It's so pretty, so perfect. Reno wants nothing more than to give the same thing back, even though he knows it'll never look as lovely and definitive. He's got his way of making his mark, and he's got so much more to work with. His scar, the one Sephiroth left him, wasn't very big, only flat and wide and very clean and neat. Now it's a branding he can wear with pride. He'd batted around the idea of retailoring his uniform to hide it, or maybe to show it off. Now he knows for sure he'll want it covered, but it isn't out of shame or modesty. It's because this is something he wants only for him. Something he wants others to see only if he lets them. Now, mind you, he lets people see his body all the time without any care in the world about it, but maybe now... he'll change that up a little. Just to keep it special and sacred. You know, for a little bit. Until that sort of thing loses meaning for him again, like so many things do. Tseng is lucky enough not to have the need to wonder, and yet the same benefit of only showing this to those he wants to have see it. Reno intends to give him something to want to keep sacred. His hands twitch—he wants that fucking knife. He wants so much, and Tseng makes it hard not to want so much, covering his pretty face in blood and gazing at him in a way that Reno knows is just as good as adoration on anyone else's face. He rewards by probing his fingers into the tear he's made to widen it, enough to really start the blood trickling, but not flowing. Not digging that deep yet. Not yet— ugh.

Patience is a bitch of a thing to pretend to have. Reno's smile widens, positively enamored. He'd love to tell Tseng exactly how he thinks he looks, what he wants to do, how he feels... like how he'd said all that stupid shit to Rude yesterday. Stupid shit that burns such an amazing contrast to how he feels here, like two sides of a coin. The kind of uncontrollable attraction, admiration, love, physical and emotional that makes him feel safe and human and normal and good—and then the kind that makes him feel wild, impulsive, and violent. He's never been so... complete, before.

Almost. Almost complete.

He takes one hand away, fishes in his pants pocket and luckily he's got another lighter handy. He pulls it out and clicks the wheel, the flame sparking close to Tseng's face. The flickering reflection in his inky gaze sends a shock of pleasure straight to his groin as good as if they were rutting around like teenagers and not tearing each other apart. "Seal the deal," he says, as if he really needs to tell him what the fire's for.