raspberryturk | Edge, Friday Evening

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Edge, Friday Evening

It was one of those rare nights that Reno had managed to score all to himself, off-duty, with not a single reason to worry about Tseng calling him in out of the blue to do some urgent mission or another. Why? Because Rude had the night off, too, and Tseng knew better than to try to call Reno in when Rude would do the job just as well, and without whining about it.

And so, there he was, sprawled backwards on the couch (and doing an admirable job of ignoring the busted springs in his back) and staring up at the ceiling, contemplating where in the world he was supposed to go from here and the obstacles on his way to wherever that turned out to be.

"Winter's coming, yo." He paused, and then, with a faint smirk on his lips, he added, "Fehdan'c lusehk."

At the very least, it wasn't as though he'd be making the trip alone.

[For that girl who speaks the funny language. And sure, open for phone calls or whatever, if you'd like.]

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"There's less than no need to go skiing for a whole month, anyhow," Romeo said. "You go for the weekend, you fall down, you hang out in the lodge and drink until you're dry and warm."

He rolled onto his stomach. "I've wanted to see you. I didn't know if I could get you away from the beans."

"Contrary to popular belief," Reno noted, "the beans ain't my whole life, pal."

Only much of it, lately.

"I can get Rude to watch 'em for a while, the beans an' Mako. Shouldn't be a problem, there. So long as I promise him video of me fallin' on my ass at least once, that shouldn't be a problem at all."

"Funny, I was watching for the wedding invitation," Romeo said lightly. "Mr. and Mrs. Reno-Bean sounds well, though it might make you a bigamist."

"A weddin' would be pretty big-of-me, wouldn't it?"

... Bigamy was a big word. Reno was going to play dumb. Because he could.

"Anyhow, I think one weddin' a year is enough for me, yo. I don't know that I trust the tastes of a bean plant when it comes to pickin' out rings."

Said the guy who was wearing a ring with tire tracks on it, and who had gotten a band with Hello Kitty on it for Rikku back in February.

"It would probably just give you a vine," Romeo said thoughtfully. "I'd rather not think about the wedding night, it would just be disturbing."

Reno's initial reply now was what one might best describe as a bemused snort, yes.

"Man, I love my beans, but not that way." A pause. "Though I better be careful not to say that too loud. If Fandom's still bent on sendin' its weird out to find me, I might wake up some morning with an entire room full of bean plants in love, yo."

"And you'd best not come back to Fandom next prom, or you'll wake up to a room overrun with baby beans," Romeo suggested, with a snort of his own. "Which -- though adorable I am sure -- would be a bit hard to explain."

"Baby beans," Reno almost choked. "If nothin' else, they'd be the cutest friggin' beans I ever raised, yo."

Reno was nothing if not cocky.

"I'm sure, but I hope you shouldn't eat your own kin."

Romeo thought Reno had reasons to be cocky.

"I can honestly say I never really did develop a taste for family, zoto."

A pause, then, while Reno attempted to figure out where the hell this conversation had just managed to go. He gave up after a little while, shrugged it off, and pressed onward.

"One of these days, I gotta introduce you to a corner of the world that ain't freakin' terrifying," he settled on. "They exist, yo."

Blinking, Romeo decided to let ... wherever this had gone ... slide right past him.

"I'm sure they do," he said instead. "Perhaps we ought split a week -- three days of skiing, three days doing whatever you would like in Edge."

"Costa del Sol," Reno replied, almost immediately. "Nice, warm, sunny beaches, that kinda stuff. Makes up for the snow an' me landin' on my ass so many times while we're skiin', yo."

A pause for consideration.

"Unless gamblin' was a little more your speed. The Gold Saucer ain't too far from there, an' I got more than enough Gil to handle the admission price for you, man. We can bet on chocobo races."

See, all you really had to do in order to find happy tourist traps on Reno's world was check out a completely different continent. And ignore the cities sitting in ruin along the way.

"Gold Saucer," Romeo decided. "It's a fair trick to tempt me away from beaches, but chocobo races might manage it. And I think I could beat you."

If tourist traps were being offered, Romeo would forget he'd sworn off Gaia.

"You only think that 'cause you ain't seen me in my element yet, man."

Reno had bought the lifetime pass to the Saucer for himself, yes. And it had cost him a cool 30,000 Gil. It seemed like a worthwhile investment at the time, considering the job and the fact that he hadn't figured he'd be alive long enough to really miss the money.

"Gold Saucer it is, then!" And Reno would find some way to make the somewhat levelled town of Corel outside of the entryway seem not so bad. Right.

"Gold Saucer," Romeo repeated. "Oh -- I wonder if we could invite Arthur. He hates gambling, but I know he wants to bring you the horses sometime."

"You know, I ain't heard from Arthur in a while," Reno mused. "Couldn't hurt to invite him along, yo. I think he's got Wild Plans percolatin' in that head of his, fulla 'save the world' whatever, yo. Bit of a hero type, ain't he?"

Yeah, somebody really wasn't up on his Arthurian legend, here.

"He is going to be king," Romeo pointed out, idly. He wasn't exactly well-versed in the legends, either. "I think that's most of it. He hasn't figured out what to do with himself while he's stuck at school."

"Well, if you're used to shit tryin' to kill you, it's easy to get twitchy on that island," Reno noted. "I mean, between junk tryin' to eat you, an' other... junk tryin' to eat you."

If something ever invaded the island that wanted to do something worse than eat you, Reno would be shocked and appalled. Mostly because he wouldn't be there to play with it.

"At least he's got that Reserves group to poke at, yo. Provided him an' Leto don't strangle one another before they graduate, anyhow."

"I haven't heard anything to that effect," Romeo said hopefully. He liked Leto. Leto should stay alive. "How are the reserves? I've not asked about them of late."

"So far as I can tell, Arthur and Leto found themselves a kid to take my position," Reno noted, idly. He wasn't sure how much of the specifics he really ought to get into, all things considered. "So they're still runnin'. Heck, the kid's got military experience already, himself. I figure they're doin' just fine, but none of the school functions happen durin' the week, so I ain't seen 'em for myself since grad."

"I wonder if they'd let you come back and teach," Romeo mused idly. "I couldn't do it, but you would be good at it."

"What, teachin'?" Reno blinked and glanced sideways at his phone for a moment. "Maybe I would, yo. It'd be a matter of... what the hell would I teach. I ain't exactly the most educated bastard out there, am I?"

Clearly, what he needed to teach was a course in kicking ass and taking names!

... Or maybe flying. He could teach that, too.

"You've graduated, same as me, and you could teach the reserves -- make a class of it," Romeo suggested. "Weapons. Magic, even if you won't call it that. Flying. World-saving."

He decided to press his luck. "Growing beans."

SNERK.

"That's the important part, and don't you forget it," Reno laughed into the phone. And then, as an afterthought, he had to add to it. "I feed 'em to little kids, mostly. Only had a few for myself since they started growin'. They do more good down below, where the hungry people are."

"I shouldn't poke at you about it so often," Romeo said, more serious this time. "The things I send -- I know it's not enough to feed everyone, but do they help at all?"

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