etrayalogs | ( open ) experience has made me rich and now they're after me

— making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass and i'm homebound;
AROUND THE CITY.

[It's one of the afternoons when it isn't pouring rain outside, and Rufus can be found walking around the under-development sections of the city on a route that takes him roughly between the Kwik Trip and the diner, accompanied as always by his guard hound, Darkstar. He's got an umbrella that's doing an admirable job of keeping the rain off, and Darkstar doesn't seem to mind getting wet; though she keeps a pretty consistent vigil at his side, occasionally she breaks off to chase the wildlife before returning to Rufus's side, ensuring that he has a largely uninterrupted path as he makes his idle circuits.

In particular, he tends to linger around mostly-finished buildings — ones that are generally all there structurally but haven't quite taken on a definite identity yet, spending long intervals regarding them with a distant expression before eventually moving on. Though it's largely the architecture he seems to be concerning himself with, there is one exception to that rule: the flowering cherry blossom trees, which he keeps his distance from but keeps stopping to look at anyway, less thoughtful and more just a bit fascinated.

He's easy to run into in a variety of ways — stop for a chat, remark on his companion, spill a to-go cup of coffee on him, whatever! He's out and about and available for accosting.]

[ The diner is quickly becoming one his Dean's favorite places to be. He's used to greasy spoon type food (microwave burritos from a gas station, honeybuns, too greasy bacon and runny eggs), and they've got a pretty decent 24 hour breakfast. Plus, the coffee ain't bad, either. So, that's of course where he's been - it's in the afternoon but breakfast is an anytime food and he'll die on that hill.

He's holding a to go coffee when he leaves, but he doesn't spill it on anyone. There's a recognizable figure that's passing by the door and before he sees the creature with him, he's calling out. ]

Hey, Rufus! I- whoa.

[ That's when he sees and momentarily freezes before backing up against the building hard enough to jostle his coffee. ]

Can you see that? There's a hellhound right, right there-

[ Can it smell fear? Dean's terrified. ]

[Two heads turn at the sound of his name, one human and one canine; it's still something of a rarity to hear his given name used casually when he's had all his life to grow accustomed to Mister Vice-President or sir. And it's the fact that he's not really one to show outward enthusiasm at the drop of a hat that buys him a few seconds to hide his surprise, when what he expects will be an unexpected but welcomed turn of events abruptly turns into —

...Abject terror?

It's an assessment that occurs in a fraction of an instant; he knows Dean is a self-proclaimed hunter of monsters, and his assessment is actually almost spot on the money — a hellhound would be a slightly different breed, with a few more heads. But for someone so adamant about his own expertise in the matter, so desperate for listen first and argue later, he wouldn't have expected such a vehement recoil from something as petty as the sight of his dog.

Except — he says can you see that. Is that just surprise, or is he actually expecting not to be believed? Curious. But either way, leaving a potential ally quaking in his boots isn't exactly conducive to anything, so...]

D, back.

[He says, with a brisk gesture of one hand; Dean's terror had indeed drawn her attention, and her intent focus only breaks when Rufus commands her otherwise. If a hellhound can look dubious, Darkstar certainly does in that moment, but she pads a few steps backwards without complaint, adding a little more distance between herself and where Dean has pinned himself against the building.]

She's trained. Not like the random creatures that have been running about unchecked, lately.

[ Showing fear isn't something he likes to do, because that's weakness. Emotions are too, but Dean's an emotional bastard and either spills his guts or bottles it up until he explodes there is no in between.

Fear, though. That's used against you, and he's made it glaringly obvious there is a deeply rooted tendril of pure terror buried inside of him. Has he been scared in his line of work before? Sure. Definitely. But he's pretty good at keeping it covered but that looks like a hellhound and he has a damned good reason for being afraid of those. ]

It - she's - yours?

[ He's rigid where he stands, relaxing only a tiny fraction when there's some distance added. Makes sense for a hellhound to be trained, Crowley's certainly were, but still. He can't take his eyes off of her. ]

She's mine.

[And there's a part of him that thinks, offhandedly, that it's really not his job to try to comfort the agitation of anyone else; that's not how the world works, and he himself knows that better than anyone.

But he also knows by now the things that Echo does and asks of them, and can imagine the things that will be done and asked in the future, and a competing thought arises — that someday, despite his best efforts, he might someday be rendered shaking and vulnerable like this by something that happens here. And Dean strikes him as the kind of person to remember a kindness rendered, if only because he also knows how rarely it happens to people like them.

He keeps his movement casual as he takes a step forward, shifting just slightly so that the way he's positioned obscures a little more of Darkstar from Dean's line of sight.]

I've got her. She doesn't disobey.

[ With even more space put between both himself and the demon dog, he relaxes a little more and unclenches his ass, grip on his cup loosening. ]

Sorry. Kinda got a, uh. Thing.

[ Dean doesn't really like dogs as a result of several things - hellhounds ripping him apart and dragging him to hell, ghost sickness making him flee from a yorkie. Ellen and Jo being torn to shreds.

He licks his lips and lifts a shoulder, forcing his expression into something more wry, self-deprecating. ]

What can I say, we all got a thing buried somewhere, right?

Well. She's not exactly made to come off cute and cuddly.

[And yet there's an affection in Rufus's remark that he doesn't bother to hide, because while it's objectively true that she's far from a purse chihuahua, that doesn't make her any less his pet. It takes an undeniably unique set of circumstances to see past the pointed ears, glowing red eyes, and knifepoint teeth — but of course, what is Rufus Shinra but an undeniably unique sort of person.

He reflects again, just briefly. He's not really inclined to send her away, and she won't like it if he does, but — as gestures go, it's a worthwhile one. Worth considering, at any rate.]

She could stand a little exercise. I can give her the run of the street if you'd prefer a wider berth.

Nope, nope - I'd agree with you there.

[ He's still a safe distance enough away and while he would absolutely like for Rufus to turn that terrifying beast loose, he shakes his head, holds a hand up to wave it off. He still remembers what it was like when he threw Cas out of the bunker because that prick Gadreel made him.

It doesn't feel good, sending your best friend away to get hunted down by angels like an innocent doe.

Not the exact same, but still. ]

Nah, it's fine. She's fine. Um, what's - what's her name?

Edited 2024-04-28 20:42 (UTC)

Dean. I've got her.

[It's reassurance, of a sort — measured, calm, steady. He half-turns, continuing to keep himself carefully positioned between where Dean is standing and where Darkstar remains patiently waiting, signaling with a slight but practiced motion.]

— D, to me.

[A command he could've given with the hand motion alone, but he figures that adding the verbal will be more for Dean's benefit than his dog's — the better to reinforce that impression that he's got control of her, so that she comes off as responding to his commands and not just to subtleties that a casual observer might have missed.

She trots over briskly, coming to a halt at his side, and he deliberately leans down a little to greet her when she arrives, taking her muzzle into his hands and stroking affectionately behind her ears.]

Her name is Darkstar. Mine since she was a puppy.

[ He clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee - cold, by now, but it does give him something to do with his hands when the canine trots over.

Jesus Christ. ]

Darkstar. Cool name, very Star Wars. [ His eyes flick between the hound and Rufus, forcing himself to stay calm. She's very obviously well trained and at this point, seems fairly disinterested in Dean. Personally, he'd prefer to keep it that way. ]

So how old is she, then? [ he's starting to low key wonder if Rufus is some kind of demon ]

[Funny thing about growing up in the environment of the Shinra Corporation — you learn pretty fast not to confirm information like "she was genetically engineered by a mad scientist and he's not the type to share around the formula". It tends to make people nervous for some reason.]

Her breed is long-lived.

[SHE HAS A PREHENSILE TENTACLE ON HER BACK, WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE YOU PICKED HER UP AT THE RESCUE SHELTER.]

I suppose it must be five or six years now. It's hard to maintain friendships alongside corporate responsibilities, so she proved a good fit for companionship and security both.

Oh, I'm sure. She's, uh - quite the deterrent.

[ In SO many ways and Dean has so many questions that he is not sure where to even start. What in the seven rings of hell created this creature?

Now he HAS to ask. ]

And still pretty young, too. So was she like, a rescue....stray....demonic gift from hell...?

From my father. So, you're not far off.

[In This Thread: Rufus Shinra accidentally suggests to Man Who Might Not Take This Figuratively that he may or may not be the son of some administrator of actual hell. Which, strictly speaking, better describes Sephiroth but it's not like he's that far off himself, given the givens.

Either way, possibly a good idea to start sidestepping the subject a little.]

You've seen something like her before, I gather. [And evidently it spooked him so bad that he has a terror reaction to it now.] Did you used to hunt something like her?

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[ I should've listened to the cashier and gotten that umbrella. Jason looks up to the sky and blinks away a raindrop that lands in his eye. Oh, well. Nothing I can do about it now. With a resigned sigh, he hikes up the collar of his black leather jacket, grips the Kwik Trip bag tighter, and hustles through the streets.

A few minutes later, his heavy boots splash through a large puddle blocking his shortcut straight through a mostly finished building of some strange design. This better be faster. Managing not to get lost, Jason hops over some counters and abandons the door across the room for the open window, offering a quick exit. With practiced ease, he clears the window sill and almost comes crashing into a familiar face.

In a split-second move, he tosses the bag up in the air. Redirects his weight to dance around Rufus, managing a quick grin between the stint, and lets his momentum carry him forward to softly catch the bag coming back down. ]

Whew! I thought I'd lost you there.

[ He talks to the egg carton he takes from the grocery bag to check for cracks. Satisfied, he returns the carton and turns his head to Rufus. ]

Sorry about that. [ He grins sheepishly. Yeah, that was totally his fault. ]. You alright there?

[It's a neat set of gymnastics, all of which unfold in the span of a fraction of a second; it's mostly Jason's reflexes and response time that allow them both to avoid a crash, but that's not to say he's the only one who reacts at all. Rufus, too, moves on instinct to put some healthy distance between himself and the sudden appearance of a random passerby, but the real curiosity of the day comes from the guard dog at his side, whose superior senses had the benefit of a little more advance warning, and thus a little more time to respond.

Something glows green in the vicinity of the dog's collar; a second later, she's hunkered down in an aggressive posture, teeth bared and growling as she fixes her glowing red eyes on the intruder in her midst.]

Careful.

[So says Rufus, once he's had a second or two to recover, but he's yet to make any moves to direct his hound to stand down, either. One thing at a time, maybe.]

She's not a fan of surprises.

Whoah there.

[ Jason backs up a step, raising his hands up in immediate surrender. My... what big teeth you have. Baffled by the sudden appearance of what looks like one of Damian's strays, it takes him a hot second to link owner and... pet? He looks at the guard dog from hell, taking note of the very big paws. ]

You wouldn't happen to know Goliath, would you?

[ That sure is directed at the very unhappy demon ready to pounce on him, and he sure is taking another step closer to that open window back there. If he makes an escape, he'll have to drop the eggs which he debates for all of two seconds. With his League of Assassins Dagger tucked in his boots, he'll have to jump through the window, take the dagger out, and hope he's still got his head attached by the end of it. At the very least, he'd put up a fight if she-- She?!

His eyes briefly flick back to Rufus in a silent - are you kidding me?! - look before promptly returning to the unhappy girl, growling menacingly at him. This is what you get for skipping out on the diner to avoid the bats. ]

Maybe I can tap down on our surprise run-ins. How about three per month?

[ No change. Jason takes another step back. ]

Okay. I'm good with two, also. What do you say?

Edited 2024-04-28 21:55 (UTC)

[He lets the tension linger just a little bit longer, mostly because he's Rufus Shinra and he's Like That™, before moving one hand down to signal his pet; what's impressive, maybe, is that for all that she's very clearly aggressive and spoiling for a fight, it doesn't take anything more than a single gesture out of Rufus to have her visibly standing down. Whatever else she might be, she's well-trained.]

How about you watch your step next time, and we avoid these little misunderstandings altogether.

[Still — with the initial startle reaction past, Rufus is quick to tamp down on outward appearances, back to projecting a look of generally unruffled calm despite the fact that he doesn't generally let people get so close, and certainly not without warning.]

Monsieur le Comte de Monte Cristo. Wherever are you off to in such a hurry?

[ Oh, he notices just how long it takes the bastard to signal her to stand down. Are you trying to teach him a lesson? Lesson learned. Don't dance in the rain. The easy transition from murdering demon dog to trained murdering demon dog isn't lost on him either. ]

You don't have more of her, do you? You look like a monogamous kind of guy.

[ He says hopefully. One he can deal with. Two? Two dozen? Not so much. Already, he's making contingency plans. If he has to run into her as Red Hood... well... at least, he won't shoot to kill. If bullets even work on that hide. It looks thick. Maybe a grenade launcher? Is that too much?

Monsieur? Oh, crap. ]

Me?

[ He rips his eyes away from Goliath #2 to look at Rufus. You sure do look calm about all of this. Okay, stop ogling the man's dog and pay attention. ]

Uhh... I left the oven on.

[ That sounds plausible, right? Right? ]

Edited 2024-04-28 23:36 (UTC)

I don't need more of her. When you already have the best, you don't settle for imitations.

[He rests a hand lightly on her head, and she settles further still. The alertness is still there, to be sure, but her bared teeth are settling back into a slighter pull-back of her lips, and Rufus seems to be taking her down incrementally — though whether that's necessary or just his preference is impossible to say.]

Sounds like you've met an imitation, though. Who's Goliath?

[ Monogamous, then. Good. He can deal with one.

Knowing she's trained settles some of his initial flightiness. He's no longer trying to inch his way to that open window, at least. That's an improvement. He's encountered all sorts of curiosities including aliens, supernatural beings, and genetically modified disasters.So, which one is she? ]

Not quite an imitation but the closest I've met to -- Uh, what's her name?

Darkstar. It's not a "Star Wars" reference.

[Little by little he is picking up on The Culture Things™ via osmosis, and this just so happens to be one of them.]

And if this Goliath has a name, then it must also have an owner.

[ It takes Jason a minute to connect the dots. Huh, I guess it is. Wait a minute- ]

Do they have Star Wars where you’re from?

[ A parallel universe with an Earth close to his timeline give or take a few decades. ]

As for Goliath, [ he smirks ] his owner is a Demon Spawn.

No. Just a little something I picked up around here.

[That's what he gets for hanging out with pop culture reference people, really.]

...Literal or figurative?

What does it mean if it's not a Star Wars reference? I'm guessing a guy like you doesn't name their [ his eyes slide over to Darkside ] guard dog without forethought.

[ He shrugs. ]

You know, I'm not sure anymore.

Edited 2024-04-30 04:35 (UTC)

I'll be on the lookout for both kinds of demon spawn, then. Just in case.

[He glances down at Darkstar, shifting his hold on her just a little to scratch behind her ears. Whether it's a wordless "stand down" or not, she seems reasonably pacified by it.]

It suits her. It's not any more complicated than that.

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