Reno suddenly emerged from the bathroom on the floor of the Shinra building that belonged to the Department of Administrative Research. Rude almost collided head on with him in the cramped corridor. They both jerked to a stop, recoiled a little from each other. Reno stood in front of the closed door with his feet apart, suit hanging slack off his skinny limbs. He wouldn't meet Rude's eyes.
"Oh, hey," he said. He flicked his head back in the direction of the toilet. "Might want to give it a minute." He scuffed his shoe at a torn fleck of paper on the linoleum floor.
Rude was silent for a moment. In the office space behind him, fingers scuttled over keyboards and the photocopier whined. Then he shrugged and reached past his partner for the door handle. Reno stepped to block him, a hand raised, palm out.
"Woah there, slick," he drawled. "Didn't you get what I just said? Do I need to spell it out for you? It smells terrible in there. Just god-awful. Like, I can't even begin to... Just wait it out a minute, okay? I opened the window."
He finally locked eyes with Rude and his gaze was so unusual in its earnestness, its solemnity, that it startled the bald Turk. The last time he'd seen Reno look like that was...well, there had been some serious shit going down then, too.
"Reno, I don't care," he said. "I need to take a leak."
He tried to edge his way around his colleague's other side, but again Reno stepped sideways to block the corridor.
"Why won't you take my advice, yo? Don't you trust me? I'm trying to shield you from something truly awful here. I have only your best interests at heart," Reno said. He plastered one hand over the left side of his chest.
Rude let out a pained sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, where his glasses would be resting if he were wearing them. He shook his head slowly. Why was Reno making such a big deal out of this?
The exhortation continued:
"Because, y'know, I would've thought after all these missions we've been on together, all the shit we've gone through, trusting me would be something you're pretty used to doing. Something that would come naturally to you."
He cast his arms up into a shrug and took a step backwards from Rude.
"Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the trust only goes one way. Because I'm telling you, if we swapped places, I would back right off. No questions asked."
Folding his arms, Reno rocked up on his toes to glare down at Rude.
Rude was sick of Reno's antics. The pressure was building in his bladder. His hands, he realised, were squeezed into tight fists. He tried to barge through, leading with his shoulder like he was in a dense crowd. Reno planted his feet and shoved. Rude stumbled back into the office. He was about to throw himself down the corridor again when his partner raised both hands in that universal gesture of surrender.
"Okay, okay," Reno said, "maybe you need to hear the full story before you can appreciate the magnitude of the situation in there. I'll tell it to you. I went on a date last night. Very pretty girl, Wuteng. Name was...ah, it doesn't matter. Anyway, jackass that I am, I let her pick the restaurant. She goes for this Wuteng place in Sector 8, very pricey, but the food! It was so hot. I didn't think food could cause so much pain. I could feel my mouth blistering up, it was horrible. But I can't let her see that I'm not enjoying it. I mean, this is how her people eat. She'll think I'm less of a man, or something, and then no way is she coming back to my place. So I finished it. Every goddamn mouthful. And today has just been...well, you can imagine. We've all been down that road. I was in the bathroom for half an hour. I tried spraying that stuff around, that air freshener stuff, but we all know that doesn't do anything. Which is why, if you go in there, you will regret it. Deeply. I'm telling you."
"I appreciate your concern," Rude told his partner. "But I'll be fine. Really." He braced himself for a final charge at the toilet.
Reno breathed a long sigh and let his weight fall against the door frame. His body, normally so rigid and angular, slumped and rounded out, and his gaze dropped to the floor. A phone was ringing back in the office.
"You want to know the truth, partner?" he asked Rude, looking up again.
Rude nodded.
"Okay. Well, going in there probably wouldn't be all that bad for you. You'd get over it, in time. It's me I'm worried about, really. I...I just don't like other people smelling it, y'know? You know me. I'm not really a private guy, but this is where I draw the line. There should be a law against it, or something. A man's shit is a deeply personal thing, right? Notice it's not ever a group activity. It's even more private than sex. And we seem to be, like, hard wired for it to be private too."
He was becoming more impassioned as he spoke. His eyes gleamed and with each sentence he rammed his fist into the palm of his hand. His body seemed to fill the corridor, swollen with righteous fury. Rude realised this speech had been brewing for a long time.
"I find the smell of my own shit deeply comforting. It's, like, a constant reminder of who you are, a part of you that never really changes. But other people's shit? It's horrible. Appalling. You know that as well as me. I think it's because we're not meant to smell each other's turds. Like whatever being made us was like, 'Okay everyone, here is something that is off limits. No go.' And it's not just people. Have you ever seen a cat take a dump? As soon as they realise you're looking, they're out of there, shazam! So if it's such a private, personal thing to do, why do we build these goddamn communal toilets? This is my place of work. I spend a lot – a lot – of time here. If nature calls, I want to be able to answer. But half the time I freeze up in there. Sometimes I sit fifteen minutes on that cold seat with no action down below. I'm always terrified that when I come out, there'll be someone waiting, and they'll go in and be like, 'Oh man, that Reno. What has he been eating? How inconsiderate. I like him less as a person because of this.' And then when we're out on assignment, or talking in the office, the whole time they'll just be thinking of that horrific smell. They'll judge me for it. I guess that's it. I'm afraid of being judged by the smell of my faeces."
Rude could not think of anything to say. He stared at his partner, who was panting a little, flushed in the face.
Reno blinked and suddenly he was himself again. His features fell into the lazy smirk that always hung on his face and his body slackened to its usual slouch. He slapped his stunned colleague amicably on the shoulder, fired off a grin.
"Thanks, man," he said. "Felt good to get that out of my system."
Then he strolled past Rude, back out into the office.
A/N: Today I was supposed to write an essay. Instead I wrote this. Is it even funny? Or does this kind of humour get old when you turn five? If you have time, any feedback on these issues would be really appreciated. Thanks for reading!