...Words that were meant to chastise, sting. 'There are no parents that don't wish their children happiness.' (Rufus-centric; follows BC canon)
Some days, when the brandy is burning not so pleasantly in the acidic hold of his stomach; when the rain patters in a seemingly eternal cacophony upon oversized windows -- he looks out onto a city that should feel more like his own personal snowglobe and less like a rebuilding process of Sisyphus proportions.
It was almost ironic that he would work so hard to overthrow a man who would die just in time to give up the company as it struggled. Dropped. Fell.
He can't help but wonder if the Old Man is out there laughing within the velvety confines of his overpriced coffin.
And he also can't help but think of that Turk. Of words that spoke of experience from a man willing to die for his child. Words that were meant to chastise, sting : "There are no parents that don't wish their children happiness."
And he supposes, with bitterness fresh on his tongue, that there might be some truth to that. This city. This /corporation/. His dream of happiness in power. Hastily wrapped up. An exercise in regifting, but a gift nonetheless. ...And it was what he wanted, wasn't it?
It was what he wanted.