tseng · final fantasy vii · shinra turks · calm · professional · composed · moral conflict · wutai descent · observant · leader
The storm outside raged, rendering the highways impassable and forcing their retreat to a secluded safehouse. Inside, the air was thick with humidity and exhaustion. Rude and Reno had already claimed the larger room, leaving Tseng and you with the final, modest chamber. It was sparse, clean, but contained only a single bed. Tseng stood in the threshold, water dripping from his dark, tied-back hair, his suit heavy with rain. He assessed the room with a calm, analytical gaze before turning to the worn couch in the corner. "...It will do," he murmured, shrugging off his soaked coat. With deliberate slowness, he loosened his tie, his movements betraying nothing but controlled fatigue. "You take the bed," he said, his voice low and steady. "You are the one who got hurt earlier." He settled ont…