This is as close as Reno will probably come to putting his arms around Tseng unless there's some drastic change in this meeting. This is more their speed, really. As tempting as it is to want to hang onto him and never let go, Reno knows as sure as anything that there are other ways to hold onto something dear. That is, you don't cling to it and smother it and try to hide it—you fight for it. You fight with it. This is how he's able to partner so well with Rude, because they defend each other. Because they make their commitment and dedication known in just how ruthlessly they'll smash skulls together to have each other's backs, even if it's over petty shit (Cloud fucking Strife). It's not really any different with Tseng, at its core. They do things in an even less conventional way, maybe. Definitely. But, y'know. It probably says enough that what suited Reno more wasn't cradling Tseng's face and holding his hand as he suffered and died, it was...
Mm, y'know? Let's just focus on this pretty, pretty picture, instead. Reno's expression twists into an even sicker sort of delight at this fucked up joke Tseng makes. He's almost tempted to ask on the spot if he can see it. The scar, that is. He's got one, too, right? Healed as if it's had plenty of time to recover, enough so that all there is is a lack of pain and an abundance of a reminder, one that won't ever disappear entirely. He may very well ask at some point, but he knows as sure as anything that if he asks to see that, he's going to want to see a whole lot more. Here in this particular spot is not really where he wants to start that bunch of bullshit. Instead, Reno cackles, "Bet yours is better than mine."
And then he realizes—that's right. Tseng hasn't seen it yet. So he lifts his cheek from Tseng's shoulder just enough to turn his body toward him. Typical wide-open uniform shirt, not like he ever wears anything else even when he isn't on the clock half the time. The cut of his suit hides some, but not all of the wide pierce through his chest. Tseng would've seen it when it was fresh and bloody and oozing, but it's a thing to behold now. It's as if a week passed since it happened, maybe a little longer. It's such a smooth, clean scar for such a vicious, ugly thing, Reno can't help but be impressed with it. That's how you know the blade is truly masterwork. And that the person using it is truly skilled. He's kind of a lowkey swords fanboy, you see, it's all that Wutaian anime. And when he was very little he thought someday he'd like to be a SOLDIER and swing a big fuckin' sword, too. As Reno tugs back his shirt to show off the rest of that scar, smirking, all he can think is that the only thing he wants to do with any sword anymore is take that big motherfucker Zack (and now Cloud) carries around, wrest it from their hands, and—
Not now. You see how he loses the color in his eyes when he gets to thinking like that? He's having a very difficult time maintaining control over this part of him. It'll get easier now, though. Or it'll get harder, because Tseng knows exactly what's going through his head, he's certain. Nobody else shares their brand of humor, after all. "I remember every second of it. Do you?" Wanna compare notes? Wanna fantasize about it? Wanna just fucking go apeshitt? Right now? Right here? Down there, in that city? Wanna just burn it all to the ground? Do ya, do ya, do ya?
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Mm, y'know? Let's just focus on this pretty, pretty picture, instead. Reno's expression twists into an even sicker sort of delight at this fucked up joke Tseng makes. He's almost tempted to ask on the spot if he can see it. The scar, that is. He's got one, too, right? Healed as if it's had plenty of time to recover, enough so that all there is is a lack of pain and an abundance of a reminder, one that won't ever disappear entirely. He may very well ask at some point, but he knows as sure as anything that if he asks to see that, he's going to want to see a whole lot more. Here in this particular spot is not really where he wants to start that bunch of bullshit. Instead, Reno cackles, "Bet yours is better than mine."
And then he realizes—that's right. Tseng hasn't seen it yet. So he lifts his cheek from Tseng's shoulder just enough to turn his body toward him. Typical wide-open uniform shirt, not like he ever wears anything else even when he isn't on the clock half the time. The cut of his suit hides some, but not all of the wide pierce through his chest. Tseng would've seen it when it was fresh and bloody and oozing, but it's a thing to behold now. It's as if a week passed since it happened, maybe a little longer. It's such a smooth, clean scar for such a vicious, ugly thing, Reno can't help but be impressed with it. That's how you know the blade is truly masterwork. And that the person using it is truly skilled. He's kind of a lowkey swords fanboy, you see, it's all that Wutaian anime. And when he was very little he thought someday he'd like to be a SOLDIER and swing a big fuckin' sword, too. As Reno tugs back his shirt to show off the rest of that scar, smirking, all he can think is that the only thing he wants to do with any sword anymore is take that big motherfucker Zack (and now Cloud) carries around, wrest it from their hands, and—
Not now. You see how he loses the color in his eyes when he gets to thinking like that? He's having a very difficult time maintaining control over this part of him. It'll get easier now, though. Or it'll get harder, because Tseng knows exactly what's going through his head, he's certain. Nobody else shares their brand of humor, after all. "I remember every second of it. Do you?" Wanna compare notes? Wanna fantasize about it? Wanna just fucking go apeshitt? Right now? Right here? Down there, in that city? Wanna just burn it all to the ground? Do ya, do ya, do ya?