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Dorm Lobby, Sunday Evening

In the lobby is a big-ass banner that reads "WELCOME HOME TIME TRAVELLERS AND AWAY TEAMS AND WORLD SAVERS AND EVERYONE". And... that's more or less it.

On a table in the corner is punch and pie. JUST punch and pie, and the punch comes pre-spiked. There's also a box with a sign on it that says "NO PIE unless you deposit souvenirs here". Feel free to ignore it.

Sokka, after the TREMENDOUS effort involved in planning a shindig such as this, is sitting on the couch and rubbing his eyes, which are still dry and burning from earlier.

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Reno blinked at the big guy. And then at the drink in his hand.

"Uh, no. It's punch, yo." He sniffed at the glass experimentally. And, perhaps, slightly drunkenly. "Last I checked. Pretty sure it still is."

"No, not the punch," Chad said. He knew the punch was punch, despite the fact that it was really probably mostly alcohol. His finger pointed between the bowl and the person. "You. Where'd all your tattoos go?"

He always had a sneaking suspicion that maybe they were fake.

"Wha? These ones?" Reno pointed at the red marks on his cheekbones. "They ain't goin' anywhere. And I'm not provin' that the other one is still where I got it, yo."

He wasn't. The big dude probably didn't want to see the drunk chocobo that was tattooed to his butt.

"No," Chad said, frowning slightly as he shook his head. "The other ones. The...black ones." He made a futile gesture around his forehead, down each side of his face, with a finger, and then frowned a little more, leaning slightly in for a better look.

It seemed a long shot, but maybe this wasn't Renji after all. He did seem punier than he remembered, but it had been a while. However, there was probably one easy, quick way to solve this conundrum of confusion.

Still leaning forward critically, Chad proposed a question. "What are your thoughts on Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Fail proof test.

Reno stared at the guy for a moment.

A moment more. Just to be sure he wasn't going to make any sudden moves, or something. Not that he figured he would. His partner was a large, somewhat quiet guy, himself. And Rude only made sudden moves when he wanted to throttle Reno for something or other.

"Sakiwhat? ... Sake, right? That's booze." He tilted his head, considering the question with all the finesse and pizazz of a Turk who has had too much punch. "S'good stuff, yo."

...Okay. Not Renji.

Well, maybe Renji, but Chad was starting to have his doubts, which lead to Chad straightening again with his curiousity satiated with a grunt and a nod. "S'not bad," Chad decided conversationally. "M'more of a beer guy, myself."

"Beer ain't half bad, either," Reno replied, sticking out his tongue and grinning. "Depends on the beer. Most of this American stuff tastes like watered-down tonberry-piss."

He downed the rest of what was in his cup and nodded at the tall guy.

"Name's Reno, yo."

"That's a good way to put it," Chad said, nodding slightly, even if he didn't know what a tonberry was. He didn't suppose that part was important. The watered-down and piss parts were right on target, anyway, so he figured he could agree well enough.

He nodded back and, as if inspired by Reno's chugging, went to help himself to a cup finally. "Yasutora," he offered back. "Well, or Chad." He shrugged. "Good to meet you, Reno. Sorry 'bout the whole...Renji thing." Cup cradled between a few big fingers, he made another gesture in the general vicinity of his hair for more explaination.

Reno could live with being inspirational, really. Inspiring more drinking was always better than being lectured for drinking, after all.

"It's all good," he said, waving his hand and pondering the positives and negatives of getting another glass. There weren't any negatives that sprung immediately to mind, really, so more punch was attained. Victory music was played in his head. Life was good, and all that. "Got more people assumin' I dye my hair than I got people mistakin' me for someone else over it."

"Now that I notice it more," Chad commented, lifting the cup to take a drink and then pulling it back with a slight flaring of his nostrils as he definitely picked up something that he hadn't expected. He must not have deemed it anything too suspect, though, since, a second later, he went ahead and took a big drink, "he wears his different, and probably more red, but, y'know." He shrugged.

Apparently, whatever it was he'd noticed in the punch didn't taste too bad, either, considering that he kept drinking and then went and filled another cup.

"Okay, sometime, I gotta meet this guy who's got hair redder than mine," Reno laughed, raising his glass and taking another swig. "Just to prove that such a guy exists, yoto."

Chad raised his glass, too, but it was mostly a confused gesture than anything else, the sort of well, if he is, I should sort. "He does, man," Chad assured him. "But if you do meet him, he'll probably pick a fight with you, just a warning."

"Eh, I can hold my own in a fight," Reno said, waving the hand that wasn't occupied with booze dismissively. "Get in enough of 'em. Keep comin' out alive. Not too worried there, Chad, man. It's what I do."

"What? Fight people?"

Chad sipped his punch and gave a idle, rueful glance toward the pie. It looked really good, that pie, but he had no souvenirs to offer, so it looked like he was sticking with the booze punch.

"Little of that, little fightin' whatever monster-crap pops up around town. Uh. Before town went, you know." He mimed, perhaps unsuccessfully, a scene of mass destruction with one hand. "Fight."

He followed that rueful glance toward the pie and tilted his head, considering.

"Know what makes a good souvenir?"

Chad considered the question. Probably longer than anyone else probably would have.

"Those little doll thingies where you open them up and there's smaller dolls inside?" he guessed.

Those things could keep him entertained for hours if the mood struck him.

Reno deadpanned for a moment at the answer.

"Well, I guess so? But if you're lookin' for somethin' quick and simple to trade for pie, nothin' says 'victory souvenir' like an empty punch cup. Full of spit an' victory. And you can just grab another cup if you want more punch, yo."

Trust him. He just knew these things. And would demonstrate by dumping his cup into the box before sauntering back with a slice of pie.

"I didn't do anything to help though," Chad said, disheartedly, before at least emptying his cup, to prove his openness to being persuaded. "So it lacks the victory..."

"What Sokka don't know won't hurt him," Reno reasoned. "Like he knows the cup's from you, right? Just, hey look! Victory punch cup. Freakin' score, yo!"

Reno logic was, by and large, perhaps not the most upstanding sort of logic in the world.

"Plus, this is damn good pie."

Chad...could really not refuse damn good pie. He gave his cup a toss into the box, and replaced it with some pie, while getting more punch in a new cup with his other hand.

"Besides, the more cups we use, the more we'll have to buy again, and we can support local business. Or something."

"See, now you're thinkin'!" Reno tapped the side of his head. This may or may not have resulted in getting pie in his hair. He wasn't terribly concerned. "Spoutin' off all that entrepreneurial-local-revenues stuff like you're a pro at it, man. See, for that, you're gonna have to get more pie. You know, to support T&C, or wherever, zoto."

"I think I can do that," Chad nodded, politely ignoring the fact that the pie was most likely from J,GoB, but, hey, if this lead to somehow getting back to Turtle that he was gung-ho about supporting her business, maybe she'd stop hating him so much.

"...This is pretty damn good pie."

Maybe the disposable cups were from T&C. Reno didn't know, and really, he didn't care very much whose businesses he was patronizing. But the pie was good. And the punch was good, and together, the pie and punch were supporting local business in very delicious ways.

"Real damn good pie," Reno agreed. "Could probably handle a few more. Looks like we got enough disposable-cup-souvenirs to keep us eatin' pie for a while."

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Dorm Lobby, Sunday Evening

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