He's not used to Scarlet being so quiet. Reeve/Scarlet, implied sex.
Scarlet sat up at that moment, sliding off him and away from his touch, sitting on the edge of the couch. She still wore her dress, which was now crumpled around her waist, but her bra had somehow made it's way to the floor, and she didn't try to conceal herself when she reached down to pick discarded garment up. It wasn't about lack of modesty, but lack of shame, and Reeve envied her then. Many people trash-talked behind her back, and Reeve wasn't noble enough to not nod along to the gossip, but none of it ever seemed to effect Scarlet, while Reeve himself constantly worried about what others thought of him. Scarlet didn't even need to care, that's how confident she was with herself. With Reeve it took a toy cat and a Moogle to finally dare, and even so only in Gold Saucer, where the oddest things were welcomed.
It was so easy to convince himself that he hated her.
"So, you're moving out tomorrow?" Scarlet asked suddenly, pulling the shoulder straps of her dress back up. This was similar to the tone she usually used if she happened to talk to him, absently interested, but maybe it took her smirk to make that tone hard. He nodded when she glanced at him, blushing slightly when he realized that he hadn't zipped his fly back up yet, which brought familiar amusement on her face. Desperate to sound casual, grasping for his zipper, he mumbled:
"Yes. They had the most of the furniture ready, so there wasn't much to move there." Because this apartment had never felt like home, although it made a suitable symbol for the wealth and power that he had, so he wasn't really sad to leave it behind. And yet it was something like grief he felt now, trying to imagine life into the soft darkness around him and Scarlet.
Maybe it would have made a nice home for somebody else, but soon enough Sector 7 entirely wouldn't be home for anybody.
"It took you long enough. I never understood why you bothered with all that traveling, anyway." Scarlet looked at him, her eyes cool in a completely familiar, expected way. She hadn't been anything else but herself with him tonight, but somehow she had looked so bare in his eyes, her presence missing it's usual edges. But naturally it had been him who was truly naked.
And if that was compassion in her eyes, he might just have to go out and kill something.
Her skin felt cool against his as she touched her fingertips to his face, drawing his attention. He blinked, and nearly drew back in surprise, but somehow he managed to stay still. She grinned faintly, sliding one finger over his mouth as she murmured:
"Try to get through tomorrow."
Her exit, sharp click of her heels on the floor followed by the door whispering close, echoed in his head for a long time.