ruffians | → call me out

Here's to hoping. [ A dry chuckle. As much as he himself doesn't want to be here for any longer than he already has, the prospect of watching Reno slowly lose his pride and hope is oddly satisfying. It doesn't weigh out the bad, but it sweetens it a touch. ]

I wonder who else they've dragged into this godforsaken cesspit... or if this truly is another show of the scientists' sense of humor.

[This time, Reno's hesitation is a lot more noticeable. He realises it straight away; it's just a hair too long and too halting for him to play off as nothing. (It's just difficult not to think about the people he'd be glad to never deal with again - Nightmare, the remnants, Walter, Azula - and the people he misses - Bulma, Prince, Marlene, Jackie, Kakihara, the list goes on - and what a huge fucking mistake it is that there are people he misses in such a significant way in the first place. It's not--)

He shrugs. Nonchalant, disinterested. It's not that he expects Ocelot not to notice so much as he expects him to file it away as a weakness to exploit later. Or maybe to just needle him about it to entertain himself. Either way, if he can play it off as little more than a blip; just a pause while he remembered something and nothing else. Well, it gives him a leg to stand on when the inevitable dancing around how weak Discedo made him begins.]

Definitely some faces I wouldn't mind never seeing again.

[There's no accusation or pointedness in his tone or anything, it's just a casual statement of fact made almost distractedly as he stops to push a door and see if it's locked or what.]

[ He notices — of course he does, even though he makes a good enough show of pretending he hasn't seen a thing. His last tour of Discedo was heavy in premature nostalgia more than anything else, what with his sudden and intimate relationship with John that ended just as quickly as it had started and so one would think that there are no faces left for Ocelot to dread or look forward to. He made no friends and an appalling low number of enemies.

One would think so, wouldn't one.

Of course, this time he remembers it all. Not just the short few months he spent here last, but the ones that came before. Of using cigarettes as a trade-off to gain Reno's trust and, accidentally, companionship. Of watching him bleed out in the dirt, the numb, sticky, searing pain of a third-degree burn and Azula, oh he remembers Azula and where other people would dread seeing her Ocelot hopes that little bitch is around so he can put a bullet or three in her kneecaps.

He remembers and Reno doesn't know. Not yet. Maybe it should be kept that way but Ocelot was never that good with concealing the upper hand when he didn't need to. He pauses in his steps, head craned to one side as he surveys the crossing streets. ]

It was... two, three blocks from here, wasn't it?

[Ocelot is chock full of statements that catch Reno off guard today.

His hand stops just short of trying the doorhandle and withdraws, hesitant again. He sighs and turns back to look at Ocelot, trying to place what he's talking about. Discedo isn't a huge place, it could be a lot of things.

There aren't a lot of things between them, though.]

What was three blocks from here?

[ He draws it out, for theatrical effect, for suspense or simply because he does so enjoy being an insufferable asshole whenever he gets the chance to. When he speaks it's with measure and weight, as if he's rehearsed this all day. ]

Where you died.

[He's just about to give up on getting any kind of answer that's worth a damn when Ocelot actually speaks. If he's looking for a chink in the armour then he's certainly found it - not that he had to look hard, Reno supposes. If he remembers this, then Ocelot surely must remember how it rattled him to his core. Bleeding out in some fucking alley on some other world for no goddamn reason at all. Indestructible Reno of the Turks who could stand up to anything except a sword in his gut.

He doesn't want to be here. Reno isn't sure he's ever had a clearer thought in his mind. He doesn't want to be here, and moreover he doesn't want to be here with him. He cycles through a lot of emotions - largely negative - eventually coming to settle on anger. It's comfortable. Familiar. Like an old friend come to take him by the arm and guide him through an uncharted labyrinth. His voice is grave and harsh; not threatening by any measure, but there's lava bubbling in his veins all the same.]

So you remember.

Edited (casually fixes grammar don't mind me) 2014-04-06 21:50 (UTC)

[ Ah, there it is. Nothing like using a personal weakness to uncover an even bigger writhing pile of worms in your opponent — and although he never registered Reno as a threat, that's the label he's choosing to slap on him for the time being. Not ally, like he might have been once upon a time and certainly not an enemy. Just someone to fuck around with, antagonize for shits and giggles. ]

Of course I remember. [ A nonchalant shrug, as if he's oblivious to the simmering. ] Stabbed through the gut... bleeding out like a rat. It was really too pitiful.

Edited (god dw why can't you have an icon browser for everyone) 2014-04-08 11:19 (UTC)

[Reno's just... nodding, at first. Almost as if he's taking in what Ocelot's saying. Agreeing with it. Aside from the clenched jaw, he might even look like he doesn't care at all, but that's just the thin veneer of someone keeping their temper under wraps when faced with a spectacular confluence of events that makes them want to burn everything down.]

We're done here. [He backs up a step and turns on his heels to head off in an arbitrarily picked direction.] Real fucking nice seeing you again.

[ This is just too satisfying. Too sweet. ]

Leaving so soon? That's a disappointment.

[Reno stops in his tracks, frozen with indecision. Should he keep going? Walk away and get on with his day like this is nothing? Like he won't be stewing on this for days-- months to come?

No.

He turns back around and walks right up to Ocelot, close as he can get without being downright invasive. There's venom on his tongue but he swallows it. Swallows every insult and every memory that could possibly be ammunition in favour of being as clear and succinct as he can possibly be. There's a lot he wants to say, but there are entirely different things he should've said a long time ago.]

I'm not getting on this merry-go-round with you again. I am too old and too tired to entertain you while you worm your way under my skin and needle me like I'm some toy you can wind up and let go at your heart's desire.

[He gestures widely, at all of Discedo and its festering disrepair.]

Either make yourself useful, or fuck off. I've had enough.

[ For a moment there's genuine surprise even if he stands his ground, but the expressions turns just as quickly into one of smug satisfaction. A lack of sadism, this time around, like he's genuinely pleased at the turn of events and not because it's giving him a few more barbs to pull at. ]

About time you put your foot down. I was beginning to wonder if all the Turks were so easy to push around. [ And then, like this is nothing: ] Our first priority would be securing an HQ, don't you think?

[If Reno rolled his eyes any harder, he'd probably go blind. He sighs, but at least this is a nudge towards a tolerable working relationship to them. Assuming Ocelot can hold off on needling him long enough for Reno to forget how much he hates him.]

Best bet for a decent HQ is somewhere out of the way without much potential foot traffic in the area. [...] The office blocks on Liddell are probably best for seclusion, but somewhere like the Theatre's pretty out of the way, and better for space too.

[He inclines his head, gesturing somewhat in the direction he'd been headed before Ocelot got all button-mashy with his mood.]

Right now though, I'm more interested in finding essentials. Maybe a gun if there's any around and working. With the chip in I'm useless if it comes to it unless I get in close.

[ The Theatre. Where the Boss' crew set up shop. Yes, that would be a tactical advantage. ]

The Theatre it is. [ And what he's about to do next is something that should never be commented on, ever. Small sacrifices for potentially greater advantages. He reaches for one of the revolvers, unholstering it. ]

Don't waste bullets.

[Oh.

There's a brief hesitation on Reno's part - he wouldn't claim to have an in-depth knowledge of Ocelot's relationship with his guns, but he figures it's like his EMR. Something a part of him.

Ultimately though, he appreciates the pragmatism and takes the gun without comment. Checks the weight of it and the sight - he'd like to practice to make sure the sight lines up how he'd guess, but he'll just have to trust that it fires straight.]

Don't worry, I remember. [He checks the barrel and puts the gun away with what could almost be read as a smile.] Revolver rounds are in short supply.

[ An intimate part of him, something else that really shouldn't be commented on too deeply. There sure is something special about slamming silver bullets into a well greased chamber... ]

Don't remind me. [ Huff. ] I'd rather not need to save you off a roof again, so hold on to that. And get that damn chip out as soon as possible.

[Reno starts off in the direction of the theatre, seeing as they're agreed on a course of action for the time being.]

Believe me, that thing's coming out as soon as I find out where it is if I have to do it myself.

[As if it hasn't have been on his mind constantly since he arrived. He hated it enough based alone on the loss of his materia, but he knows pretty damn well the effect that thing can have. He's seen two chip malfunctions in his time - seen the way it changes people. Messes with their head and their feelings, removes their control over who they are. No way is he allowing the Scientists or whoever to have that power over him if he can help it.]

Oh, I'm sure you can find someone willing to slice you open.

[ Lightly, but it is a concern. He may not be relying on any supernatural powers to do the voodoo that he does so well, but that doesn't mean chip malfunctions won't affect him in the most uncomfortable ways. He can't afford not to be at full capacity here.

Even more so... if Reno regains his powers, maybe they'll even have a chance to stay alive. ]

No one I'd trust near me with a knife.

[Nonchalant as he nods in the direction of the theatre and starts to move in that direction. Intellectually he knows it's in Ocelot's best interest not to put a knife in his eye, just like the reverse is true. And it's not that he's trying to make a point of how little he trusts Ocelot, it's just a statement of fact. There's better things to attend to. Like not dying.]

If that's your criteria, something tells me you'll be waiting for a long time. [ And a knife in the eye won't do too much damage to a soldier worth his salt. Just look at John. He's doing fine! ]

[Hey now, Reno's no soldier. Plus, losing an eye is both painful and inconvenient and he's really not a fan of either of those things.]

Good thing I'm a fan of DIY.

Do tell me in advance when you've decided on a time for this DIY surgery. I'd like to get some popcorn ready.

Don't you worry, I'd hate to deprive you of such quality entertainment.

Good. I doubt we're going to get much else to entertain us...

Did you forget? Discedo's rife with entertainment.

[He sighs, reaching into his inside pocket for a cigarette. He's doing relatively well so far, hasn't had a smoke since he arrived, but this moment of... Somewhat calm, now he's not amped up on adrenaline. He is suddenly incredibly aware of just how much he could do with one right about now.]

Monster attacks, falling satellites. Dead scientists. [Scoff.] Hours of fun.

If that's what you consider fun, we're in more dire straits than I imagined. [ If he had a secure supply of ammo, it wouldn't be so bad. It's something to do, at least. ]

Still smoking, I see.

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makes stuff up

it's so beautiful

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