raspberryturk | 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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Romeo never was much good getting too deep on painful topics. Arguing confused him; he didn't like feeling that way, so a lot tended to go unsaid.

"I'll send more whenever I'm next to the store," he promised. "Drunk is good."

A second and a slosh later, he added, "I'll send it gift-wrapped next time."

"Oooh, givin' me a gift worth lookin' forward to!" Reno practically purred that sentence out.

He'd never, ever turn down an offer of booze. Especially not lately.

"I feel like I gotta follow that up with somethin'. Is that materia workin' out for you? Or I could send, I dunno. Potions or somethin'. S'the best I got right now."

"Keep what you have for your people," Romeo said. "I have enough to get by. Is there anything else I could send?"

"I'd say seeds, but I got Ino, Dinah, damn near everyone sendin' those already," Reno noted. "Maybe some ferret treats. I don't need nothin', but somethin' to keep Mako from eatin' Rude's shoes would be good."

Smirk.

And an innocent honk in the background, there.

"I can guarantee you I would not choose seeds well," Romeo promised. "Ferret treats, though, I'll send those. And some blood oranges. And -- what shoe size does Rude wear?"

And more Everclear, but that went without saying.

"Rude wears... Friggin' huge," Reno decided, not knowing the answer offhand and not wanting to make the trek across the room to investigate. "Don't worry about his shoes, man. Tseng's still got us in uniform, Tseng can dish out to replace 'em in the meantime."

There was an amused sort of note in his voice about that.

"I'd pay for a change of clothes that ain't Turk-issue, though. I'm walkin' around out there wearin' a frickin' advertisement that I belonged to ShinRa."

Which was fine for his pride, but not so good for his safety when he was off-duty.

"Your suit?" Romeo asked, surprised. "Reno, I could count the number of times I've seen you in anything else on half a hand. An era's ending."

"Yeah," Reno sighed, grinning wryly up at the ceiling. "It sure as hell is, yo. People on Fandom Island don't give two shits what I wear. Around here, it earns dirty looks. I can't be productive an' convince people to pick up the pieces if I look like the guy who helped topple the house of cards to start."

"What do most people wear there?" Romeo asked, scrambling to find a notebook and pen. "Don't say 'clothes' or I'll send you things from the bin to be burned."

Romeo played hardcore.

"Shorts? Jeans? How hot is it? Any colors to avoid?"

"You were here. You know how hot it is," Reno chuckled. "People mostly wear grey. Black. Borin' junk. Nothin' like that wild shirt of yours with all the flowers on it. Nobody wants to stand out. Hell, I don't wanna stand out, not around here. Jeans'll work. Shorts an' I don't mix."

There had been that day with the Bermuda shorts. Rikku had laughed at his legs. Never again.

"I was there, but I wasn't paying attention to the weather or the fashion," Romeo quibbled. "The dragon and the disease stole my attention."

Romeo? Kind of hated Edge. A lot.

"I'll send a box with jeans and black shirts Monday."

"Dragons an' seepin' black bile kinda have a funny way of doin' that," Reno sighed, poking at his bottle. "Thanks, Romeo, man. You're a lifesaver, zoto."

"I do what I can," Romeo said. "I'll call again soon."

Edge, Saturday Afternoon

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