[Reno beats him to the punch by miles and leaves him stunned in the dust. See, Roche's plan was to link arms and walk in like he owned the place, like he belonged with the limited knowledge he picked up from more... professional (whoring) nights in his past. Hell, Roche wasn't against holding hands by any means either considering how handsy he gets with people.
It's just this is... different.]
They won't do that.
[His voice is so quiet he almost doesn't hear himself, but it's just loud enough to be picked up between the two of them. Roche's eyes are focused on their hands and the way Reno's fingers slot together with his. Like it's some... new, fascinating oddity that dropped itself into the world. Of course he's done this once before too - probably when he was coming out of that post-death hangover when he was vibing on his bed with the selfsame Turk. Something about this particular moment stirs something within his chest.
Heartburn? No... It's something familiar but foreign all at once. There've been moments where Roche has felt something similar to it on the road. Whatever it is always hits fast, hard, and vanishes just as quickly as it appears, but not this time. This was more subdued. Lingering, even. Something he almost, almost wants to chase and hook his claws into just to savor it.
But just like the former feeling, it doesn't last. Slower to depart, but by the time Roche finds himself squeezing Reno's hand, it's gone. Whatever. That'll be something to bash his head against when he's covered in engine oil and grease.]
If this starts to feel like too much, give me a signal.
[Roche remembers being completely overwhelmed the first time someone brought him to a place like this, and almost ten years ago that shit was nowhere near this high-end. If the first ride had been a Hardy Daytona, this was an Ecosse.
Taking a breath himself, he waits for Reno, and brings them in. For a moment, he may as well be a different person, putting that SOLDIER air to good use. Head high, shoulders back, and a pleasant, clipped tone that refuses to take "no" for an answer. They're with Shinra, and he'd called ahead days ago, squared it away... Perhaps even the President himself would want to schedule events if it's satisfactory enough. "Of course," a "this way," and he silently trails after the host. Everything beyond the entryway is just as gaudy and tacky as the outside. The pillars scattered throughout the room even take after the deity the place was named after, almost mechanical, powerful, and gold. The piano playing away center stage off to the side? Gold, black and ivory all in one. Were he more musically inclined, Roche might even swoon over it. The two of them both stand out compared to everyone else, but that's to be expected. Let them stare all they want. Let them see what they'll never have.
Fun.
And one of the VIP tables, of course. Champagne, fancy napkins, Too Many Utensils, and the best goddamn breadsticks this side of Midgar all sit on the tabletop. "Someone will be with you shortly," and Roche doesn't miss the nerves in the man's voice as he turns away on his heel so fast he nearly trips. Pulling a chair out first, he tilts his head down towards it.]
After you, dear. And... I've got it covered tonight.
no subject
It's just this is... different.]
They won't do that.
[His voice is so quiet he almost doesn't hear himself, but it's just loud enough to be picked up between the two of them. Roche's eyes are focused on their hands and the way Reno's fingers slot together with his. Like it's some... new, fascinating oddity that dropped itself into the world. Of course he's done this once before too - probably when he was coming out of that post-death hangover when he was vibing on his bed with the selfsame Turk. Something about this particular moment stirs something within his chest.
Heartburn? No... It's something familiar but foreign all at once. There've been moments where Roche has felt something similar to it on the road. Whatever it is always hits fast, hard, and vanishes just as quickly as it appears, but not this time. This was more subdued. Lingering, even. Something he almost, almost wants to chase and hook his claws into just to savor it.
But just like the former feeling, it doesn't last. Slower to depart, but by the time Roche finds himself squeezing Reno's hand, it's gone. Whatever. That'll be something to bash his head against when he's covered in engine oil and grease.]
If this starts to feel like too much, give me a signal.
[Roche remembers being completely overwhelmed the first time someone brought him to a place like this, and almost ten years ago that shit was nowhere near this high-end. If the first ride had been a Hardy Daytona, this was an Ecosse.
Taking a breath himself, he waits for Reno, and brings them in. For a moment, he may as well be a different person, putting that SOLDIER air to good use. Head high, shoulders back, and a pleasant, clipped tone that refuses to take "no" for an answer. They're with Shinra, and he'd called ahead days ago, squared it away... Perhaps even the President himself would want to schedule events if it's satisfactory enough. "Of course," a "this way," and he silently trails after the host. Everything beyond the entryway is just as gaudy and tacky as the outside. The pillars scattered throughout the room even take after the deity the place was named after, almost mechanical, powerful, and gold. The piano playing away center stage off to the side? Gold, black and ivory all in one. Were he more musically inclined, Roche might even swoon over it. The two of them both stand out compared to everyone else, but that's to be expected. Let them stare all they want. Let them see what they'll never have.
Fun.
And one of the VIP tables, of course. Champagne, fancy napkins, Too Many Utensils, and the best goddamn breadsticks this side of Midgar all sit on the tabletop. "Someone will be with you shortly," and Roche doesn't miss the nerves in the man's voice as he turns away on his heel so fast he nearly trips. Pulling a chair out first, he tilts his head down towards it.]
After you, dear. And... I've got it covered tonight.
[Code for; Go Fucking Ham My Dude.]