Tseng knows he can't make that promise. He also knows how Rufus feels about it, knows that he made his own promise to the president about his darker impulses. And no, he does not know that Rufus is the one to blame for his wound, but it does not matter. That promise was made because Tseng does not trust anyone but himself to hold steel to the president's flesh. What Sephiroth did has infringed upon that promise.

But not tonight. He moves over Rufus's body, straddling him. He reaches into his boot and retrieves his switchblade, presses the catch and lets it hiss open.

"Pick a word," he says, sounding hollow, empty, completely void as he holds the blade to Rufus's throat. He watches the subtle motions of his breathing beneath the razor edge. "I will stop for nothing else."