raspberryturk | Edge, Saturday Afternoon

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Edge, Saturday Afternoon

There were some things that were totally worth getting in trouble with the boss for, Reno decided. Being a grumpy son of a bitch was good for things like getting on Tseng's nerves, teaching the rookie how to run for cover, and also for getting sent on impromptu vacations to other worlds in order to visit the girlfriend.

It had totally been worth it. But, as such things tend to go, this vacation didn't last forever, and soon Reno was hopping another portal back to Edge.

The first thing he did upon getting home was reach for the Everclear that Romeo had sent him. Romeo was still the best buddy ever, and Reno was going to have to find some way to make it up to him. Maybe he'd ship him some porn or something. That was always excellent payback, right?

And then he checked the texts and voicemails that he'd missed lately. Which led to a lot of alternating between laughing and frowning. Killing beans and killing babies were two very different things indeed. But hey, verbal Twitters were amusing, at least.

It wasn't until he went to check on the beans to be certain that they were still alive (they were) and the ferret to make sure that he wasn't dead (he wasn't) that a chunk of plaster fell from the ceiling, hitting Reno solidly on the head and reminding him quite firmly that he wasn't in Spira anymore.

Sigh.

"Home sweet shithole."

[NFB for distance and all, but Reno's open for phone calls, text messages, random letters, and all of that good stuff.]

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If Reno actually had a house of porn, Romeo would be quite impressed.

"Yo," Romeo drawled in return. "Are you still in Spira, or are you back home now?"

"Chillin' out on Rude's lumpy couch," Reno replied, grinning up at the ceiling. Oh, it was good to hear Romeo's voice, dammit.

"Bedchamber of champions," Romeo suggested, and apparently Reno had drawn the version of Romeo's voice that remembered it was 2009 and not 1609.

"I'm glad you went to see Rikku. Good break?"

"Damn good break," Reno agreed. "Even if it was kinda like a mandatory vacation, yo. It was productive, anyhow. An' I got to be with Rikku for her birthday, which I ain't gonna complain about, ever."

Streeeetch. Grin.

"Got that care package you sent, zoto. I gotta say, I approve."

Those were sloshing sounds of approval, right there.

"I called her," Romeo said. "She sounded happier than she's been in a while."

He heard the sloshing and started rummaging through a drawer. "I thought you'd like it," he laughed, and -- recovering his whiskey -- added, "I'm going to have a drink with you."

"Over the phone, huh?" Reno gave a pleased sort of laugh at the thought. And then he very nearly asked 'what's your poison,' but he thought better of it. Bad choice of words, considering. "What'll you be drinkin' tonight, partner?"

'Partner' was totally a Turk word. He'd been a little overworked, and now that he was back in Edge he was falling into that mindset all over again.

"Jack Daniel's, cos," Romeo said easily, oddly pleased by the 'partner.' "I have some orange soda but I don't see it mixing, do you?"

Straight booze. He felt all hardcore.

"And I know you have the Everclear and the rum."

"Man, I wouldn't ruin good Jack's with nothin', nevermind the orange crap," Reno chuckled. "I got the Everclear out, myself. Does wonders for the sinuses, zoto."

Not that there was anything the matter with his sinuses, after a week and some change of breathing in clean, unpolluted air on a different planet.

"I didn't know you had sinus problems," Romeo observed, and took a swig of the whiskey. "It was a weird week here. How's home?"

Reno washed down a chuckle with a mouthful of delicious burning. Mmm, Everclear.

"Home's still home," Reno decided. "Or as close as it's ever gonna be. Ferret's still a dumbass, Rude's still got a big mouth, and apparently the beans are supposed to be yellow, so I don't feel like such a big dumbfuck now."

Such stirring conversation, Reno's beans.

"... beans can be yellow? Wait, why did you feel like a dumbfuck?" Romeo thought Reno was anything but, usually.

"I thought they were dyin'," Reno replied, leaning forward to look at the beans across the room. "Takes a special kinda talent to kill off beans, of all things, apparently. But yeah, I guess there's some kinda bean that's yellow instead of green, an' that's what I got happenin', here."

Which meant that he had successfully grown real, useful, edible food in a city in the wastelands. Where there was no fertile soil to be found, anywhere.

Which meant that he was humming a victory song in his head, hell yes.

"That means your plants grew into food," Romeo said, after he took a moment to contemplate and chug more whiskey. "That's ... congratulations."

A pause.

"Even if they are yellow."

"Yellow beans," Reno crowed, hoisting his bottle upward and making a horrible mess of Everclear down one sleeve. "It's friggin' awesome, ain't it? What's next? Purple carrots? Black radishes? White pumpkins? Red oranges?"

All of the above actually existed. Perhaps it was for the best to not inform Reno of this, or else he'd make it his personal goal to cultivate Gaia with weird-ass crops.

"m pretty sure they have the red oranges," Romeo said, heedless of what was for the best. "They're called blood oranges. Freaky, but pretty."

"...I want some," Reno decided. He'd figure out how the hell to grow them once he actually had his hands on them, dammit. "They can be all... symbolic, or some shit."

Symbolic oranges. Reno was starting to feel that Everclear buzz, alright.

Romeo sipped from his bottle again and coughed. "Fruit that gives sweet blood as juice. Symbolic of ... oh, of lives lost to just cause?"

He could try!

"I'll ship you some."

"Symbolic of that, sure!" That sounded as good as anything, dammit! "Thanks, man! I appreciate it!"

Romeo was, like, the best Romeo ever. Ever.

Reno missed him, dammit.

Damn it, Romeo missed Reno when he sounded that way.

"I'm trying to think of what to tell you about here," he free-associated. "I'm not doing too badly with staffs" -- Arthur might beg to differ -- "reserve meetings are cropping up everywhere, I fought with Ino this week, we had a fire drill...."

"Ino left me a text about that," Reno noted, idly. Just to say, hey, I knew that. Huh. "The reserves are really takin' off, huh? All the better for fightin' off gators with, yo. Man, I'm sorry I missed that, too. You been workin' that baton at all? Gettin' better with Blizzaga?"

"Yes. ~~In a totally handwavy way.~~ You always ask me that," Romeo said. "It made green ice the other day."

Huh. "What did Ino say?"

"Didn't smell like petunias or anything this time?"

Maybe he could make sno-cones with it, next!

"Oh, Ino didn't say too much," Reno ~~lied~~ said. "Mentioned that you asked her somethin' about babies. Wasn't too clear on the details, zoto."

"I didn't notice a scent," Romeo said, a touch defensively. He shifted, sitting up against the wall. "I asked her how a mission was, and she said it was fine but she was bruised. So I asked her if it was worth the bruising and it was like she didn't understand the question."

"Maybe," Reno said gently, "she didn't understand the question?"

It was weird, being the guy who could see both sides of this argument. Especially since he was the one with so much more blood on his hands than Romeo and Ino combined. Easily.

"It's not a hard question," Romeo argued. "Either something should be done or it shouldn't. You can't just say it's orders and not think about that -- and you're different."

He couldn't explain why Reno was different; he just was.

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