[ Truth be told, for a second there, Reno thinks Tseng might just be kidding around with him. In whatever way Tseng "kids around," anyway. That way isn't one of those ways, but sometimes you just never know. It's either that, or maybe he's just trying to be, yanno, cute. That doesn't quite track, either, but it certainly follows the look on his face. He's starting to recognize it, that look. They've shot similar ones at each other from across the meeting table a few times now, and it's honestly kind of funny to him that Tseng seems to be doing better at that than he is, too. Go figure. There's nothing Tseng isn't better than him at. Including being worse than him.
The square appears on the table.
Reno recognizes it right away. Then he gets it. It's not kiddin', and it's not cute. It was actually quite serious, and there's a good reason why, specifically. Because it's a direct violation of his rules. How Tseng knows he knows what this is, he doesn't want to know. He really doesn't. The second he touches his finger to the fabric and slides it across, all his blood goes cold. This is not something anyone is supposed to know about, let alone Tseng. Not even Veld should have known. Honestly, he's not so foolish anymore as to think that his past is as truly invisible as he feels like it is. That's something he began to come to terms with the older he got, the more he realized that everything has a way of finding its way back to you. Case in point: Roche, who may not have known him by sight or name, but who recognized some of the things he had done as a child.
This is a lot like that. Except it's a lot worse than an exploding cactuar parade float and the names a few now-defunct street gangs.
This is like something out of his worst nightmares. And Tseng knows about it. ]
That's a pretty big ask, yeah.
[ The dopey look is gone from his face, eyes cold. He pushes the scrap of fabric away from him with the fingertip he'd touched it with like it's dirty. The thing about how instantly the shade is drawn down over his face, though—the thing that makes it all so fucking damnable, is this: it's still not an ask he'll say no to. And he's sure Tseng must know that, too. Which is why he's asking. ]
What's the job?
[ There better be a good fucking reason you're bringing this up to me is what he's really asking. ]
god dammit im too sleepy to get my wallet
The square appears on the table.
Reno recognizes it right away. Then he gets it. It's not kiddin', and it's not cute. It was actually quite serious, and there's a good reason why, specifically. Because it's a direct violation of his rules. How Tseng knows he knows what this is, he doesn't want to know. He really doesn't. The second he touches his finger to the fabric and slides it across, all his blood goes cold. This is not something anyone is supposed to know about, let alone Tseng. Not even Veld should have known. Honestly, he's not so foolish anymore as to think that his past is as truly invisible as he feels like it is. That's something he began to come to terms with the older he got, the more he realized that everything has a way of finding its way back to you. Case in point: Roche, who may not have known him by sight or name, but who recognized some of the things he had done as a child.
This is a lot like that. Except it's a lot worse than an exploding cactuar parade float and the names a few now-defunct street gangs.
This is like something out of his worst nightmares. And Tseng knows about it. ]
That's a pretty big ask, yeah.
[ The dopey look is gone from his face, eyes cold. He pushes the scrap of fabric away from him with the fingertip he'd touched it with like it's dirty. The thing about how instantly the shade is drawn down over his face, though—the thing that makes it all so fucking damnable, is this: it's still not an ask he'll say no to. And he's sure Tseng must know that, too. Which is why he's asking. ]
What's the job?
[ There better be a good fucking reason you're bringing this up to me is what he's really asking. ]