Choice of Words
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the FFVII compilation (the game as well as all its prequels and sequels)…but the frustrating amount of sarcasm happens to be my own twisted mind's property XD
Summary: Everything that looks simple on the outside turns out overly complicated when delved into. Illogical logic, but apparently true.YuffieReno
Warnings: Sarcasm…if you're allergic, this is not a suggested reading. Sexual innuendo…though it's kind of light all things considered XD Complicated terminology and probably large amounts of entertaining spelling (I can't spell…just you'll be warned).
Brief Introduction: To alleviate most of the confusion that this story might cause, let me start by first saying that this will be slightly AU, taking place two years after the game, but not following the plot of Advent Children…and disregarding most of everything that happens after too :DReeve is the newly-inaugurated president of Neo ShinRa and let's, for the sake of this story, forget about the WRO altogether. Alright, so that's about it… -nods- If I remember something else, or if you have any questions, you'll see the more information (answers) up top of the next chapter XD
Early Morning Greetings
Luck is a fickle bitch, who cannot, under most circumstances, brag of holding one person's company for any significant amount of time and has a nasty habit of leaving her poor victims to their own devices at the most inopportune of moments.
What Reno's done to that whore is a mystery all its own, but if the Turk were to take a wild guess—judging by the more than slightly hazardous (for physical health and sanity) predicaments he repeatedly found himself in—it must have been something bad…
…Something really bad.
Because despite what many may think, long legs and big, innocent eyes on your couch at three in the morning aren't always consequent as proof of a good night. Especially if said long legs and big, innocent eyes are cordially blessing—with choice vilifications—the 'ambiguous he' (Reno had to admit, however: half of what she was saying was not all that far from the truth), the parents of that 'ambiguous he' (or lack thereof—because such a monster couldn't have possibly had a mother), the boss of said 'ambiguous he' (though the red-head could readily agree with everything concerning that particular part of his 'guest's' furious ranting), and, of course—the one thing Reno actually had a problem with—, a 'member' of the delegation of appendages that comprise the male body of aforementioned 'ambiguous he'.
'Ambiguous he,' of course, not being any more ambiguous than a neon sign pointing straight at the red-head.
Yes, indeed. Though somewhat disoriented, the Turk still picked up on the word 'impotent' within the girl's adoring mutterings that he couldn't tie anywhere else in her speech but to himself.
Of course, Reno was all-powerful (and he knew that very well)—never mind the fact that most would beg to differ. Hey! Just because said 'most' would appreciate to remain in denial of the man's ever-so appealing qualities, didn't mean he didn't know…and didn't take every convenient opportunity to proclaim…the truth!—but the accent on that word 'impotent' simply wasn't in the correct place.
And that little fact turned the fully-accepted—and fully-approved by the red-head himself—compliment into a very, very disturbing insult.
Though in truth, even that bold statement wasn't exactly what caught Reno's full and undivided attention, prompting the next inquiry:
"I 'do' what instead of women?"
…Perhaps, with a little imagination and lots of time spent in the gutter, the reader can surmise what exactly was said by Long Legs to provoke the voiced question without putting the author through the torture of actually having to write it out.
"You're concentrating on entirely the wrong part of the sentence," came an agitated and snapped reply from the female figure…
…on his couch...
…in his apartment…
…at three in the bloody morning…
"I think I have a right to know what kind of activity I have just been accused of engaging in!"
"I thought you didn't buy into the whole innocent until proven guilty bullshit."
"I don't," Reno rolled his eyes. "I was simply making sure I heard correctly, so perhaps I could provide further graphic detail on my, apparent, 'necrophilia' fetish."
"And so you admit to it!" The voice was sounding slightly more disgusted than the grimace of slowly-forming amusement that presented itself on the delicate features of Long Legs' face.
"I don't kiss and tell," the Turk replied childishly, barely restraining his tongue within the confines of his mouth. Oh, god, he was so tempted to just stick it out at her and look like the six-year-old that Elena firmly believed his brain only developed to the level of (but went no further).
"You're disgusting!"
"I wasn't the one who thought up the ridiculous allegation, missy."
"Perhaps it was ridiculous, but, apparently, not false."
"I don't think I've ever been falsely accused in my life," the red-head shot back with a lazy grin. "All my pegged victims have always, indeed, become victims with much thanks to me."
"You're psychotic!" She pointed an accusing finger at Reno, giving the Turk a suspicious look that dared him to disagree with her conclusion.
"At the moment, that adjective is quite nicely describing you, actually."
That earned Reno a rather innocent look from the girl on his couch. Batting long eyelashes at him, she made sure to bring back her stray finger, placing both hands onto her lap and neatly folding them. Long Legs gave the Turk's living room one, quick, cursory sweep with her eyes. Upon not finding another individual within the immediate area that Reno could have been referencing, she turned back to the red-head with a look of practiced surprise on her face
"You couldn't have possibly been talking about me."
"No," the red-head snorted in response. "I was actually talking about the horde of familiar women that aren't present." The feint hint at it being about time the girl reveal her identity making its way through his mocking words.
Long Legs, for her part, gave him a curious look.
"I'm familiar."
"You're female, and you're not breaking everything in my apartment." Reno rubbed a hand over his eyes, making them focus again as the orbs were slowly starting to glaze over from lack of sleep. "You're not someone who can be identified as familiar."
Deciding not to question his remarks—in light of her lack of desire to achieve full understanding of what the man was talking about (though she had a pretty good idea)—the girl fell silent, giving Reno an expressive look that obviously portrayed her lack of amusement.
"Was I that wasted?" came the eventual question from Reno, who was still standing at the door to his apartment as any ordinary guest who has not been invited inside.
"I'm pretty sure you were. I don't believe Turtle's Paradise even has soft drinks…forget serving them."
Though she was talking about a certain incident concerning Don Corneo and Reno was referencing intercourse, something clicked in the red-head's sleep-deprived brain nonetheless.
And all of a sudden, Long Legs wasn't all that unfamiliar.
"Brat?"
"As flattered as I am that you finally remembered me," Yuffie deadpanned dryly. "I would still appreciate you dropping that unfitting title!"
"What's unfitting about it?" the Turk teased, letting a small smirk slide onto his lips.
No longer finding this conversation half as entertaining as would have been necessary for her to continue it, Kisaragi turned away from her immediate company snottily, huffing in the process.
Of course, her actions only proved Reno's point, but the Turk had half a brain not to voice such thoughts aloud. The ninja wasn't looking up to tolerating much at the moment…
…And his EMR, being strapped to his belt, would take slightly longer to get to than the shuriken that was—Reno now noticed—resting innocently on the couch (right next to Yuffie).
Venturing a step into the room, Reno quickly followed it up with another, closing the door softly once he finally crossed the threshold. Receiving no violent reaction, but still keeping his movements as fluid as possible—rabid animals do, after all, more aggressively respond to sudden actions—the Turk lowered himself onto the armchair, which was situated slightly to the left of the occupied couch.
"So…three in the morning?" Reno prompted curiously after a stretched moment of less-than companionable silence.
"Time difference," came snipped from the ninja. Obviously, Kisaragi was not ready to start speaking civilly; her briefly forgotten fury at the man reappearing.
"It's no surprise that you're not quite sane, but I never would have guessed that your own little world actually functions on a different time table." Reno leaned forward ever so slightly, making sure to assume a convenient position that would, hopefully, help him dodge easily if, by chance, a few sharp objects were, let's say, hurled in his general direction.
"Ha, ha, ha," was the unenthusiastic response, followed by a death glare that clearly displayed the ninja's lack of amusement despite her mild retort. "Time difference between Wutai and Midgar," she clarified. "Wutai's six hours behind."
"Ah." It was Reno's turn not to sound all that pleased. "So you're as fresh as one can be at nine in the evening, eh?"
A nod and snicker was the red-head's reply, as amused eyes scanned over his exhausted form.
"And you, I see, are as fresh as can be expected of someone at three in the morning."
"Meaning not at all," Reno supplied graciously.
"Meaning not at all," Yuffie echoed with a soft laugh.
"Any particular reason you've invited yourself into my apartment?"
"Couldn't wait to see you!"
"Oh, how touchingly sincere," the Turk deadpanned, leaning back into the armchair he was currently occupying.
"What's wrong, Turkey? Can't quite believe that someone would actually want to see you of their own volition?"
"Lose the pet name."
"Trust me, the day I have a pet name for you is the day I commit suicide."
"And is there anything I could possibly do to push you towards self-injury sooner than that glorious day you speak of comes?" the Turk inquired sarcastically, not putting any spite behind the question.
"Yes. Once you're six feet under, I can rest in peace," Yuffie managed back sullenly, shooting Reno a cynical look that was decidedly lacking in severity—which, consequently, rendered her remark absurd.
"Well, fuck. Now that we've brought this lively conversation to that happy little conclusion that one won't die without the other's soon-to-be company, start explaining."
"What?"
Reno wasn't going to grace that undeniably eloquent inquiry with a response, but the one finger which presented itself in front of Yuffie's face as an answer didn't quite agree with his mind's rational decision. Though not boasting much eloquence either, Reno's response didn't give Kisaragi much of a choice but to drop her fake ignorance as to what he was talking about and, indeed, start explaining.
"Reeve has an assignment for you."
"And there was such a pressing need for you to tell me about it?...at three in the morning?"
"Your train leaves at six."
"Aw hell, thanks for the tipoff. Now I have all of three hours to get to a train station that's an hour's drive away!" Reno lifted his hands in the air out of frustration, letting them drop back, now sans energy, onto his knees. "And that's an estimate with knocking off a few old ladies along the way."
"I don't see why that's necessary," Yuffie huffed. "Senior citizens can see fast approaching vehicles just as well as anyone!"
"Maybe in Wutai they can, but here, they're all blind."
Yuffie gave him a weary glance, obviously giving up on trying to disprove his statement.
"What? It's true!"
"And back to the point…" Kisaragi offered Reno a pointed look.
"Why couldn't Reeve give me the briefing himself?" the red-head shot off curiously.
"The man's paranoid!" Yuffie exploded, which gave Reno cause to wonder whether her trip—which, it would seem, she thought unnecessary—to his apartment by Reeve's request got her riled up in the first place. "He's afraid of tapped lines or some other such…" she trailed off, waving her hands in an unidentifiable pattern about herself.
"Bullshit?" Reno filled in.
"In any case," she pushed forward, agreeing with the Turk's choice in noun full heartedly. "Reeve's currently in Wutai, at the moment, entertaining Dad's company more than likely. I left for Midgar this morning and was asked to deliver a few things to you."
Digging through the backpack that was carelessly thrown onto the floor at her feet, Yuffie managed to fish out the manila folder—that was slightly thicker than Reno would have liked—and the train ticket. Handing both things over, she nodded her head in concurrence to her finished task, giving Reno a teasing grin.
"You have a bit of light reading," she informed, looking to the folder in his hands that was filled with page upon page of small, black text.
"And I would assume you've read through it already?"
Yuffie paused, look darkening slightly as she regarded Reno.
"Reeve said it was a secret assignment!" she protested.
"Which is why I would assume you've already read through it," Reno pronounced slowly, a small smirk twisting the straight line of his lips.
"I did no such thing," she snipped indignantly.
"Of course not." He wasn't sounding all that convinced—and as anyone who knows Yuffie even remotely would argue: for. good. reason.
"Believe what you want, but I had better things to do than go through your briefing folder."
"Like what?"
"Like take an unhealthy dose of tranquilizers not to feel the bloody turbulence, that's what!"
"So the only reason you haven't scanned the information was because you were knocked out?"
"Why else wouldn't I read through a set of secret reports and outlines, hm?"
Reno couldn't hold back a chuckle at that. And here he thought she was vying for the title of a dignified individual who respected the word 'secret.'
'Tough luck,' the Turk thought amusedly to himself, now watching Yuffie rise to her feet.
"Feeling a bit bitter, brat?"
"You're wasting your precious time," she reminded him, for she was, indeed, feeling bitter…and wasn't about to admit to any such thing.
Picking up her backpack, the ninja slung it over her shoulder, readjusting it until the weight wasn't weighing down her worn out muscles as much. Taking her shuriken, she placed the weapon into a special set of holders on her bag, allowing the metal to cling slightly as it connected with the million unnecessary zippers that adorned the backpack.
"Two more questions," Reno halted her progress when she finally turned towards the door. "First, why was I at fault for Reeve's paranoia that you deigned it necessary to colorfully insult me for it?"
"Imagine Reeve and his pet cat, will you? How more innocent-looking can you get? It's not like I could stay mad at the man for any extended period of time." Yuffie grinned, turning back towards the Turk only to start backpedaling to the door.
"Good point," Reno had to agree with a nod and amused grin. "Second, will my lock need changing now that you've properly mauled it to get inside my apartment?"
"Probably," came the lazy response, stretched on all the vowels, as Yuffie disappeared from the red-head's line of sight altogether. The door opened briefly—to allow Kisaragi to slip into the hallway—and closed softly soon after—to hide the ninja's amused features.
TBC…
A/N: Thank you for taking the time read through this! I hope you've enjoyed…at least slightly. Though this chapter doesn't have much 'cept two smart mouths, hopefully it kept you entertained enough to pick up on the mystery that's about to follow :D It should be…interesting, I'd suspect. Though, I'd absolutely adore hearing your opinions! Love it? Hate it? Should back down on sarcasm? Should bring up the amount of sexual innuendo? You get the point XD
Thanks!
Red.