"My mother did the best she could, considerin' the situation," I say sitting back and sparking my cigarette to life. I take a long drag in the silence.
"May I?" he asks. It is the first thing he's said in a while, and the dark bass voice sends a shiver up my spine.
"I didn't realize you smoked," I say, handing it to him.
"Don't all Turks?"
"You're not a Turk."
"Not anymore," he replies, "but then again, neither are you."
"Touché."
His pale lips purse against the end of the stick; he takes a quick puff, then a longer one before passing it back.
"And your father?"
"You're good at this; you must have been a hell of an interrogator back in the day. You've put me at ease and established a report all in a few simple gestures."
"I'm sure you've read my files. I was a case-study, after all."
"Every Turk has seen the pictures. You're a warnin' to us all."
The corner of his mouth quirks.
"And you're good with deflection."
"Have you read up on me?" I ask, sitting forward and tapping the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray.
"We wouldn't be here if I had. All your records were destroyed along with the Shin-Ra building.
"We're here because your buddy wants to know why his girl hates me," I counter. "But I'm not sure any records about me existed in the first place. Shin-Ra had a change in policy in Human Resources after Sephiroth went rogue."
"We'll come around to the subject at hand eventually."
"Look," I say, stubbing out the remnants. "It's convoluted, and I'm not sure he matters to the story."
"You don't think I'll understand?" he gestures at himself and even shrouded in darkness, I can see a glint of gold metal. I laugh outright and in response he smiles. I'll concede the first point of the game to him. "Let me be the one to decide what's relevant."
"Alright, I'll back up, and I promise we'll get to him."
"Go on," he gestures with his right hand.
I am so used to seeing it gloved in leather, that I am caught off guard by the elegant appendage, and I must clear my throat in order to speak again
"My mother only had a fourth grade slum education. She went to work early at the Honey Bee, first as a peep show girl when she was thirteen, then as a stripper in the main room when she was fifteen. She fell in love, took a guy's word and money, and gave up her last bit of virtue. She had my older sister at seventeen."
"And was he your father as well?"
"Hell no, that asshole split after a few months, leavin' her a busted up girl no longer fit for the Honey Bee stage. She did the only thing she could to feed her baby and herself: rent out. One of those men – a figurative army of them – was our father."
"With red hair like yours…"
"Same color as my mother's," I sigh. "Who do you look like? Your mother or father?"
He contemplates the questions, his eyes boring into mine.
"Her when I was young, him when I grew into an adult."
Either way, he is beautiful, but that's not something I'm stupid enough to say aloud. He reminds me a little of Tseng.
"Once we were born, she had that sterilization procedure."
"Tubal ligation?"
"Sure, whatever it's called, but at least she finally figured out birth control. Did you know I had a twin sister before today?"
"It was never a concern of mine."
"Ha! As you can see, we're nothin' alike, but it doesn't take a Turk to figure that out."
"How about a drink?" He asks, motioning to the bar.
"Sure, I'll have a Shiva's Ice." He is so tall that in two strides, he's at the bar and reaching over the side for two blue bottles of beer. He twists the caps off, discards them, and is back to the table, placing one ice cold bottle in front of me.
"Thank you," I say. "So there we were, my mother and her three brats. She really did the best she could. We went to the Honey Bee Daycare, along with all the other stripper and prostitute's children. My older sister, Karina, was smart enough to go to the Sector's slum school. I had trouble learnin' to read, so they slapped a stupid sticker on me and sent me to work runnin' drugs when I was old enough, but my twin… she was a genius from the moment she first opened her eyes, or at least that's what mom told us. She went to the slum school as well. She excelled in all that book learning."
"How did you learn to read? From her? From the streets?"
"I learned because it helped me to survive, readin' seemed a luxury back then. I still don't read for fun, yo – a menu, a list of targets, an invoice – sure, but I get by as long as it isn't too fancy."
"That's a shame. Nanaki –"
"Can you see me sittin' around with a bunch of kids readin' The Little Chocobo That Could."
He shrugs. "It's not a bad story."
"When I was about twelve the recession hit. You were hibernating then, I think, but milk was six Gil a liter, a bag of rice was eight, and suddenly my mom couldn't feed the four of us on the little she was making. She might have been twenty-nine, but she already looked like an old woman. Our landlord, also her pimp, let himself in one night when we were eatin' a meal I'd pulled out of the dumpster, and he pointed at Karina and said, 'It's your turn, sweetheart.'"
He makes a soft sound at the back of his throat, as if choking on his swig of beer.
"She was pregnant less than a year later, thanks to our third-rate sex education and a total lack of condoms."
"A vicious cycle repeated in your family." There is a ghost of pain in his eyes, reflected back at me like an infinity pool.
"I still remember our last conversation." I peel the label off the empty bottle. "She had just found out that she was carryin' a boy and I made some flippant comment about being glad I wasn't gonna be outnumbered so badly anymore. She turned, glaring at me and asked, 'What will my son be? Will he run drugs like you or spread his legs like me?' She went into the bedroom, I went to work."
I get up and throw the bottle in the garbage can, stealing another one from behind the bar. When I can't find an opener, I hand it to him, he pops it, and gives it back.
"When I came home that night, I went into the bedroom to shower the day away and found her on our bed, her brains blown out on the comforter."
"Your mother and twin?"
"Thankfully, out. I called the authorities and had the worst of it cleaned up by the time they got back. The landlord came up that night and assessed the damage. He wrote up a bill and looked at my twin and said, 'You're up sweetheart.' You have any siblings?"
"None. I was close to my cousins when I was young, but circumstances have broken that connection."
"You should try findin' your family."
"Perhaps someday, but I think you're at the crux of the story, are you not?"
"You don't miss a thing, do you?"
"I was trained as a sniper."
"I couldn't stand the thought of my twin's brilliant brains spread on the wall as well, so I stood up and put on the cocky smile you all know and love –"
"That's debatable."
"But that's why we're here," I say with a laugh, "'No man, it's my turn.'"
"A noble sacrifice for your family. How old were you?"
"Fourteen. I ran drugs in the day and rented in the evening. She never spoke another word to me. She wouldn't look me in the eye or take anything I tried to give her. The only gift I could give her was breathin' room to be something better. She was the only one in our family smart enough to get us out of the slums and she eventually earned a scholarship to Junon University when she was seventeen. She left, and never looked back."
"Her accusations make sense now, in context at least."
"Nothin' she said was a lie," I say, sighing. "I was a 'stupid whore' no doubt. She has a right to be angry at me."
"Does she?" His eyebrows fly up.
"Everyone's got a right to their feelings. That's what the shrink at Shin-ra told me anyway."
He grunts an uncommitted sound, making me chuckle. "How'd you end up a Turk?"
"What?! My sordid childhood isn't enough for you? You some kind of sadist, taking pleasure from other's pain?"
"I'm merely curious. You have somewhere else to be tonight? When half the town wants to lynch you?"
"I guess when you put it that way, ha. It's a stupid story. Rude purchased my services."
"You and Rude? I thought he had a crush on Tifa?"
"Oh, man, does he ever! But sometimes when you can't have what you want, you'll settle for what's available. 'Sides, there's nothing wrong with playin' both teams as long as you're loyal to the one you're with."
I finish another bottle and am about to get up when he pushes his half-empty bottle across the table to me. I nod my thanks.
"What about you? Has there been anyone since –"
"No," he cuts me off, "But Cloud says I need to move on."
"That's pathetic."
The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile.
"Agreed. He purchased your services and then what?"
"Someone tried to kill him while I was ridin' him. I didn't take kindly to being shot at, so I helped Rude. Can you imagine two naked guys beatin' some asshole to death? Yeah, well, it was team buildin', and he recruited me before I had my pants back on. We've been partners ever since."
"Oh? Partners?"
"Not like that. He really is in love with Tifa, the poor guy. And even if he wasn't, he's my friend."
"You ever been in love?" he asks. I guess the question about his girl had been a bit uncalled for, so I couldn't blame him for asking.
"I'm not sure what love is. I thought Rufus loved me for a while and I let him fuck me, but he was too much of a narcissist to love anyone. I kinda guess I gave up on all that shit."
"We are a matched set of dysfunction, aren't we?"
"What do you think? Can you convince your friend to not 'quarter me with chocobos and feed me to the Midgar Zolom?'"
"I will speak to him on your behalf. I'll get him drunk, then sober him up with tea and then he'll calm right down. Maybe once he knows what you did for Shera, he'll help you two reconcile."
"Don't hold your breath, Valentine."
"Kisaragi says that I need to try more optimism."
"It doesn't suit you."
"I'll report back that the experiment was a failure." He chuckles lightly. I finally score a point.
"I owe you for intercedin' when things went to hell earlier. You've definitely kept your Turk demeanor. Let me know when I can return the favor."
He stands, his armor creaking softly.
"Lock the door behind me," he says. "I can't guarantee your safety yet."
"Well, do me one last favor and come by and tell me the verdict before you go to sleep."
He stops at the door.
"I don't sleep often, Reno, I don't need to, but I'll be back once I've spoken to Cid."
"Thank you; you don't owe me nothin', yet you'd done right by me. I'm… thankful."
"Once a Turk, always a Turk," he says, putting his index finger to his brow and then sweeping it forward. He closes the door behind him, leaving only an intriguing scent: a mixture of metal, gun powder, and blood.