Reno of the Turks (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raspberryturk) wrote2008-10-12 02:27 am
raspberryturk) wrote2008-10-12 02:27 am
Room 429, Sunday Morning
Rone, the twin of the ill-fated and rather dim, rather wealthy, and stunningly attractive Reno, had spent Saturday in his newly acquired room, rifling through all of his ill-gotten gains. The body of his late brother had been tied up (simply because one could never be too careful) and locked in the closet, where Rone wouldn't have to lay eyes on it until he could find the opportunity to properly dispose of the very clearly, certainly, obviously, and indisputably dead thing.
He didn't mind losing the closet space, really. His twin brother kept very little in his enormous walk-in closet, aside from a few Armani suits and the food for Reno's rarest-of-the-rare prized pedigree Amazon black-footed angora siamese polydactyl scentless albino vegan afghan show-ferret, of course. And Rone had little interest in such trivial things.
No, no, Rone's attention had been on far more important fare. Reno's diary, left on the nightstand with the key conveniently set beside it for purposes of quickening along the scene, had proven to be interesting reading last night. He had learned a great deal about the family that he had never known and about the life that he was now going to assume for his own.
His foolish brother's diary had become his bible, and a red sharpie marker had taken care of the little matter of mimicking the two red birthmarks on his brother's cheeks, which were the only features that, at a glance or a glimpse or even a good, long look, set the two of them apart.
Armed with Reno's entire life story scrawled in flowery calligraphy in a little black book, Rone's plot to have his revenge and to take the family fortune for himself was finally underway. Reno's wallet was in his pocket, and he'd painstakingly perfected the art of forging his twin brother's signature overnight. All that remained now was the process of insinuating himself into every aspect of the life that his brother had once known.
Just as soon as he'd had himself a nice, long, melodramatic laugh, naturally.
[Door is closed, but the post is open, if you'd like to pop in. I'm headed to bed right away, but I'll be around to catch pings in the morning!]
He didn't mind losing the closet space, really. His twin brother kept very little in his enormous walk-in closet, aside from a few Armani suits and the food for Reno's rarest-of-the-rare prized pedigree Amazon black-footed angora siamese polydactyl scentless albino vegan afghan show-ferret, of course. And Rone had little interest in such trivial things.
No, no, Rone's attention had been on far more important fare. Reno's diary, left on the nightstand with the key conveniently set beside it for purposes of quickening along the scene, had proven to be interesting reading last night. He had learned a great deal about the family that he had never known and about the life that he was now going to assume for his own.
His foolish brother's diary had become his bible, and a red sharpie marker had taken care of the little matter of mimicking the two red birthmarks on his brother's cheeks, which were the only features that, at a glance or a glimpse or even a good, long look, set the two of them apart.
Armed with Reno's entire life story scrawled in flowery calligraphy in a little black book, Rone's plot to have his revenge and to take the family fortune for himself was finally underway. Reno's wallet was in his pocket, and he'd painstakingly perfected the art of forging his twin brother's signature overnight. All that remained now was the process of insinuating himself into every aspect of the life that his brother had once known.
Just as soon as he'd had himself a nice, long, melodramatic laugh, naturally.
[Door is closed, but the post is open, if you'd like to pop in. I'm headed to bed right away, but I'll be around to catch pings in the morning!]
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Also of merriment. That laugh sounded so lively, it would easily draw Romeo in.
[OOC: Will be slooooow throughout day but I kind of had to do this.]
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No matter. He would simply have to feign amnesia if the worst were to happen. It sounded as though there had been another unstoppable outbreak of it last night, and he would leave the island none the wiser, Reno's fortune in tow.
He straightened the suit he had stolen from Reno's closet, ran his fingers through his luxurious red hair in order to look more presentable, put on his most winningest of fake smiles, and then pulled open the door.
"Yes?"
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"Oh, Reno, right glad I am to find you home," he said by way of greeting as he walked through the door and slumped onto the floor. "This weekend has brought a further sea of troubles upon my head, or, I suppose, blessings that come at an inopportune time, such that they may seem troubles."
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Or something remotely like it, anyhow.
"Tell me about it," he nearly pleaded, hoping that perhaps if he let this emphatic young man tell him his tale, he'd at least get some notion as to what the proper sort of response might be. "So that I might-" Screw it. He wasn't going to attempt to mimic the boy's speech. "You know. Help."
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He gave Reno an open, pleading look. "I know not what to say to either of them. I cannot bear to break their hearts."
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"Take a seat," he offered, gesturing to the chair that was farthest from the closet, and the terrible secret that he'd hidden inside. "And tell me more."
His brother kept his liquor in the ornate dresser nearby, a convenient place to conceal his dark, secret drinking habit, which had been a source of much woe in the past, according to the diary. He made his way over and pulled out a bottle of scotch, and two fine glasses. One for either of them, offering Romeo a glass and making to pour.
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Reno, on the other hand, was charitable. And stupid.
He had to keep both in mind as he answered this question.
"If I was in a situation like this? I suppose I could press harder, for both. There's no reason that one has to know about the other, is there? Keep your wife, raise your child, and live happily."
A double life. There was nothing strange or unusual about that. Naturally.
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Still. It was tempting.
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Yes, he was aware they were all in high school.
Did that really have to matter?
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"I'm sure you wouldn't die," he mused. "There are other women out there, anyhow. If you can avoid one mess, just make sure you don't go and do something like start another one, right?"
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Love rectangles could be interesting, actually. Rone considered for a moment, smirking, and then shrugged. "You could just move both ladies in under the same roof. Some kinda happy family. Get a little threesome action on in the evenings..."
Threesomes never hurt anyone!
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"It all depends on how you present the idea."
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It occurred to him, distantly, that Reno sounded ... a little funny. The yos were missing.
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He liked to think of himself as more fierce than any dragon.
"Show her. With your hands," he stated. "Your hands and your lips and your body. Talking too much means thinking too much. Don't bother with words. Don't give her the opportunity to think about it."
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Romeo was just going to stare, not sure whether he was repulsed or, strangely, a little turned on.
He decided he wasn't going to stick around and see where either emotion might lead.
"I've bothered you for too long," he said, instead of responding. "I think I should go find Juliet, and then see where things stand. But I thank you for your advice."
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Rone was very good with his hands.
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His day was already odd enough without Reno coming on to him.