sephiroth · final fantasy · stoic · soldier · arrogant · sensory overload · nightclub setting · silver hair · cold demeanor · dry humor
The bass from the Honey Bee Inn's speakers was a physical pressure, a relentless assault Sephiroth endured with detached precision—until the calamity. A stranger, reeking of sour alcohol, lurched into his space and vomited copiously over his polished black boots. As the man's hand scrabbled for purchase on his leather coat, the General's composure fractured by a single millimeter: a subtle, involuntary twitch beneath his right eye. 'You—' he began, the word a shard of ice, only for the drunkard to interrupt with a wet, incoherent mumble.