raspberryturk | The Seventh Heaven Bar, Edge, Wednesday Night

Admittedly, a Wednesday night was a pretty shitty night to go to any bar that didn't actually have something going on. And, in a place like Edge, it wasn't just Wednesday nights that were like that, even at the most popular stop for alcoholic swill in town. It wasn't as though people were going to get together and sing karaoke. Name that tune was pretty much a thing of the past, too. Trivia night? Not so much. But if you got Cid Highwind drunk enough, he'd tell you all about that time he spent about five minutes stuck outside of Gaia's atmosphere.

Word to the wise: Don't get Cid Highwind drunk enough to tell you all about that time he spent about five minutes stuck outside of Gaia's atmosphere.

Fortunately, Reno didn't come to the bar unprepared. He was a Turk. He came prepared for anything, thank you very much. There was a stun baton hidden up his sleeve, extra money for booze tucked away in one pocket, and a deck of cards in one hand. Tifa even tolerated his presence here because he was more or less good business, and he tended to handle her cutting him off when she'd decided that he'd had enough with... minimal leering. Which made him significantly less obnoxious than some of the folks that stopped in for drinks.

And anyhow, kicking the asses of the bar's other regulars at poker? Totally made hitting this place up on his evening off worth any unpleasant aftertaste that his allotted few servings of Corel Ale left behind.

Hey, it wasn't Reno's fault that Barrett was shit at calling bluffs.

[Open for anyone who might want to give Reno a phone call, or what-have-you. He'll probably gloat at you relentlessly, just to rile up the big guy some more.]

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"Well... They ain't gettin' any worse," Reno replied. He sighed. He was not allowed to be a melancholy drunk in the middle of Tifa's bar.

Another beer nut off the back of Vincent's head cheered Reno up tremendously.

"It's a lotta work, is all. And it's startin' to sink in that maybe my help ain't the help that people want. Or... Maybe even need, zoto. Tokyo or Verona sound pretty damn nice compared to puttin' in a lot with not much in the way of results, yo."

"You need some time off," Romeo decided. "You know that any time you wanted a job in Verona for a few months -- or longer -- I'd set it up."

He added, "I'm sorry people don't appreciate what you're doing."

"Eh, people appreciate it right up until they realize who's doin' it. They don't want ShinRa's help."

Cid spat on the floor at the mention of the business name. Tifa looked at him admonishingly. Cid then said a few choice words under his breath and got down on his hands and knees with a napkin.

Reno rolled his eyes at him and threw another beer nut.

"What kinda work is there in Verona, anyhow?"

"'Tis a city, so there'd be any work you can imagine," Romeo told him. "But for the Montagues ... I would likely recommend you for security. Bodyguard work, some building security. It might be nothing as exciting as you're used to."

"Not as exciting, but probably half as big a drag, yo," Reno pointed out. "I ain't opposed to security work, man. Part of my job description is security, after all."

"There's a beach," Romeo pointed out. "And sun, and lovely girls ... say the word and I'd set up a meeting with my cousin. He's doing the hiring."

Romeo was not actually aware there was any problem with nepotism.

Hey, Reno had no problem with it if Romeo didn't!

"I'll think about it, man. How's that sound?" A beat. "Between you an' me? I been kinda missin' Fandom a bit. How sad is that, huh? Missin' high school."

"I got to take the best part of Fandom with me," Romeo said, because he was a ridiculous and utter sap. "I know what you mean, though. Things were ... clearer there, somehow."

"More alive, maybe. Or maybe it was just more simple. Like we all knew who the hell we were, an' we could just go from there."

Which was kind of weird, come to think of it, for Reno. He'd gone to that school without the faintest notion as to who he was supposed to be. He'd left knowing exactly who he was, and maybe even a little proud of that fact. And here Edge was, slowly picking him apart again.

Romeo hesitated for a long moment. He sometimes forgot how insightful Reno could be in the right mood.

Or when he was half-drunk.

"It gave me back who I was," he said. "After Juliet died, after all of that -- I wasn't really alive for a long time."

Half-drunk, right mood, it was all the same in Reno's head, at any rate.

"For what it's worth, man? Who you are is pretty kickass, yo."

And here was where Reno toed the dangerous line between 'insightful' and 'lovey drunk.' He was fairly certain that he hadn't crossed it quite yet.

Just to be on the safe side, he demonstrated how obnoxious he was by attempting to get a beer nut down Tifa's cleavage from across the room, instead of targeting Vincent's head again.

He missed.

Romeo laughed softly into the phone. "Next you'll be telling me I have lovely eyes and asking if you can see me home."

Which didn't mean he didn't appreciate the compliment.

"An' it all ties in to how much you'll still respect me in the morning," Reno quipped, trying a second time for Tifa's cleavage.

It bounced off of the counter, and settled by Cloud's shoe. Damn it, this wasn't going well.

"I thought we had it settled, Reno. I'll always respect you."

"Well, then I ever tell you you got lovely eyes?"

What? Why not?

"Not nearly often enough," Romeo said, still laughing.

The Seventh Heaven Bar, Edge, Wednesday Night

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