Don't Step On The Flowers

It was perhaps little-known fact that lazy-assed Reno of the Turks made it a daily ritual since coming back to the island to make his way to the beach to train, every morning before sunup. This usually involved a stupid amount of coffee, yes. Which didn't hurt anything. It kept him from accidentally smashing himself in the face with his baton, or something.

He hadn't been able to sleep last night, and so he found himself out a little earlier than usual, alternating between dragging ass and hauling it, trying to get a decent warm-up in before the usual suspects showed up for their own training sessions. He had to look competent, after all, for both the Rookie and Ghanima, whoever came first.

Three steps forward, a dash to the side as quickly as he could manage without dipping into Ghanima's training. Send sand flying in all directions at a sudden stop, and then dart forward again.

He barely stopped before barrelling into the most freaky-looking hole that he'd ever seen, backpedaling like crazy with wide eyes to avoid the pull that nearly yanked him off his feet.

He wasn't so lucky with the one that opened right behind him.

So much for training, today.

[OOC: Just hopping on the establishy bandwagon! Mmm, holes in reality.]

Rone, the twin of the ill-fated and rather dim, rather wealthy, and stunningly attractive Reno, had spent Saturday in his newly acquired room, rifling through all of his ill-gotten gains. The body of his late brother had been tied up (simply because one could never be too careful) and locked in the closet, where Rone wouldn't have to lay eyes on it until he could find the opportunity to properly dispose of the very clearly, certainly, obviously, and indisputably dead thing.

He didn't mind losing the closet space, really. His twin brother kept very little in his enormous walk-in closet, aside from a few Armani suits and the food for Reno's rarest-of-the-rare prized pedigree Amazon black-footed angora siamese polydactyl scentless albino vegan afghan show-ferret, of course. And Rone had little interest in such trivial things.

No, no, Rone's attention had been on far more important fare. Reno's diary, left on the nightstand with the key conveniently set beside it for purposes of quickening along the scene, had proven to be interesting reading last night. He had learned a great deal about the family that he had never known and about the life that he was now going to assume for his own.

His foolish brother's diary had become his bible, and a red sharpie marker had taken care of the little matter of mimicking the two red birthmarks on his brother's cheeks, which were the only features that, at a glance or a glimpse or even a good, long look, set the two of them apart.

Armed with Reno's entire life story scrawled in flowery calligraphy in a little black book, Rone's plot to have his revenge and to take the family fortune for himself was finally underway. Reno's wallet was in his pocket, and he'd painstakingly perfected the art of forging his twin brother's signature overnight. All that remained now was the process of insinuating himself into every aspect of the life that his brother had once known.

Just as soon as he'd had himself a nice, long, melodramatic laugh, naturally.

[Door is closed, but the post is open, if you'd like to pop in. I'm headed to bed right away, but I'll be around to catch pings in the morning!]

So, today had been a long day. Between his best buddy getting shot by some fancy-talking twit on the beach, and the annoying hex that had been placed on him by that nasty, nasty old chick during his and Doji's Sex Ed presentation, Reno was more than just a little ready to curl up on a chair by the window, staring out over the island.

Quietly. Very quietly. The laughing fits had subsided, fortunately, but he was still annoyingly mute.

At least the chittering of the ferret involved sound. When Reno wasn't in A Mood, he'd have to give Mako extra treats or something for helping him preserve his sanity.

[For one person in particular, but open for interaction before she shows up if you don't mind a somewhat one-sided conversation.]

After checking on Romeo this morning, Reno had headed back down to his own room. It wasn't that there was anything of particular interest in there, really. His laptop was still useless and he still didn't have any desire to start on his report back to the boss. It was more that, by and large, he didn't feel up to going anywhere else.

He'd spent a short while looking over the texts on his phone that he'd been ignoring all week.

( There had been a lot of them. )

There had been more like those, but Reno had stopped there, closed his phone, and set it to the side.

He still didn't feel like answering them. Tseng could wait.

Right now, he'd just crack open his window a little, light himself a smoke, and look outside over the island for the rest of the afternoon, and then on into the evening, while the sky grew progressive shades of dark.

[The door is shut, the post is open. Ooooh. :o]

Sleep. Sleep was good. There wasn't enough sleep in the world, and Reno and Rikku had been up late-ish last night, and now he appeared to be in the bed alone. Hrm.

Reno patted the mattress beside him. Yep. No Rikku.

Hrm.

He cracked open one eye and looked around the room. Oh, there she was.

"Uh. What'cha doin, zoto?"

[For Rikku, who was moddilymodded with permission, yo.]