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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"I got nothin' against cold booze, man," Reno decided, tossing another beer nut.

He actually wasn't certain who it was that he was aiming at, anymore. Some poor schmuck trying to enjoy his ass-nasty cheap drink.

"Which would be a great asset," Arthur acquiesced, "If you were in Poland."

"But I ain't in Poland, so I gotta make do with this warm shit that tastes kinda like a carrot went and puked in it," Reno sighed.

Carrots could totally puke, right? No? So much for that analogy, then.

"I just mean, you wanna have your recruits all get the same sorta experience learnin' how to fend off attackers, yo. Might be worth lookin' into maybe gettin' people who have already been there and done that to do the invadin'. We already know our way around, alumni an' junk like that. Think your Rookies can handle an attack by informed opponents with a shitload more experience with the terrain than they got?"

"Actually, I was discussing this with Leto," Arthur started, which was probably a promising start to anyone who knew his history with Leto, "And we're talking about running two drills. A warm-up, as it were, in the Danger Shop, then moving on to an actual one employing students and teachers unattached to the reserves. We're doing a run-up at Fight Club this Sunday."

His rookies.

Huh.

From Reno's mouth, that didn't sound too bad.

"Well, you tell me when it's goin' on," Reno decided, grinning. "I want in on that noise, yo. I'm sure I can get Tseng to give me the time off for it, even. It's for a good cause, an' all."

And anyhow, it wasn't as though Tseng could keep Reno in one place if he had ten feet of steel cord and told Rude to hold him down.

"I'll make sure I do," Arthur agreed, grinning a little bit himself. "Someone's got to keep this semester's new meat on their toes."

Although in Arthur's mind, that might have partially involved Reno pulling another streaker and surprising the hell out of the newbies.

... Well, this was Reno. It wasn't exactly like pulling another streaker was some sort of great impossibility, here.

"That's the spirit! See, you'll get 'em broken in yet, yo!"

Come now, like Reno would ever turn up the opportunity to traumatize the fresh meat?

"Not that Zack is helping," Arthur shared. "I don't even get where he puts all of those cookies." He pulled a face at the phone.

"We got pretty deep pockets on Gaia," Reno replied, vaguely. "ShinRa trade secret, I guess."

Adventurer trade secret?

Don't ask what Reno keeps 99 of in his pockets, please.

"He's gonna make the troops fat, ain't he?" Snort. "I guess that'll make my job easier when I invade, yo."

...Arthur could guess what Reno kept 99 of in his pocket, but that fell strictly under 'your personal business is your personal business', thank you very much.

"Good point," Arthur said, thoughtfully. "Perhaps we need to start off reserve meetings with a hike from now on..."

"Hike nothin'. Make 'em hike the route the first time, sure. An' then from then on, get 'em to run it," Reno laughed. Yes, he was sticking out his tongue. Yes, he actually thought that sounded like fun.

A slight pause. "I did that to Zack once," he said, "I think I kept him running until four in the morning that day..."

Reno had to take that opportunity to pause, too.

"I could'a kept goin' until five."

Yes, the Turk-SOLDIER rivalry was still alive and strong, even if most of the Turks and SOLDIERs weren't.

"And the next time you visit, I'll be happy to let you try that." Some days, Arthur's job as general pain in the ass was so much easier.

"Of course, you'd have to come along for the exercise, yo. Can't let the SOLDIER kid show you up, right?"

Hey, unlike Zack, Reno wasn't content to suffer in silence.

"I'm not the one who took it as a challenge," Arthur retorted. Although now he was kind of starting to. Dammit, Reno.

"And if I manage to show up the SOLDIER kid, and you don't do the run, what does that say, right?"

It was crazy how Reno managed to twist this junk sometimes, wasn't it?

"You ain't willin' to do shit you tell your sidekicks to do, man?"

"Of course I am," Arthur said, glaring at the phone. Dammit, Reno, dammit.

Reno was a bad, bad man.

"How much you willin' to bet on that, next time I'm out Fandom way?"

At least that one he had a good answer to. "I don't bet," he pointed out, "But I'll go for a run with you."

"See, man, this is why you're kickass."

Reno would make a point to not go too absurdly fast. At least for a while.

The Seventh Heaven Bar, Edge, Wednesday Night

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