Reno of the Turks (
raspberryturk) wrote2008-01-21 11:45 am
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Room 501, Monday morning-ish
Reno did not want to wake up. Reno was wide awake, laying there in his bed, his face shoved as far into his pillow as he could manage without asphyxiating himself, but this did not yet mean that he had actually woken up.
Between stealing his own wallet, making large areas spontaneously combust in a psychopathic rage, and having casual conversation with a lion over the course of the weekend, he figured that it was well within his rights to not have to wake up just yet.
Also, his hair had been huge. And he'd drank all his own tequila. And waking up meant that he'd have to start on his overdue report to Tseng. And any such report, after this particular sort of weekend, was going to have to begin with, "No, really, boss. I'm not drunk, but..."
Reno hated this place all over again.
[[Open!]]
Between stealing his own wallet, making large areas spontaneously combust in a psychopathic rage, and having casual conversation with a lion over the course of the weekend, he figured that it was well within his rights to not have to wake up just yet.
Also, his hair had been huge. And he'd drank all his own tequila. And waking up meant that he'd have to start on his overdue report to Tseng. And any such report, after this particular sort of weekend, was going to have to begin with, "No, really, boss. I'm not drunk, but..."
Reno hated this place all over again.
[[Open!]]
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Rikku took a deep breath and knocked on the door to 501. Half-hoping he wouldn't be there at all and she could leave it with his roommate.
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Reno reasoned his way out of bed by assuring himself that even his bedhead had to be better than the messed-up mane that he'd had on the weekend. And that he was, in fact, himself.
It was, therefore, a shirtless, rumpled up, cranky Reno who opened the door and offered a "Yo" that was completely his own, dammit.
... Oh. Rikku. Maybe he ought to crawl back into bed again anyhow. Dammit, lips, stop smiling.
"Came to take me up on that offer, or what?"
Yeah, Reno. Excellent start to this conversation already.
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Oh, this was gonna go well.
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This was one way to get rid of the frustration that the weekend had brought, anyhow.
"Not tryin' to be funny, zoto. Just makin' sure."
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Reno figured that this response was pretty much adequate, really.
"Really not laughin', here. Should I be?"
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There was etiquette involved in being a manwhore, dammit.
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Furious gesturing was not flailing. Shhh.
"Even if you did mean it, that's worse. What do you think I am!? Some ... sort of ... tramp-thing!?"
It was really not helping that he was just lounging there, shirtless and rumpled and smirking at her and that made her want to ... punch him. A lot.
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"I offered, you said no, I said okay," he replied, "I'm failin' to see how it's really an issue beyond that, zoto." He cocked his head off to the side and smirked, here. "I mean, shit, it's not like anyone's obligated to say yes, here."
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Maybe this time she'd manage to turn on her heel for a dramatic exit? It had kinda failed, the last time.
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"I eat just fine, yo." ... "You talkin' about my ShinRa ID card?"
Reno's identification was really, very not flattering. And slightly outdated.
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No, really.
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Probably a mistake to look down while gesturing, as he was still slouching there, shirtless, pants messy, and she lost her train of thought for a second.
"-- thin now, and you've gotta have twenty or thirty pounds on that picture. Could you count your ribs? Have you heard of sandwiches?"
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It was a very, very not flattering photo.
"Nothin' to worry about anyhow. I'm better now. Eatin' and everything, zoto."
Which, of course, suggested that maybe he hadn't been doing well in the first place. Dammit.
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This life-under-a-huge-plate thing didn't sound like it was for rich people, exactly, so maybe ... uh. Yeah.
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"The pay's just fine," he said, eying her warily. "It's the mako you gotta be careful with, yo."
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She wasn't too sure if this mako was a different street drug or some sort of anti-eating cult, but maybe she should let him talk, this time.
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