Edge, Friday Evening

It was one of those rare nights that Reno had managed to score all to himself, off-duty, with not a single reason to worry about Tseng calling him in out of the blue to do some urgent mission or another. Why? Because Rude had the night off, too, and Tseng knew better than to try to call Reno in when Rude would do the job just as well, and without whining about it.

And so, there he was, sprawled backwards on the couch (and doing an admirable job of ignoring the busted springs in his back) and staring up at the ceiling, contemplating where in the world he was supposed to go from here and the obstacles on his way to wherever that turned out to be.

"Winter's coming, yo." He paused, and then, with a faint smirk on his lips, he added, "Fehdan'c lusehk."

At the very least, it wasn't as though he'd be making the trip alone.

[For that girl who speaks the funny language. And sure, open for phone calls or whatever, if you'd like.]