raspberryturk: (Smoking)
Getting out and appreciating being back on Fandom? Reno wasn't up for getting out and appreciating being back on Fandom.

Reno was up for sitting in his room, really. Sitting was good. He'd gotten sleep and he'd handwavily done his morning training with Ghanima, and sitting by his window smoking seemed to be the order of the remainder of the day, at least until radio.

Sitting at the window, reminding himself why it was he always figured Turks don't date.

He was going to go through a few packs, today.

[Door's closed, and post is open, but with an "I leave for work in half an hour and then have Radio tonight so expect super, super slowplay" warning.]
raspberryturk: (Faceplanted owie)
It had been one hell of a long day.

Which was why, by the time Reno finally managed to find his stupid alcove again, he was about ready to curl up on his bed and stop functioning entirely until tomorrow. Maybe wake up for Radio. Then collapse again. That sounded like a plan.

He picked up his phone, eyed it for a moment, and then typed in a text message.

Yo, Tseng. Still a damn Turk.

He shook his head, closed his phone, and dropped it on the floor, message unsent.

Reno wasn't sleeping tonight.

[Shamelessly linkdroppy. Shamelessly. Curtain closed, post open if you want.]
raspberryturk: (Smoking2)
It was another one of those nights. )

[The door is shut, but the post is open. Wheee, character development. Yes, it took Reno this long to learn about gasoline. Way to go, Red.]
raspberryturk: (Hmm.)
Reno was going to sit on his bed and eye his cellphone. Dojima was right, really. If he couldn't understand the concept of giving people time, he should at least call Rude and tell him that he wasn't five anymore, and all reports for the time being would be typed up in a semi-sane manner.

And that would be why he was eying his phone.

He wasn't, however, reaching for it.

It was just fine where it was sitting. He could call Rude up any time, take the heat for getting him in crap with Tseng or whatever, and maybe he'd have things sorted out a little better by then. There were, after all, a lot of things to sort through.

Yeah. Yeah, he didn't have to pick up the phone after all. Save Rude the trouble. The big guy would appreciate it later.

[ooc: The door is open a crack, and the post is totally open for invasion from random persons. Oooooo.]
raspberryturk: (Grumpypants)
Reno was pacing, casually, back and forth in front of the captive that he had duct taped to a tree that he, himself, had made painful acquaintance to a month and a half before.

His Electromag-Rod was resting on his shoulder, and every now and again, he'd give it a very casual sort of tap. Letting his prisoner know that he meant business.

"You ain't been very cooperative with me this week," he spat, then took a mouthful from the bottle of Everclear that was in the hand not currently holding a stun weapon. "I tell you to do your job, and you don't want to, yo. You're supposed to work, when I want you to work. And instead you sit there, like you got some kinda right to it, and you know what? That just don't sit right with me. You understand?"

The rod got another tap on his shoulder. He took another mouthful of the booze, and he turned to face his duct taped captive, pointing his weapon dangerously, sneering.

"I think you're laughin' at me inside. You laughin' at me on the inside?"

No answer.

'No answer' was a bad answer.

The poor, totally demolished laptop learned the meaning of pain, right there. A thorough beating by a drunken Turk with an electrified stick. That would sure teach it a lesson.


[Open if you have some reason to be out in the middle of nowhere in the woods in the dead of night. But otherwise, Reno's content to drunkenly brutalize the hardware in peace.]
raspberryturk: (Default)
Reno was in a mood. But it wasn't as bad a mood as the one he'd been in on Tuesday when he did his broadcast. A few conversations had, at the very least, helped him get his head on straight again, and he'd picked up a replacement for his duct-taped mess of a laptop at T&C earlier, so he was good to go.

In a mood, but good to go.

He cracked his knuckles, loaded his e-mail up, and started to type his report.

Oh, Tseng was going to LOVE this. )

Reno was not the greatest typist in the world, but he was sure that his report got the message across pretty clearly.

[The door's closed, but the post is open if anyone has a burning need to stop in to prod Reno.]
raspberryturk: (Dusting himself off)
He really didn't want to go up to the roof, earlier, to gather up his jacket again. But he did. Had to see.

It was cold when he pulled it back on. Hadn't even been particularly cold out last night. Funny how that worked.

Didn't go too well with the usual Wednesday-morning hangover.

And damn, had he sent out a crapload of fruit baskets. Hopefully they would all get lost in delivery, as he had sent them out while he was pretty damn inebriated, or else the maybe-majority of the population of the island hadn't made the connection between microphone feedback and why they were getting them. Not that Reno cared. Reno was back in his room now, busying himself trying to fit the pieces of his laptop back together. He had a... report to write. By Friday.

This thrilled him to no end. Obviously.

His door was actually open a bit, today. Maybe to let out some of the cold that wasn't really in the air.

[Open for anyone who would like to drop by and rant about fruit baskets, or anything of the sort-- just keep in mind, I've got an hour before I have to leave for work, and then my availability is gone until later this evening.]
raspberryturk: (Looking downward)
"Permission to crawl under the bed and die, sir?" Phone calls. Phone calls were the worst idea that every freaking universe out there could possibly have come up with. Phone calls were going to be the death of Reno, one of these days. This phone call felt like it had the potential. Freaking phone calls.

Cut for Length, Coarse Language, and because the conversation goes perhaps disturbingly dark. )

[Preplayed with the astounding [livejournal.com profile] the_merriest, who continues to be an awesome Tseng. Similarly, the post is open only to the non-Tseng version of the same, if you please.]
raspberryturk: (Smoking)
After checking on Romeo this morning, Reno had headed back down to his own room. It wasn't that there was anything of particular interest in there, really. His laptop was still useless and he still didn't have any desire to start on his report back to the boss. It was more that, by and large, he didn't feel up to going anywhere else.

He'd spent a short while looking over the texts on his phone that he'd been ignoring all week.

There had been a lot of them. )

There had been more like those, but Reno had stopped there, closed his phone, and set it to the side.

He still didn't feel like answering them. Tseng could wait.

Right now, he'd just crack open his window a little, light himself a smoke, and look outside over the island for the rest of the afternoon, and then on into the evening, while the sky grew progressive shades of dark.

[The door is shut, the post is open. Ooooh. :o]
raspberryturk: (???)
Right. So. Reno's brain was not allowing him to function in a straight line today. Too much going on up there regarding a certain girl and a certain argument and then a certain sort of resolution and what the hell, did this mean he had a girlfriend? It did. Didn't it? It probably did.

... He had totally no freaking clue what he was doing, here.

Which meant it was time to bust out the laptop and fire off an e-mail to Rude. Because Rude would just know. He was an ass, but he wasn't... usually stupid. Or whatever. Right?

And so, Reno typed! )

... One of these days, Reno was going to read what he had written before hitting send.

In the meantime, he could always hope Rude would assume he was drunk.

[Door's closed, post is open for slowplay because woo, evening jobs are awesome. I just had to poke at the crack-of-the-day while I still had a chance. Hooray, Babel Fish translations to Italian and back!]
raspberryturk: (So.)
It had been not only that kind of day, but that kind of week. Month. Something. Reno was going to have to make his supply-run into town a quick one, today, as he was fairly certain he was going to be in need of booze after the inevitable conversation with Rikku that they had arranged earlier.

The sober conversation. Where she met him in his room and they figured out what the hell kind of crack they were both on, and then she would leave and he'd binge on whatever the hell the flavor of the day was after his liquor run. He had a little time before that.

He was stalling.

[NFB! For one person in particular.]
raspberryturk: (Looking Up)
Reno really should have known better than to spend so much time with his co-host (the rum, not Jenny) after the radio broadcast last night. He'd felt like crap in the morning, and spent a good piece of the day continuing to feel as such. So he'd stood up Rikku, who he was supposed to spar with. And he'd avoided pretty much anyone else for the rest of the day because he was damn sure he'd be biting off someone's face if he didn't keep to himself.

Killing his roomie because of a rum-induced snit wasn't a good idea, he realized when evening rolled around. So he had found his way up to the roof before any interaction with Tamaki had occurred, too.

There was a sky out there, full of clouds though it might be, and he was perfectly content to sit on the roof and look up at it, letting the chill of the night air bite at his face. Reminded him that he was alive.

Good to be, after feeling like the bottom of someone's foot all day.

[[Shoved off in a wee corner of the roof so I'm not monopolizing it, as this post is for one person in particular. <3]]

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Reno of the Turks

2017

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