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Genesis wasn’t nearly drunk enough to deal with Angeal being alive and taking up space in his actual apartment with his awkward, honorable self. Not nearly drunk enough at all. But he could fix that.

As soon as Sephiroth was relatively stable, Genesis ran for the hills. He did at least leave his Restore materia behind in case Angeal needed to fumble with it tonight to give their friend some extra healing, but he didn’t think it would be necessary. Sephiroth was tough. Inhumanly tough, as if anything less could be expected from Shinra’s perfect monster. Still, Angeal would probably fuss over him for days. For as intimidating as the bulky man looked if you didn’t know him, he was an insufferable mother-hen sometimes. Or had been. Whether or not he had changed, Genesis didn’t think his emotions could handle watching that.

So he ran. Or flew, more accurately. There was a local wine bar that he’d been intending to visit ever since it had been prominently featured in Torensten’s festival. The Poet’s Pen. Even the name called to him, and he could only hope that a night of poetry, books, and other debauchery could help him forget what awaited at home.

The establishment likely wasn’t a huge fan of its patrons coming in from the roof, but in Genesis’ experience, walking the street with a wing out tended to cause excitement. So instead, he landed lightly on the rooftop, tucked his wing away beneath his red leather coat, and entered through the rooftop door. This seemed to put him in a staff-only stairwell, but he descended quickly and confidently, ignoring a few questioning ‘Sir’s?’ from the actual employees until he’d managed to find his way towards the bar.

It was everything that Genesis had wanted. The bookstore half of the establishment seemed a bit sparse at this hour, but there were still quite a few night owls drifting around exploring the rows of shelves. Others had already selected their volumes and were reading on cushioned chairs, steaming mugs of coffee on the table in front of them. But the lower floor of the Poet’s Pen was where the real action was at this hour. A busy bar stretched along the back of the room while various crowded booths and tables faced a small stage at the front. A girl in a turtleneck was currently the only occupant on the stage, reading from an open spiral-bound notebook clutched in her hands. Her poetry actually wouldn’t have been half-bad if she hadn’t seemed so horrendously nervous.

Genesis managed to edge his way into an open seat at the bar, glancing at the bartender morosely once he was approached. “A bottle of your driest red, please. And if you could secretly make it even dryer, that would be great.” The man didn’t seem to know what to make of that, and Genesis rolled his eyes when he was presented with a bottle of pinot noir. “It will do.”

The bartender uncorked it for him and poured him a glass of the wine first--Genesis assumed it was required, but it was the bottle that he drank from instead after he’d paid and looked back at the stage. A boy had taken over reading poetry onstage, and while it wasn’t bad either, the theme made Genesis purse his lips. Of course it always came down to love with humans, didn’t it? Love lost. Love gained. Love you’d never managed to grasp at all. Genesis had barely had three sips of wine and yet he was already so irritated by it all that he rose to his feet, the bottle clasped in one hand and the full glass in the other.

He wasn’t entirely sure what his plan was as he marched towards the stage until the steps leading up to it were at his feet and a man was tugging at his elbow. “Sir, you need to sign up beforehand if you want to do a reading-”

Genesis cut him off by shoving the full glass of wine into his hands and leaping gracefully up the stairs with the bottle. The boy from before was packing up his things, but he went a little faster when he noticed Genesis glaring at him. Good. Maybe he had some sense after all.

The microphone in the center of the stage was a pitiful magically-created thing that failed to rival anything from Midgar or Sonora. Still, Genesis gripped it one-handedly as he set the wine bottle down by his feet. He had a feeling he’d need it. Most of the people at the tables didn’t seem to really notice that this was unscheduled, but a few of the more avid fans were glancing at the playbills in front of them and looking a bit confused. Let them. This wouldn’t take long.

“Loveless. Act IV.” He glanced a bit languidly at a spot above the lights before continuing. “My friend, the fates are cruel
There are no dreams, no honor remains
The arrow has left the bow of the goddess

My soul, corrupted by vengeance
Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey
In my own salvation
And your eternal slumber

Legend shall speak
Of sacrifice at world's end
The wind sails over the water's surface
Quietly, but surely.” It was all that he’d meant to say. The man just offstage was angrily gesturing for him to get down, but his hand tightened on the microphone instead as his own unofficial ending to Loveless rose to his lips. He’d only finalized it after Zack had left him to drift off on the cliffs of Banora.

“Even if the morrow is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return
To become the dew that quenches the land
To spare the sands, the seas, the skies
I offer thee this silent sacrifice.”

Genesis dropped the microphone. There were stares from the audience and a scattering of applause from people who hadn’t noticed that anything was wrong. For his part, Genesis made sure to retrieve his wine bottle as he leapt off the front of the stage and landed lithely below. He pressed the wine up to his lips as he made his way through the tables to the back of the room again. It was sweeter than he remembered.

[attr=class,ooc-notes]This is self-indulgent and I apologize for nothing.