fandomhighdorms | Behind the Dorms, Tuesday Afternoon

"Good afternoon, reservists," Arthur said, his voice loud enough to sound across the field. "Today, we've got a bit of a surprise for you. As some of you might still recall, Reno used to be one of the leaders of this reserve. He has chosen to stay with us after the weekend to see you through a meeting once again. For those of you who haven't met him, I suggest you open your ears and listen. Reno?"

"Yo!" Look, it was not a greeting from Reno unless there was an exuberant 'yo' involved, here. "I see none of you chumps managed to kill one another or get your asses completely kicked or anything equally stupid in my absence, so good on you." He shot Arthur a crooked grin before turning his attention back to the group, his stun baton resting lightly on his shoulder, one hand in his pocket. "I'm thinkin' you guys've probably been through all kinds of fun and excitin' shit involvin' weapons you ain't familiar with, but I hear you ain't got to play with my personal favorite yet, the baton. Nightsticks, for lack of a better word, 'cause I ain't stupid enough to hand you rookies a bunch'a live friggin' electrical weapons like mine, here."

See, Reno totally practised forethought, occasionally.

It was very impressive. Sort of. "We covered staffs last week," Arthur added, "But obviously, the baton works on a shorter range. I'm sure you'll be able to show us how to work it, though, Reno." Yeah. Forethought. Letting Reno lead the reserves.

"There's plenty you gotta remember when playin' with your rod," Reno mused, a deliberate little smirk toying over his lips. "First, like Arthur said, it's short-range. You're goin' up against someone with better reach, like staffs or swords, then you're gonna have to be faster, or damn good at takin' hits, yo." He gave the baton a swing, then, moving forward with a speed... that wasn't quite human. He hadn't done this around here in a while. He felt like showing off. "There's your drawback, slowpokes. The upside is, this puppy's a one-handed weapon, which frees up your other hand for anything you might need it for, from grabbin' your opponent by the throat to flippin' them the bird if they're pissin' you off." Shut up. That was totally important. "Bein' for closer range, you might wanna rely more on other things at your disposal, too. What your baton can't reach, your feet sure as hell should, yo. So while they're watchin' the stick in your hand, bust their jaw with a good kick. You ain't workin' with a bladed weapon, here. Speed's your best friend, because the faster you swing, the harder the hit. Blunt-force trauma, kiddies. It does wonders, zoto."

Reno was a terrible influence.

A terrible influence who had brought enough ~~lead pipes~~ batons for everybody here to play with. Please, don't kill one another.

[Open!]

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Reno bit back a twitch in his cheek that would have involved a frown. His expression, then, went weirdly flat.

"Edge is... Edge." He shrugged. "People are hungry. That much ain't changed. They're startin' to put up roads again, an' there's a vehicle that the WRO's got in the works that might make bringin' food in a little easier, but fuel ain't gonna be easy to find for it, either. I can't feed everyone in the damn city, man."

Though, judging by the bit of weight he'd lost since he'd graduated, it looked something as though he'd been putting forth his best effort.

Arthur pursed his lips, and regarded Reno. "Haven't gotten your horses yet," he said, somewhat apologetically, "But I'm sure we can load you up with enough food to carry some people for at least a couple of days." Oh sure, go be the bleeding heart.

Awww, Arthur totally cared for the little guy!

"Food's good," he agreed. "All I can carry an' then some. I was plannin' on stockin' up before I went back to Edge, actually. Figure Turtle could use the business."

Or whoever ran the T&C nowadays. Reno was a smidgen behind the times, here.

"No rush on the horses, zoto. We gotta work on figurin' out where we'd put 'em in the first place, right?" They couldn't exactly keep them hitched to the monument in the middle of town, or anything.

"Turtle's not here anymore," he said, distractedly. Not that Arthur would've noticed, had it not been for the fact she had promised him a present she'd never brought. "You just need a stables. Some hay. Some grass to feed them." A pause. "Maybe some cows won't hurt, either. I hope you've brought a cart for the food."

"Uhh. Cart?" A pause. "Hay. Right."

Reno and livestock did not good friends make.

"I brought the chopper, yo. Told the boss I was goin' to fly out, an' then come back with supplies. Tseng's a dick, but he ain't gonna turn down me doin' a run for food an' fuel if I can get some, just so long as I load up on the shit he needs, too. Like... staplers. I dunno."

Tseng did a lot of paperwork. Reno figured that staplers would come in handy somewhere, right?

Oh, Reno. Reno, don't say these things. Reno.

"You brought the chopper?"

"Of course. What, you think I rode in on chickenback?" Reno allowed himself a moment to look thoroughly smug, yes, why? "Parked it on the other side of the causeway, where there's room to park that kinda shit. Why? You hopin' for a ride?"

"I merely want to see it."

He was totally hoping for a ride.

... and for Reno's opinion on Chocobo hunting. "Speaking of chickens..."

"Eh, I can show you the chopper anytime," Reno replied, shrugging his shoulders and grinning. "When's good for you? If this week don't work, I can always tell Tseng I'm makin' another supply run."

A beat.

"What about chickens, anyhow?"

Edited 2009-12-09 20:56 (UTC)

"Next time you visit," he decided ~~because we were well into Wednesday by now~~. "Ah, yes. Zack's told me more about your chocobo's, and I was wondering - do you know if anyone's ever tried to hunt them before?"

Reno's eyes rolled up toward the heavens at the memory of trying to chase down the Gold Saucer's prize chocobo. And at the memory of Hyperion burying his massive black-chocobo foot in Reno's face.

"Only idiots," Reno replied, grimacing. "Why? You wake up one mornin' an' think to yourself that it'd be a good time, or somethin'?"

Behind the Dorms, Tuesday Afternoon

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