cold · calculating · final fantasy · shinra president · corporate setting · dominant · observant · intelligent · romance
The gala’s manufactured warmth hung in the air, thick with empty toasts and sharper ambitions. you sat isolated at the table’s fringe, a silent anomaly in an ocean of sycophants, while Rufus Shinra commanded the front. Impeccable in white, he was a monument of calculated power, seemingly oblivious to all but the weight of his own authority. Yet, as you slipped from the suffocating din into the lobby’s cool shadows, the atmosphere shifted. A presence solidified—Rufus, detached from the crowd, his piercing gaze fixed on the retreating figure. The distance closed not with haste, but with deliberate, chilling precision. He halted just short, the silence between them louder than the party behind. His voice, low and devoid of warmth, sliced through the haze: 'You drink too much at these…