insusurro | NO DATE ONLY DINNER (ft the junon scrubs)

NO DATE ONLY DINNER (ft the junon scrubs)

_{[The days following the gala had been relatively uneventful, save for the morning after. There was a necessary visit to the slums - Sector 5 to be exact - and it had gone off without any major hitches. Was it a little awkward? Sure. It had been the first time Roche had gone searching for flowers in Midgar, and the first time he'd actually bought any for something. For anyone. He doesn't count the times he'd been involved with flowers in Junon. Those moments never involved being crouched over a bed of flowers being "relentlessly" teased by the very florist he'd been sent to, prompting Roche to actually look sheepish. Especially after he'd described them and the realization kicked in as to what they were.

Did Reno realize that they were the same ones that were part of the Gnole's motif?

It'd only become worse when she'd started telling him about the best colors to pick, and the meanings behind them.

Turning up Friday afternoon to pick them up had been even worse, and only cemented the fact that this girl - as lovely and as sweet as she is - was a menace. And right up his alley once the overall mortification passed. Yeah, Reno absolutely knew what he was doing when he sent Roche to her. (Note to self: payback.)

Fortunately the rest of the day was going by smoothly, and by the time eight o'clock rolls around? He's ready.

Roche can't remember the last time he'd actually been able to dress himself up the way he wants. In the past, other people had already had things in mind and the gala had been no exception. This time however, it was in his hands and his alone. The jacket and vest went together just fine all on their own with the white dress shirt underneath it all, and while it was tempting to be a little Extra, the tie itself is a simple, plain black one. He already knows they're going to be right menaces, but that doesn't mean you can't look nice while doing it. The real effort came with his hair. He didn't mess with it often, but this time... It's special. The red streaks would wash out easily and while it's not exact, he did his best to match it to the shade Reno wore in the past. The flowers? Now that was the selling point - a not so big, not so small bouquet of red, orange, pink and yellow Amaryllis, accented by a sparse collection of Forget-Me-Nots and smaller wildflowers. The latter weren't his idea, but who was he to complain? Aerith was the flower expert, not him. (Surely she didn't do it to make it weird.)

Even with the car parked on the street behind him, he doesn't look too out of place at Reno's door in Sector 8. One last peek at the time on his phone - ten to eight. Taking a deep breath, Roche straightens up, and knocks.]}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Yeah, he believes that. That Roche was born rolling in mud, that is. He knows it must be true because he himself recalls much the same thing. Being basically indistinguishable from the dirt and trash on the side of the road, his hair so dirty it looked black. His big, colorful eyes cut through the muck, though, or so they say, and he's inclined to believe that, too. He's starting to think these Junon folk have just got The Look. Roche has it. Roche has him by the throat with those eyes, sometimes, and it's got shit-all to do with the Mako.

Like right now, for example. He looks up as Roche beckons him closer, watching his face instead of looking at the menu for the longest moment. It isn't until the snort (so cute, so funny) that he finally takes a gander at what he's pointing out, and.

Wow.

Doucheburger.

Reno barks out a squawk of a laugh that makes all the heads around them turn in annoyance and has to bite his lip to stymie the giggles. ]

Are you fucking—yes, fuck yes. I've never wanted anything more in my life than how much I want to share a d-doucheburger with you.

[ Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Here comes the guy who brought the drinks, now with their bottle of Dalmore 62, and he looks Proper Snooty at the commotion they're raising over here already. Your whiskey, sirs, he says. ]

Yo, we're ready to order. Can I get, uh—

[ You'll place your order with your waiter, sir, says Mr. Only Serves Drinks Apparently, and Reno clicks his tongue, sitting back in his seat and shooting a sardonic grin across the table. ]

Oh, scuze me. That's fine. We'll just get tanked in the meantime. Thanks. Hey, what's your name again, pal?

[ Maurice, sir. ]

Maurice. [ Reno taps his temple. His smile is positively carnivorous. Predatory. A wild, hungry dog. ] I'll remember that.

_{[All it takes is one look. One brief glimpse of the twisted curl of Reno's lips and a flash of teeth, and just like that the feeling he's familiar with slams into his heart, seizes it, and bolts. Roche has to remind himself to breathe. In. One, two, three. Nice and composed, and exhale.

Maurice... Oh, Maurice. You really don't know what you've stepped into.]}

Lovely.

_{[It's directed towards sweet, dear Maurice, but Roche's eyes don't leave Reno's for a second. It's meant for him, but what he's talking about could be anything. It could be that vicious grin, or the look that screams Terrible Idea in those pretty turquoise eyes.

There's tension in the air, and bless his stars it doesn't take long for Mr. Maurice to figure it out and back off. He'll be back of course, but not for awhile at least. Best to give these two wild animals a little space, and wish that poor waiter luck.

They've got time. Plenty of time for Roche to snatch the Dalmore, twist the cap, and fills one of the old fashions that had come with the bottle. It's tempting to steal the first hit for himself, but nah. Roche slides that baby across the tablecloth, right to Reno.]}

I think I know that look.

What look, sweetheart?

[ Is he gonna murder poor Maurice? No. Oh, heavens, no. As was declared to him quite recently (shockingly recently, when you think about it—the Turks Revolution was only a matter of mere months ago, isn't that just the goddamnedest thing? Right before the whole world turned over and people stopped staying dead), it's a new era for Shinra. It's a new era for the Department of Administrative Research, too. He has yet to make this great shift in hierarchy anyone's knowledge but his own yet, but he has plans for his actions going forward. No. His last execution will be Chirpy. Maurice...

Maurice just won't be sleeping for awhile, that's all.

But Roche doesn't need to know that. Reno bats his long, dark lashes and smiles from ear to ear like a wicked little crocodile, takes the offered glass, and knocks it back, pinky out(, bitch). ]

Ahhh, yeah. That's the stuff that's worth your money. Last time I had this was at the Saucer. Me 'n Rude were on what they called a "corporate retreat" that was s'posed to be work but wound up being aaaaall play. Hehehe. He was so smashed. Tried to punch a ghost at the hotel and wound up flat on his face. It ended alright, though. I put him in for a nice long bubblebath and got cozy with the chick that runs the racin' stables... she introduced me to the guys. [ "introduced" = "it was a chocojockey gang bang" ] Next morning we got up still drunk as hell and lucked into a cool mil on the slots. It was just enough to pay for all the bottles of this we racked up on the tab. Y'see, this shit makes dreams come true.

[ a million gil worth of whiskey ]

_{[Oh.

Oh no. He's thinking about that, now. He's thinking about Rude, absolutely gone to the world swinging at air... Should he feel bad for laughing? He kind of does, but that's not enough to stop Roche's snickering. Even if it wasn't Rude, it's still funny. Funny, and... man, actually kind of endearing? So many people forget that the Turks are more than just a suit. They're human. Even with all the terrible things he's heard of the Turks doing, the ones he's met were more human than some SOLDIERs he's known in the past.]}

I'm almost afraid to ask how much it took to get that wasted. He and I are around the same size, but I've got those nice little perks they don't tell you about in SOLDIER to keep me going.

_{[Past!Roche's liver would hate him.]}

If it makes your dreams come true... _{[Roche looks from Reno, to the bottle, and back to Reno as he picks it up and offers it out. Refill?]} What were yours? And what are they now? I might be able to nudge the wheel in the right direction.

[ Refill, yes. Reno reaches out with the empty glass to have it filled again, only this time he doesn't immediately knock the shot back. He swishes it around and thinks for a minute, instead. ]

Back then? I didn't have time for dreams. Just took things one day at a time, y'know? Be lucky if the next day was as much of an adventure as the last. Now, though...

[ He'd rather not think about it. His dreams, his future, what there is left for him in this life, when this life seems like it might not ever end anymore... nothing's been more uncertain before. Everything's been stripped apart and turned upside down. Even just a few weeks ago, when he told Rude under absolute truthfulness that the only perfect world he could picture was still being a Turk, being together with his people. That's... that's over now. It's changed. He just isn't sure how it's changed, just that it has. He wants his people—that's all he knows he still wants. Just to be with the people he cares about, however that has to be. A couple seconds to mull it over, then he tosses back that shot, too. ]

You're already on the right track. I just want to spend my time with people who like me. You liiiike me, right?

[ Batting his lashes again as he sets that glass down. Making a silly joke of it, tee-hee, play-flirting, what a pair. Hopefully none of the sincerity shows. ]

_{[Not the dreaded eyelash batting! His one weakness! He's even hamming it up, chin resting on top of his hand as he leans across the table and just sort of... looks at Reno. Admiring him, really. It's all part of the fun, right?]}

Maybe I liiiike-you like-you.

_{[The near-feral grin melts away as he laughs, and for a split second Roche looks a little... wistful? Like when he had no choice but to watch Cloud peel away into the night on the Motonox. Or... Ah, fuck. There's that Other Feeling again. Maybe it is heartburn. Or maybe it's that thing Sephiroth had said about his body starting to break down, and ha ha wouldn't that be hilarious if he started dying tonight?

Goddamn, man. Tonight is not the night to start trying to process all of that (or ever.)]}

But in all seriousness, have I ever given you a reason to think otherwise? Every time I talk to you, I don't know what to expect and it's... honestly something I look forward to. I've been riding solo for so long I nearly forgot what it felt like to be around people who can keep me on my toes.

_{[He feels it with all of the Turks. Each one has their own unique way of doing it, and that's partially what drives Roche to keep coming back. They fed the stray, and now they're stuck with him following at their heels, eagerly awaiting scraps.]}

No, you haven't.

[ Given him a reason not to think so, that is, and that was kind of the joke, but... listen, he knows Roche likes him, that part is obvious, but... he was talking about, like... er... y'know. Ugh, come on, okay, it's not like he's going to ask Roche to circle "do you like me? yes/no" and ask him to come up with baby names or whatever, eugh, geez. He just meant, like... like... oh. Oh, nope. Don't want to go there.

Except maybe he does kind of want to go there? Reno swallows, subtly and quietly, passes it off by flirting with the champagne still left in his flute, should he down this too? Or leave it? Don't want to get trashed too fast. Or maybe he does, if this is the type of shit he's thinking about. This is all funny ha-ha, but if it's only as deep as the surface-level, does it really, truly matter? By all rights, the answer is no. It'd be no different than any other time anyone "took him out." As a consort at best, or as a joke, or just for fun. Or for work, even. Thing is, he wouldn't have felt the way he felt if he didn't know differently, and that's... that's the part that makes his palms sweat and his heart race. He's never felt so nervous about it before.

But he's never gotten attached to an outsider before, really, either. He's only ever had his Turk family.

Fuck it. Knocking back the champagne, too. Whew, his dry spell is going away with a bang. He's going to be fucking stumbling drunk by the end of the night. ]

Heh. If you're saying I make your heart race, speed demon, then my dreams are for sure coming true.

[ Just keep it light. Play it off. ]

_{[He makes it race, alright. Clearly he makes it do something else too, but Roche doesn't fully realize that yet. For all he knows there's something wrong with him (there is, but that's beyond the point). At first it had only been the adrenaline, but now? God, there's something else going on that makes him feel content when he's at rest. Never in a hundred years did Roche think he'd ever find himself in this position, and it's...

Actually a little scary. A good scary? He's not entirely sure yet.]}

Oh, you've done more than make it race, Hotshot. You've taken it for a ride and found out how to make it purr.

_{[Is that too corny? God, it probably is. You know what fixes that? Whiskey. It's a welcome distraction, but it doesn't quite drag Roche's mind away from it entirely. Who says something like that? He's said things like that to others before, but it had been in jest! That felt like the exact opposite, and maybe floating in that sea of green after that night in the car did break something in him.]}

Am, ah... _{[Alright. Knock back the first glass, and... No, he definitely needs a second one. Yeah. A second glass sounds just fine.]} I really part of your dreams?

_{[F u c k.]}

[ There's something... cute about Roche's expression. There's often something cute about Roche's face, those big wild eyes and that feral grin. He's so damn animated, even here in this stiflingly fancy place, all dressed up and dust-free. Roche purrs when he says purr, and it isn't lost on Reno how he knocks back a-one and a-two of the dreamgranter whiskey, the subtle hesitation in-between shots. He's seen nervousness creep into the mannerisms of all sorts of people, whether it's fear or reluctance or something else entirely, but somehow it's strange to see it here, now. And yet... not, because isn't he doing the same thing, himself? He's tossed back every drink he had access to and there aren't even any breadsticks to shove in his mouth and deflect with. God, what kind of fucking restaurant is this, anyway?

He just needs to not think too deeply on that metaphor. Taking someone's heart for a ride and making it purr is, uh... that's, uh... Reno puts his chin in his hand and laughs about it, nose crinkling, but he can't just cryptically giggle off the question, too, can he? Dammit, where's that waiter to take their doucheburger order so he can just sail past all this without having to confront that seasick feeling in the pit of his stomach? No such luck just yet. Guess they're giving them ample time to get trashed first. Well, cool, Reno pours himself more champagne. ]

Mm, well... let me put it this way...

[ How would he say it to Rude? Because he can always say things to Rude, right? Now, maybe, yeah. It took a lot of extremes for that to happen. Death, durance, truth serum, the works. Fuck, and sometimes they still aren't on the same page. But, uh... ]

When I picture my future, I want you to be in it.

_{[Maurice, man. This is totally payback from him, isn't it? He's probably looking for the greenest, most nervous waiter they have on hand as a sort of hazing ritual. Make the new guy suffer and deal with the rowdy table, because everyone else has their heads so far up their asses and have such higher standards. Whatever. They've got enough sense to take it somewhat easy on whichever poor kid they get, and maybe he'll even be lucky enough to get the name of someone who could turn that little diamond into cold hard cash.

God, especially if he saves them from whatever the hell is going on.

Roche doesn't know why that fuzzy, content feeling shifts to nausea, but his nerves don't give him any say in that. He can count the number of times he's felt like this on one hand, and one those moments is happening right now. Bad alcohol? Nah, this was the primo shit. Maybe he's not dying or dealing with heartburn. Maybe he's just coming down with something. Yeah, that seems logical.]}

You... do?

_{[Maurice, please send the guy-- Roche is stepping into uncharted territory here, yet despite how much he wants to laugh it off and be the same little shit he always has been, he keeps his attention solely on Reno.

Ah, hell. He's going to try it anyway.]}

You're probably going to need all the help you can get if you're going to try and keep me in neutral, Hotshot. Sure you're up for that?

[ What precisely is "his future"? That, Reno cannot answer. He couldn't answer it when Rude asked; he couldn't truly promise it when Rufus did; he can't explain it now. He doesn't know where he sees himself in ten years or five years or even the two years that have supposedly already been accounted for. All he knows is the one simple matter of wanting who he wants and not wanting to be without them. There are a good handful of people to be counted among those he doesn't want to be without and... it just so happens that Roche is one of them now.

Could he live without him? Oh, sure. Absolutely. But he could live without anyone, he thinks. He's going to learn to live without Tseng. He could probably be forced to survive without Rude. That's not the issue, though. There's a remarkable lot he thinks he could live without, but that has nothing to do with what he wants. As a Turk, he's never really had the luxury of wanting anything. He can't have what other normal people have. A love life is off limits. A family is off limits. Hell, even friends, really, are off limits. He found ways to make it work with Zack, and... well, look what happened! (The part where Shinra gunned him down, not the part where they had a tragic falling out.) Roche could be an outlier like that, too, maybe. But then again—

Fuck. Look, he doesn't want to think that hard about it! He just wants what he wants, god dammit, and what he wants is this dumb fucker right here. ]

Psh, I'd never dream of forcing you to burn your fuel like that, tiger. You can put the pedal to the metal as much as you want. I'm just hoping that when you do—ah, oh hey.

[ ...you'll take me with you, he would have said, but here's the waiter! Oh joy! This is in fact a different person than dear old Maurice, and boy does he look overly smiley. Young, anxious, clearly hoping to make up for any grievances and his own failures by being as friendly as humanly possible. My apologies for the delay, sirs, he says, his voice high and reedy. It would be my pleasure to take your order. ]

_{[It's the kid's arrival that keeps Roche from reaching across the table for Reno's hand, and he both curses and thanks the powers that be for it. That'd have been weird, right? Especially if he just... blurted out something even stupider. Yeah, this kid? He's a winner tonight. The big, million-gil winner. A regular gillionaire. At any rate, it gives Roche a chance to slam the brakes on whatever is going on in his head before it gets away from him.]}

Ah... Don't worry about it. I'd be completely lost in your shoes, kid.

_{[He says kid like he's so much younger. It's the bright eyes that remind Roche of one. Bright and hopeful for the future, and he finds himself hoping that this place doesn't destroy that look. You hate to see high society do that to a person.]}

We're happy to have you, mister...?

_{[A-Alfons, sir.]}

Alfons. I like that. You'll have to forgive us. We've heard lovely things about this place, but some of the names here are a bit new to us.

_{[Best to be honest and upfront about it all, because Roche knows he's tripping up on how to pronounce some of the words listed as he rattles off his own order, and then tilts his head towards Reno. Do you want the honors? remains unspoken, but there's no hiding the shit-eating smile on his face.]}

...And whatever my dear companion would like.

[ Poor, dear, sweet Alfons. They clearly selected the greenest and most helpless of the bunch to send to the wolves' den, thinking they'd haze the newbie or else give them less than the gold standard of service. Maurice thinks he's pretty fucking clever, does he? Yeah, well, if sweet little Alfons plays his cards right tonight, he could wind up with a diamond in his pocket, a fat stack of cold, hard cash, the favor of two of the most powerful men in the world (each in their own ways, as it were), and also maybe even get invited for a threesome (to be cashed in at a later time, maybe—tonight is just for them unless they decide to get real freaky). It all depends on you, kiddo.

Reno's wicked little grin softens at the kid's nervousness and politeness, but when it's his turn to order, the teeth are showing again as he glances across the table. He contains his laughter and says, extending one finger to tap the menu, in as debonair a voice as he is capable of using: ]

Yeah, I'll get the Douche Burger. With the foe-y grass and gruh-yur cheese, all that. Yep. Oh, and extra gold leaf. I like my douche as gilded as possible.

[ Alfons is having a fucking crisis. Alfons furiously writes that order down, his face beet red. Y-Yes, sir. And for your side, we offer— ]

Fries. [ whoops. ] Please'n'thank you.

[ O-Oh. Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Will there be anything else? ]

Yeah... do me a favor. After you drop off our order, step out back and have a laugh where no one can hear you. You probably get sick of holding that in all day, huh?

[ There's a pause. And then, quietly, It is a struggle, sir. ]

I'll bet.

Make it extra fries. As many as they can load onto one of these plates.

_{[That's the thing about places like this. They never give you enough when it comes to them, and isn't that the worst crime of all? It's always a gigantic slice of pickle and hardly any fries. This is The Test.

I-I'll do my best, sir. And really, that's all anyone has to say. They just have to say, and try. I'll be back with your orders as soon as I can.]}

...What do you think?

_{[Roche, now that he's regained most of his composure, looks back up to Reno. Well. Most of it, because an awful snort still manages to slip out, but he doesn't even try to hide it. Nope, that fake, haughty mask he had around Maurice is g o n e. Adios.]}

I think he looked like he was about to lose it about the gilded douche.

[ Bless his soul. Reno has another short fit of giggles when Roche snorts, and that just made the whole night worth it, didn't it? If nothing else, he ordered an extra gilded douche burger at the nicest restaurant in all of Midgar and no one can do shit about it. He pours himself another glass of whiskey and has a solid sip of it as if to celebrate his success. ]

Yeah, I like him. Unless he does something real fuckin' heinous like spill the food all over us or something, I'd say he's the one. Don't you wanna make his night one to remember, too, you gentleman, you?

[ I mean, really, Roche has done way better at pretending to sound high class, at least. Then again, he's got that flowery, imaginative vocabulary. Reno just says whatever the fuck he feels like whenever the fuck he feels like it. ]

Then that'll be two no-good suckers you've swept off their feet in short order. A real force to be reckoned with.

If anyone is doing any feet sweeping, it's you.

_{[Reno certainly swept Roche off his, and that was the night Reno was all over the place. And how many times has he done that since?? He's honestly lost count at this point, and a lot of that was in part due to the little tiny things shared around the building. Nods across floors, loitering outside, things like that.

It does things to his awful, outcast heart.]}

Next thing we know you'll be coming back in from a job and I'll be waiting on your desk like one of those pin-up girls from the calendars. Think I could convince Gloria to let me in while you're not around?

_{[He's joking. Unless...?]}

Hahaha, oh shit. I'd love that. You'd be more likely to—

[ oh... well... wait a minute now. He shares an office with Rude, and he doesn't intend to leave that desk, but if he's going to be running the joint, that means the Director's office is all his. And its faculties, too, the ones you need sign-off from the bossman to use. Reno's eyebrows raise as he lifts his glass to his mouth, stopping to think before he sips. Honestly, he could have used any of these resources either way, but the fact remains that Roche is categorically less likely to run into Rude instead, like he was going to say, now.

But there won't be any sharing that tonight. Instead, he takes a sip and grins over the rim of his glass, pinning Roche with his searching stare. ]

You can't convince Gloria of shitthefuckall, but she knows the score. Honesty's the best policy with that one. And maybe if you butter her up with, eh... shit! What's that one she keeps around sometimes... begonias, I think. She also likes those shitty little cactus-sesses.

[ cacti, reno. "cacti." ]

_{[Begonias? Huh. He never would've pegged her for a Begonia Gal. If Reno thinks he's not filing that away, then he's in for it. Clearing his throat a bit, Roche sits up straight, plucks the champagne glass off the table, and extends it forward.]}

Good morning, Gloria. I was wondering if you could let me in so I could spread myself across a certain Turk's desk? I'm starting to feel like I'd be a better Honeybee than a SOLDIER, and I'd like his opinion on the matter.

_{[He's unable to keep a straight face for long, especially with Reno still looking at him like that. It all dissolves into a wheezing sort of giggle that Roche tries to cover up with his fist, but... It's already out there. God. At least they're seated far enough away that other tables can't hear, right? All they get is snippets and their reactions.

Animals, the both of them.]}

God... I'd even try bringing both, but...

_{[His eyes wander to the cactuar on Reno's wrist for a moment. Small, green spiky things seems like it's their thing, doesn't it?]}

[ Not cactuars, dummy, succulents! But yeah, Reno's gaze jumps to the dangling cactuar on his wrist, too, and he gets that kinda fuzzy feeling all over again. Yeah, cactus-sesses are their thing. Smirking, he gives his wrist a little shake so that the charm swings back and forth as he's taking another sip of his drink. It's meant to help him muffle his grin (and probably his laughter) when Roche laughs like that. Fuck, he's starting to get a little sloppy. This shit is gonna take him from pleasantly buzzed to drunk real quick. It kind of already is. Plus he's been dry for, what, several months? Yeah. It's already going to his head. His cheeks are getting a little ruddy. ]

Make sure you tell her which Turk, specifically. Oh, and you better come dressed for the part! I want fishnets, the little stinger bee ass thing, wings... the works. Evidently Rude's got a hookup with the proprietor for playing dressup. You should ask him to connect you. Aw, he'll make you pretty.

[ Can you imagine? yes. He can, and he is, and it's glorious. Oh, but wait— ]

Mm, you're already pretty, actually.

[ yeah, the dalmore's getting to him. ]

You just want an excuse to see me all dolled up like you were during the gala, don't you?

_{[Everything minus the weird bee ass could be hidden under his uniform, so it'd be missing part of it but... Huh. In all his years, Roche never actually considered doing that before. Who'd have thought that one Turk is all it takes to get him to actually think about it now?

Stranger things have happened.

Roche is going to have to mull it over some more, but hey! The idea is in his head now.]}

Though you ought to remind me which desk is actually yours. I get the feeling you'd get a kick out of it, but I don't know if your partner would appreciate me putting my ass all over the space he does his paperwork.

_{[Or... No, no, that's a silly idea. Even if the thought turns the tips of his ears the tiniest shades of pink. He knows this is the Good Primo Shit, but Roche barely feels the buzz in his fingertips. Is it time for a third glass? Perhaps, but he's not going to drink it right away. He just sort of... sloshes it around.]}

...I am serious about that, for what it's worth. Turning up on your desk and waiting for you to come back. I could even throw in a shoulder rub, though I don't have the talent Rude does.

[ Oh, no. The mental image of Roche getting all slutted up in a bee outfit and coming to lay out all pinup-like on his desk, only to wind up on Rude's instead, is pretty fucking funny. He's almost completely certain Rude would get a kick out of it, too, after the shock and disgruntlement over having his work messed up passed, anyway. He can picture it now, the look on his face— and on Roche's— and then he's giggling, that ruddiness in his face flushing even darker red. Give it long enough and who knows just what he could "stroll in" on.

Oh. That's pretty hot. Reno's grin widens, and he knows for a fact he isn't being subtle at all about the thoughts going through his head anymore, but between just Being Like That all the time and the alcohol, he doesn't give a damn. In fact, he'd like for Roche to know exactly what he's thinking. It kinda has a little extra spice to it, thinking such impure thoughts in such a high-class place. ]

Ohhhh, so you've met him and his famous shoulder rubs? Yeah, he's really good with his hands. Reaaally good. Say, we're really onto something here. It's been awhile since we had a bee in the office. The desk you want is the one on the left. We share an office, y'know, but I got ways around that. Top-secret, special ways.

[ The one on the left is, in fact, Rude's. ]

_{[Special ways, huh? Part of him wants to know now, but where would the fun be in that? Life was always that much more exciting with surprises waiting around the corner. Especially when said surprises concern his favorite people. Roche hasn't been disappointed by the Turks and their antics yet, and he doubts it'll happen anytime soon.]}

I seem to recall him saying I could do porn if I ever retired while he was working on my back. Being the office bee sounds like it'd be a step in the right direction.

_{[He still finds the thought hilarious for a number of reasons. Boy, that'd be sticking it to the old guard of Shinra, wouldn't it? It's a little fucked up, but it almost makes him want to do it even more now. Someone really ought to smack him with a newspaper. No, bad Roche. Bad.]}

Do I have to do the makeup, too? Or do you think I could get away with lip gloss and nail polish?

[ ohohoh. Rude said that? Reno's eyes light up like the starriest of skies. This is news to him! He knows Rude knows he knows Roche, at least, because he's mentioned it offhandedly a couple times, but isn't it kinda funny how he's utterly failed to mention any of his personal inclinations with anyone to him? Yeah, there's kind of a reason for that. And that reason is that Rude is very clingy, and needy, and would probably take it to heart. But, see, if he thinks Roche is porny...

This couldn't be any better if he tried. This is perfect, in fact. Reno's ruddy face is twisted with absolute glee and getting more flushed by the second. And yet he still goes to pour himself another glass anyway. ]

You'll wear whatever the good Mr. Rhodea puts you in, and it'll probably include makeup. Hey, uh...

[ he can't help himself. he just can't. ]

Did you two, y'know...

_{[The question catches him so off guard that he nearly spits. But that'd be a waste of a good dalmore, so he winds up choking on it as it goes down. Sure, it draws a bit of attention for a few moments but he's fine. 100%, totally fine. You'd think he'd expect something like that by now, but when it comes right for your throat like that?

Hey, universe? Mercy? No? Fine, he doesn't need no stinkin' mercy. Mercy is for c h u m p s.]}

N-No-- Ah... No, but I... don't think I'd have refused him if he asked. He only worked out knots I didn't know I had and turned me into putty right there on the beach. Brought me to a cabana, and I did my best to return the favor.

_{[If he's looking a little more flushed in the cheeks, it's only because of the little coughing fit.]}

Hand massage. That's, uh... All I knew how to do, and only because of that place in Wall Market.

That's it, really...? Heh!

[ My, Rude is so respectable. And that credit does in fact go to Rude and not to Roche, because he knows for a fact that Rude's decency has a way of rubbing off on sorts like him. Not enough to make him change his ways, but let's just put it this way: if his darling partner hadn't been the kind of man that he is, and had perhaps been just a little bit more willing to succumb to his influences, instead, they would have been fucking like rabbits ten years ago. Oh, god, the young'n'wild sex they've missed out on, it's fucking tragic. But hey, they're in their prime now, they've got time to make up for it.

At any rate, Reno hasn't looked or felt this delighted in a long time, and that's probably partially because the adrenaline of picturing Rude working out the kinks is getting that alcohol in his bloodstream rushing around much faster than it was before. He's not sure he remembers the last time he came down off such a dry spell, if there ever was one, so of course it's going to him hard. ]

Yeah, he's almost impossible to say no to, huh? Good to know. A little hint about him, though? He's not gonna ask. You gotta take hold'a those handlebars yourself. I can teach you how I did it...

[ Well, besides the dancing and the game of "try not to get off" that ended in crying and ass eating. The other thing. The actual thing. God, he's rapidly hitting wasted status. He must be if he's divulging any details about who else in this world he sleeps with that has a name anyone cares about knowing. Especially when that person is Rude, but whatever. He'll have that threesome if it kills him, and soon. So it's fine. ]

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