Reno of the Turks (
raspberryturk) wrote2008-10-06 11:58 am
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Room 429, Monday Afternoon
Reno had survived the end of the world. And Reno had survived class, and now Reno was dragging himself into his dorm room, with the bed in it that he'd been sleeping in for months, and all his booze, and his stuff.
Stuff like his toy helicopter and his dirty magazines and his witty t-shirts and-
There was a rattle and a honk from the cage on the floor.
- And stuff like his ferret.
Perfect.
Reno was going to make his way over there, pull Mako out of his cage, sit down on his bed, and let the little guy chew on his fingers until he lost consciousness.
[Open like an open thing! The door, it's still open a crack, for all your fried-Reno and bouncy ferret needs.]
Stuff like his toy helicopter and his dirty magazines and his witty t-shirts and-
There was a rattle and a honk from the cage on the floor.
- And stuff like his ferret.
Perfect.
Reno was going to make his way over there, pull Mako out of his cage, sit down on his bed, and let the little guy chew on his fingers until he lost consciousness.
[Open like an open thing! The door, it's still open a crack, for all your fried-Reno and bouncy ferret needs.]
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Not that he thought she would take one, but he still planned to try a sales pitch about the concept a few more times.
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And then he was smiling, lifting up the ferret to drape the little guy over his shoulder like some kind of sausage-shaped furry epaulet, prone to honking and the occasional bout of chewing on Reno's earring.
"What kind of jobs? What sorta world?"
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"I need to talk to Yurika. If she would let me I would follow her home, and ..." he frowned. "Work in a shop? Teach? I wasn't raised to earn money, I've no idea how to do that." Though he had the arrogance of the rich that said, somehow, he always would.
"Of course, if she could get out of her job that's another equation, but I've little hope of that one."
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He grimaced a little, realizing how that must have sounded. Here, Romeo, why don't you become a filthy murdering freak like me. The pay's great!
"Doin' anything. You know."
Not the greatest of amendments, but at least it was one.
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Not that Ted Montague got his hands dirty. That's what he had staff for.
"Do you know what else you would want to do?"
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Reno might have deflated a little at that.
"Never gave it any thought. I'm good at what I do. It's kinda all I know, you know? I mean, I could take chunks of it from here or there. Could pilot or service choppers somewhere, maybe. Or do... detective junk. But I think people expect someone who looks more- uh- more professional than I do?"
He shook his head.
"Don't think doin' just any one thing would be what I'm good for, yo."
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"I think you could pass if you wanted to," he decided. "Especially if you lost the hair again, or were in a world like mine where people weren't so dull and gray all the time."
"But that doesn't mean you have to choose any one thing, or not right now."
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"Got a whole, what? Semester and a half? Maybe the summer, too, before I gotta know what I'm doin', anyhow? I'll figure it out. We'll all figure it out. It'll get figured."
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"More than we expected, isn't it?"
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