[ No, the first thing he does is pitch those stupid helmets off. He watched the sims and read the manuals, he knows all about the emergency catch on the back. They thunder to the ground and still no one comes running. He'd be livid about these operational failures if he cared about anything else but peeling this stupid uniform off of Reno right the fuck now. ]

I'm sure you are the first director to ever feel that way, Reno.

[ Yeah, they're fucking around with some banter, but the sardonic grin Tseng flashes has a little something extra to it. Not much, because all this space and isolation has done a wonderful job at restoring those steel doors of composure that Reno's been rusting away; they slam right back down, quick as anything. Gone as fast as he can pull Reno into a long, hard kiss, still right at the borderline of breathlessness from that image of Reno whipping around the sword he'd given him that's been burned in his mind. His fingers tear at zippers, undo buckles, just as deftly as if he's been dealing with them his whole life. (This is why you always read the manual.) He's grinning when he finally gets those—shoulder plates? Whatever they are, he sends them sailing loudly. )

If you are above sexual favors, though, you're going to have a hard time.