had been there to purchase them and watch her pick everything out. Understated, elegant silver barrettes glint in the light. A set of three dark metal pins polished to shine with varying colours of resin (dark blue, a dark green and pearly white) are also nestled in a differnt package. ]
I didn't know how thick their hair would be but all of them held up mine just fine so it should work for them too as long as they know how to use the hair pins.
[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.
[ Her nerves persist up until the moment he says something. For all the years she's spent trying to read those around her, whether it was actively or passively, she finds it difficult to read him as he turns over the pieces in his hands with a scrutinizing eye.
Despite her best efforts, the little sigh of relief that she lets out from under her breath is probably audible enough for him to hear. Or maybe it isn't considering how exasperated she sounds in the next breath. Some part of her recognizes that he's being kind. And that in some other world, his world specifically, this is what someone would equate to praise when it comes to Rufus.
That doesn't mean she can't be a little bit sassy back. ]
You could just say, "thank you," you know. I'm not some business deal.
[ Although that's exactly the sort of deal they'd struck, wasn't it? Attitude gives way to mild embarrassment. ]
I'm glad you like them though. Hopefully your friend will like them too.
[ Is there an emphasis on 'friend' in the hopes that she'll find out more about this unknown receiver? Maybe. ]
Aren't you? I hope that's not a suggestion that you'd like to terminate our business relationship.
[He wags one of the boxes at her, in indication, before replacing it back in the bag.]
Particularly not when I can already see myself putting in another few orders, since this is the quality I'm getting back.
[Is he stalling a little bit to delay the bait he knows she's laid in the water? Absolutely. And normally he'd just dodge the subject altogether, but...well, call him crazy, but there's something about the fact that Hilda isn't afraid to give as good as she gets, and banters with him instead of being perpetually deferential, that makes him relax where he might otherwise stay guarded.
And besides, bragging about the guy he thinks is cute is...an interesting prospect.]
They're for someone I know from home. He's done a lot to make sure my adjustment to the resort went...smoothly. [A pause.] I've never — actually gotten him anything, before. This will be the first.
[ As much as she doesn't love the idea of being referred to as some kind of business transaction, that doesn't mean that she's about to give up a creative outlet. She lets out a noise that sounds a lot like a strangled laugh. ]
Not so fast. Just because I enjoy making things and you happen to have the chips and willingness to spend on the materials doesn't mean that it has to be called a "business relationship". Why can't it just be mutually beneficial?
[ And if he enjoys being her so called art supply sugar daddy, who is she to say no? But no, Hilda! Stay the course. He's clearly just stalling. Isn't he? Her own reassurance/reminder to herself is soon answered and some of her previous embarrassment from before fades. ]
[HE CAN'T PUT "ART SUPPLY SUGAR DADDY" ON A BUSINESS CARD HILDA, FOR ONE THING IT WON'T FIT]
...I suppose we first met when I was seventeen.
[He's quiet a moment, but this time it doesn't feel like stalling so much as reminiscing silently; his eyes go a little distant with memory, like he's trying to figure out how to frame the recollection.]
I wasn't afforded much autonomy, but I did manage to persuade certain people with pull that I would benefit from learning a set of practical skills. Self-defense, crisis response, things like that. And he was the poor rookie saddled with the unenviable job of babysitting the VIP.
[He pauses, throwing a sideways smile her way.]
I'm sure this will come as a complete surprise to you, but occasionally it's fun to be difficult for the sake of attention. I certainly was. But he wouldn't give it to me, and it just made me want to act out more, to see if I could get a rise out of him.
[ Why not? Just get rid of "CEO of Shinra" and make his name a little smaller - you could totally make it work! She'll even do mock-ups for free.
Unfortunately she does knows exactly what he means by being difficult if it means entertainment for herself. But she isn't going to let onto that despite her huffing a little and looking away for a brief moment when he smiles at her. She had always made it a point not to be disarmed by anything anyone did. Particularly men. But when Rufus smiles, however small, she can tell that it's genuine as he recounts his history with someone that really does sound like a friend.
Even if she has that moment of clarity that whatever Rufus presents himself as someone who isn't this cool, collected individual isn't the whole truth she still manages not to miss a beat. ]
Oh, it's more than a bit. Spoiled, pigheaded. I've heard it all and most of it is entirely true.
[Though of course, most of the time he's heard it in tones that weren't teasing, and in ways that weren't complimentary, and his natural response had been to ignore them and rise above it, lofty and self-centered and dismissive. The fact that Hilda will banter with him, even if it's occasionally at his expense, is...
So strangely welcomed, really.]
And I did, but not before he got one of out of me first. That's when I knew I liked him — when I realized that we were alike. People being what we had to be, outwardly, but with...very interesting secrets.
[ It takes being on the receiving end of such insults to know how to skillfully turn them into something where levity can be found in them.
The way she had gracefully floated through life had meant that very few of those insults actually made their way to her; it was a combination of most people liking her, people wanting to curry favour with Holst (or who straight up feared the repercussions if word ever got back that they were bad mouthing his precious baby sister), or her acting blissfully oblivious to comments like that.
She acted the part of a spoiled brat because it was and is an effective means of having people purposefully think little of her. How else was she supposed to shirk responsibility? How else could she guarantee a life free of hard work and all play except for maybe the horrors of childbirth?
The fact that he's willing to poke fun at himself makes her lips curl a little higher. So he did have a sense of humor.
As he answers more about himself and this mysterious not!friend she takes several sidesteps towards the café, a silent gesture that maybe this would be way more enjoyable with smoothes in front of them. Her eyes gleam playfully at the mention of secrets. ]
He must really be something if he got a rise out of you. [ He's too cool with his (indoor) sunglasses!! ] Although it can't be that difficult - I just have to spend more time with you. And if there are secrets involved that's just more incentive.
Oh, is that how it is? That's a clever way of inviting yourself into my company more often.
[But he can read a hint, and so he heads with her in the direction of the cafe — and the disparity in treatment, even implicitly, is frankly astonishing. Where Hilda gets sidelong looks and scrutinizing gazes from the resort staff and assembled residents, they all seem to sit up a little straighter and take notice when he sweeps in at her side. A funny little bubble of protection, almost, that he casts just by existing in the vicinity.
Not that he notices, really. That type of treatment is entirely what he's used to — perhaps even with a little less groveling than he might otherwise expect.
Still, with him in the lead, the trip up to the counter is fairly short — as people who might've been thinking about getting in line prudently decide to wait until the Ten has been served — and he gestures for Hilda to put in her order on their arrival.]
Whatever she likes. Charge it to my room — and it had better come out correct.
[ There's no point in denying it. If she wanted to be subtle about it she would have been. And she gets the impression that someone like Rufus appreciated some level of straightforwardness. Her intentions are clear as they had been before this but she's got enough of a read on him now to know that friends isn't a concept so easily grasped when you are used to reading into potential ulterior motives or doing it out of personal duty or responsibilities handed to them.
She allows him to take the lead up to the counter, ignoring the way they scrutinize her with barely veiled distaste and at Rufus like he's very nearly hung the stars. The forced ignorance isn't something she's used to quite yet though there have been moments where she's found herself appreciating it. But she would be lying if she said that she doesn't appreciate being taken seriously even if it comes at the expense of having to be with a higher ranking guest. Rufus' demand is met with a sidelong glance from her but she wastes no time ordering, punctuating it with a sweet smile of thanks that is only hesitantly returned out of fear by the staff behind the counter. She waits for him to finish ordering before they seat themselves and launches right back into questioning him. ]
Is your friend the only one that you know from home?
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A dog.
You think all of those things and a dog are fulfilling enough that you don’t need other things in your life?
[ She’s not trying to be judgey but… ]
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Or is this a, "I'm so powerful and influential that everyone who offered me friendship probably has an ulterior motive," situation.
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Friendship is a two-party proposition, isn't it?
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You're right. It is. So it's really rude to leave my invitation to smoothies at the Nest unanswered. Maybe you can tell me more about where you've come from, I can deliver your commission to you, and maybe we can both weigh in on the fate of our friendship.
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All right. I'll bite. Smoothies at the Nest it is.
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Except that he does show up, and he isn't late, and he does look cute (because he knows how to dress himself, thank you very much) in a crisp sport coat and white slacks and a dress shirt with the collar unbuttoned, and his favorite pair of aviators pushed up onto his head like the proper rich boy on forever vacation that he is.
It isn't difficult to track her down. He refrains from waving, but does offer her a nod as he approaches.]
Hello, special.
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That aside, she does think that they complete the look. Sometimes you need a little accessory to tie everything together. Case in point, the bow tied around her ponytail that quite literally is tying the athleisurewear look she's chosen together. In a pink tennis skirt and white cropped jacket, she looks like she's just finished a tennis match or practice.
(In reality it's neither. She's just making use the things she's scrimped and saved for - and the closets that she's been allowed to borrow from.)
While he doesn't wave, she does, immediately perking up at the sight of him as she waits just outside the Nest for him. ]
Special? I didn't realize we were starting the nickname trial early, Ruru.
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He makes a mental note to buy her something, just idly. She's not the only one who can't be seen hanging around with unfashionable people, after all.]
It's a practice run. I'm not much of a nicknamer, so I'm working up to it.
[He glides to a halt just near her, clearly ready to go flex his authority on some unsuspecting minimum-wage smoothie workers. This rich bastard.]
Did you bring my item?
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Just because she's basically a peasant by rank, she's not about to let that dictate how she dresses - even with a limited number of chips at her disposal. And as if she would be seen walking around in the equivalent of gas station clothes. Even if came to that, she probably would have found some way to get a hold of some scissors and thread and make it look somewhat more presentable before wearing them off the rack.
Listen, he can be a rich bastard if it means he buys her a smoothie. But that will not stop her from pouting at the straightforwardness before holding out a little pink gift bag stuffed with tissue paper and tied with - you guessed it - a white bow. ]
Obviously. Did you really think that I'd forget? Even if I had, it's not like we'd have to go very far to get it from my room.
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[How he's settled on "P" as his next attempt at a nickname is, frankly, very stupid, but hey: at least he's settling into the attempt at trying. He takes the bag when she offers it, examining it thoughtfully; part of him clearly wants to dig in and see the finished product for himself, while the other part appears to be conscious that destroying her hard work at gift-wrapping is probably not likely to earn him any points.]
Why not take another swing at it, and remind me how brilliant and talented you are?
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Asking for more details will have to come later it seems. For now she can't help but give him another look as faint patches of pink rise to her cheeks. ]
Don't you think you should look at it first before I start bragging about how great I am at a hobby?
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[And he'll take that for the cue that it is, unraveling the bow and dipping his hand into the bag in search of the item she's prepared for him.]
Though I assume I will be.
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The fashion here is undeniably different than what she's used to in Fódlan. And while some of it is for the better, fashion is such a subjective thing. Without knowing who this is for or knowing much about them aside from them keeping their hair up, she had little to go off of in terms of colour preference and style. In other words it could be an absolute failure.
And while she's certain she can handle a little attitude from Rufus, she's always avoided the sting of disappointment like the plague. There's no stopping this now though. When Rufus opens it he'll find not one but several items all packaged with equal care. They'll look familiar if only because he had been there to purchase them and watch her pick everything out. Understated, elegant silver barrettes glint in the light. A set of three dark metal pins polished to shine with varying colours of resin (dark blue, a dark green and pearly white) are also nestled in a differnt package. ]
I didn't know how thick their hair would be but all of them held up mine just fine so it should work for them too as long as they know how to use the hair pins.
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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.
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Despite her best efforts, the little sigh of relief that she lets out from under her breath is probably audible enough for him to hear. Or maybe it isn't considering how exasperated she sounds in the next breath. Some part of her recognizes that he's being kind. And that in some other world, his world specifically, this is what someone would equate to praise when it comes to Rufus.
That doesn't mean she can't be a little bit sassy back. ]
You could just say, "thank you," you know. I'm not some business deal.
[ Although that's exactly the sort of deal they'd struck, wasn't it? Attitude gives way to mild embarrassment. ]
I'm glad you like them though. Hopefully your friend will like them too.
[ Is there an emphasis on 'friend' in the hopes that she'll find out more about this unknown receiver? Maybe. ]
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[He wags one of the boxes at her, in indication, before replacing it back in the bag.]
Particularly not when I can already see myself putting in another few orders, since this is the quality I'm getting back.
[Is he stalling a little bit to delay the bait he knows she's laid in the water? Absolutely. And normally he'd just dodge the subject altogether, but...well, call him crazy, but there's something about the fact that Hilda isn't afraid to give as good as she gets, and banters with him instead of being perpetually deferential, that makes him relax where he might otherwise stay guarded.
And besides, bragging about the guy he thinks is cute is...an interesting prospect.]
They're for someone I know from home. He's done a lot to make sure my adjustment to the resort went...smoothly. [A pause.] I've never — actually gotten him anything, before. This will be the first.
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Not so fast. Just because I enjoy making things and you happen to have the chips and willingness to spend on the materials doesn't mean that it has to be called a "business relationship". Why can't it just be mutually beneficial?
[ And if he enjoys being her so called art supply sugar daddy, who is she to say no? But no, Hilda! Stay the course. He's clearly just stalling. Isn't he? Her own reassurance/reminder to herself is soon answered and some of her previous embarrassment from before fades. ]
The first time, huh? How long have you known him?
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...I suppose we first met when I was seventeen.
[He's quiet a moment, but this time it doesn't feel like stalling so much as reminiscing silently; his eyes go a little distant with memory, like he's trying to figure out how to frame the recollection.]
I wasn't afforded much autonomy, but I did manage to persuade certain people with pull that I would benefit from learning a set of practical skills. Self-defense, crisis response, things like that. And he was the poor rookie saddled with the unenviable job of babysitting the VIP.
[He pauses, throwing a sideways smile her way.]
I'm sure this will come as a complete surprise to you, but occasionally it's fun to be difficult for the sake of attention. I certainly was. But he wouldn't give it to me, and it just made me want to act out more, to see if I could get a rise out of him.
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Unfortunately she does knows exactly what he means by being difficult if it means entertainment for herself. But she isn't going to let onto that despite her huffing a little and looking away for a brief moment when he smiles at her. She had always made it a point not to be disarmed by anything anyone did. Particularly men. But when Rufus smiles, however small, she can tell that it's genuine as he recounts his history with someone that really does sound like a friend.
Even if she has that moment of clarity that whatever Rufus presents himself as someone who isn't this cool, collected individual isn't the whole truth she still manages not to miss a beat. ]
So you're telling me that you're a bit of a brat?
[ She's teasing him of course. ]
Did you get a rise out of him eventually?
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[Though of course, most of the time he's heard it in tones that weren't teasing, and in ways that weren't complimentary, and his natural response had been to ignore them and rise above it, lofty and self-centered and dismissive. The fact that Hilda will banter with him, even if it's occasionally at his expense, is...
So strangely welcomed, really.]
And I did, but not before he got one of out of me first. That's when I knew I liked him — when I realized that we were alike. People being what we had to be, outwardly, but with...very interesting secrets.
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The way she had gracefully floated through life had meant that very few of those insults actually made their way to her; it was a combination of most people liking her, people wanting to curry favour with Holst (or who straight up feared the repercussions if word ever got back that they were bad mouthing his precious baby sister), or her acting blissfully oblivious to comments like that.
She acted the part of a spoiled brat because it was and is an effective means of having people purposefully think little of her. How else was she supposed to shirk responsibility? How else could she guarantee a life free of hard work and all play except for maybe the horrors of childbirth?
The fact that he's willing to poke fun at himself makes her lips curl a little higher. So he did have a sense of humor.
As he answers more about himself and this mysterious not!friend she takes several sidesteps towards the café, a silent gesture that maybe this would be way more enjoyable with smoothes in front of them. Her eyes gleam playfully at the mention of secrets. ]
He must really be something if he got a rise out of you. [ He's too cool with his (indoor) sunglasses!! ] Although it can't be that difficult - I just have to spend more time with you. And if there are secrets involved that's just more incentive.
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[But he can read a hint, and so he heads with her in the direction of the cafe — and the disparity in treatment, even implicitly, is frankly astonishing. Where Hilda gets sidelong looks and scrutinizing gazes from the resort staff and assembled residents, they all seem to sit up a little straighter and take notice when he sweeps in at her side. A funny little bubble of protection, almost, that he casts just by existing in the vicinity.
Not that he notices, really. That type of treatment is entirely what he's used to — perhaps even with a little less groveling than he might otherwise expect.
Still, with him in the lead, the trip up to the counter is fairly short — as people who might've been thinking about getting in line prudently decide to wait until the Ten has been served — and he gestures for Hilda to put in her order on their arrival.]
Whatever she likes. Charge it to my room — and it had better come out correct.
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[ There's no point in denying it. If she wanted to be subtle about it she would have been. And she gets the impression that someone like Rufus appreciated some level of straightforwardness. Her intentions are clear as they had been before this but she's got enough of a read on him now to know that friends isn't a concept so easily grasped when you are used to reading into potential ulterior motives or doing it out of personal duty or responsibilities handed to them.
She allows him to take the lead up to the counter, ignoring the way they scrutinize her with barely veiled distaste and at Rufus like he's very nearly hung the stars. The forced ignorance isn't something she's used to quite yet though there have been moments where she's found herself appreciating it. But she would be lying if she said that she doesn't appreciate being taken seriously even if it comes at the expense of having to be with a higher ranking guest. Rufus' demand is met with a sidelong glance from her but she wastes no time ordering, punctuating it with a sweet smile of thanks that is only hesitantly returned out of fear by the staff behind the counter. She waits for him to finish ordering before they seat themselves and launches right back into questioning him. ]
Is your friend the only one that you know from home?
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