Once Rufus is settled upon the comforter, Tseng runs a hand over his shoulder, squeezes once. Perhaps he has missed many years between them (is it missing, really, if they await your return?), but he has to believe that some cues between them survived these differences. In this, he means to leave Rufus with some small measure of comfort that he will return.

He takes the files with him. They are deposited in a neat stack upon the hardwood desk on his way to the serviceable kitchenette adjacent to the main parlour. He puts the kettle on, waits out the whistle by clearing Rufus's bloody clothes off the rug and hovering by the bedroom door to make his presence known.

And then there's the whistle. Finally, he slides into bed with Rufus, offering him the steaming cup of tea in his hand. It absolutely infuriates him that he is the first to think to do this. He's furious that Rufus was able to even arrange this meeting without a proper guard. But all of that is trained away, compartmentalized, saved for later with a mental note to order a few staffing changes when he has the time.

For now, Tseng will personally have to do.

"Tell me how you came to the decision," he says, very slowly, with excruciating care, "to face Sephiroth alone. How was this arrangement made? Who did you bring with you?"