Reno's previous experience with meglomanical, power-hungry leader types – he had been a pretty avid film fan in his younger days, at least when he could manage to sneak into the backs of various Midgar cinemas without getting collared – had led him to believe that most if not all of them kept sinister, vaguely threatening pets. Mondo Hansome would break into the arch-nemesis's secret lair and there the villain would smugly sit, stroking a cat or a cobra or some manner of poisonous tapir. They seemed as mandatory as giant doomsday guns, or henchmen.

Rufus had a budgie.

Budiges were cute, colourful birds. Some enterprising owners would teach them to ring bells, or perch on an outstretched finger. This particular budgie was neither cute nor amiable; it had pulled out most of its own feathers years before and resembled nothing so much as an ill-tempered and partially drowned chicken. Reeve lost a wedge of earlobe to it during an internal meeting; Elena had been run screaming out of the office on at least three separate occasions by the fluttering devil. Sometimes Reno thought Rufus kept it around just because it made people uncomfortable.

It was perched on the back of its master's chair this evening, looking as evil as ever. Rufus, scribbing away at some internal memo, didn't even glance up from his desk as Reno stepped into the room.

"Good evening, Reno. Having any luck with our lady friend?"

Reno shrugged and rubbed his knuckles. The budgie looked him over with its beady little eyes and hissed. He shot it the finger.

"If I had any fucking luck I wouldn't have cut my knuckles on that stubborn bitch's teeth. She's either tougher than you think or honestly doesn't know anything, and either way she's not gonna be talking again until morning. Mind if I raid your bar?"

Rufus made a fluttering motion with his free hand. Taking this as an affirmative gesture, Reno poured himself a glass of bourbon – shots were for pussies – and slammed it down. The burning was a blessed distraction from the things he was trying not to think about and the feelings he was most definitely trying not to feel. Reluctance, for one.

The budgie flapped closer to where Reno was standing. He mentally calculated how much trouble he might get into for wringing the little fucker's neck.

"How much longer are you gonna have me on this thing, anyway? I mean, Rude's already in Junon, can't you find somebody else to shake down? What about that Gainsborough woman, Elmyra?"

"Reeve is already working on that end of things. If it doesn't pan out, however, we need an alternate source of information. That is the task you are accomplishing, or not, as the case may be." Rufus raised his gaze from the paperwork and shot Reno a bemused look. "Is it too much for you?"

"Please. I hope you're fuckin' joking."

"Good." He pushed himself to his feet and walked to the window, hands folded behind his back. "Do whatever it takes. We need to know where they're going, and we need to know as soon as possible. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Reno debated with himself for a moment, wondering if he should say anything. "Erm ... but what if it turns out she really doesn't know anything? I mean, I'm pretty good at reading people, and ... fuck, I dunno. She just seems like she's telling the truth. You threaten to slit a girl's nostrils, she'll usually talk, you know?"

"If that is the case, or if she continues to refuse speaking, have Hojo take her away. He's always looking for new subjects, it'll keep him out of my hair for awhile, at least. Oh, and Reno?"

"Yeah?"

"Please release Bruntsfield before you leave. I believe he's having a hard time breathing with your fingers around his neck."