"Sleeping Beauty's in a foul mood

For shame, she says

None for you dear prince, I'm tired today

I'd rather sleep my whole life away, than have you keep me from dreaming."

Fairytale, Sara Bareilles

— sk —

It starts how it always starts.

With Reno.

With Reno and shiny stars dancing oh-so-prettily in his leaf-green eyes.

With Reno and shiny stars dancing oh-so-prettily in his leaf-green eyes, and the words that come out in a sigh:

"I think I'm in love."

— sk —

Shuffle the deck, dim the lights and take care.

It's a simple checklist that's a mental mantra.

Specifically, one that screams in neon – a thought that circulates the nature of this game; in fact, this game is only ever played because of Reno.

And that's mainly trying not to let the Elena-pot boil.

Problem is, is that the Elena-pot is boiling pretty badly.

All the symptoms are there: the white steam, the exploding bubbles, toils and troubles. Rude wouldn't be terribly surprised if an eye of a newt, or a frog's tail was hidden at the very bottom of the stove. Because Elena could be a witch at times, when her temper was in a particularly bad mood and the only person to suffer was him, and his precious ears.

Of course, Elena could also be something else that rhymes with witch, but Rude is sympathetic today and understands where she's coming from.

Because he too is fuming; but far more discreetly than Elena ever will.

"That stupid bastard!" She seethes, red colouring her cheeks, as her arms fold over her chest, she huffs. "Stupid Reno and his womanizing ways."

"… stupid Reno and his romantic ways." Rude calmly corrects her, quite glad at her temper tantrum directed not at him.

Were this any other conquest, then Reno would deal it as he normally would: chat-up lines, a charming smile and a dazzling wink that would no doubt lead a lady to the bedroom. If they were quick enough to find one.

But no.

This wasn't like that.

Since Reno liked a challenge. Since Reno fell in love. Unfortunately.

It was rare, but it happened. And then the red-haired seducer would go to extreme lengths to capture the heart of his woman of that he supposedly 'loved'. Yet he could never do it alone: he needed a partner, a cohort to work with and meticulously strategize his strengths and weaknesses.

"Well, yes." Irritable, Elena shrugs, annoyance shifting her furrowed eyebrows. "That too."

And who was the partner?

Why, none other than either Elena or Rude.

That led to them to this Very Important Situation, that both despised Reno greatly for.

Neither wanted to be his partner, not in Reno's Romancing Routine.

And so… here they are.

Determining the outcome, who was to be the Main Sufferer, while the other also suffered, but was able to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show, bringing popcorn if they so desired.

"Alright. Are you ready?" Holding his breath, Rude counts to five.

"Yes! Wait—no! I mean, yes! Before it's too late, now deal! Deal!" Cheeks bursting into flames, Elena changes her mind, before settling into her 'concentrated' mode. "Hit me!"

Patiently, Rude deals the cards.

It's going to be a long night.

Mostly because Elena will change the game half-way through playing; since she assumes that Rude's lucky winning strike is really him secretly cheating.

Preposterous!

Rude never cheats.

Unless he has decided that tempting fate is the best way to set things in motion.

— sk —

Dawn slowly creeps in.

Black jack. Poker. Twenty-one. Slam! Speed. Bullshit. Cheat. Patience. Go fish. Happy families. Pinochle. The games go on and on. Most of them are the same with just a different name.

And it's finally come to this.

One of two options, held in Elena's hand. Take the left, and Rude may find himself just enjoying the show. Take the right, and Rude may find himself in it.

Heaven or Hell. That is the question.

"So." It's long and drawn out.

"So." The word echoes emptily, the sentiment mirrored.

"Who is the other card?" Carefully, he enquires, engaging her for the sake of the reaction – the telltale giveaway of the flushing cheeks and darting eyes that used to catch Elena off guard.

Yet he's forgotten: he's trained Elena well.

Composure is less easily broken, and her motor mouth is more a function to catch people unawares, thinking she's a clumsy gossip with the heart of sunshine. There's tranquillity, and when focused, her heartbeat slows down, and the thoughts are processed before her mouth even utters another syllable.

She concentrates, inhaling deeply before glancing at the cards, eyes equally residing on both of them, expression neutral, amber eyes perfectly void.

"The bedpost queen."

"… I see. Queen of Spades."

And with that, he picks a card, his spidey-sense tingling.

Blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"… huh." He actually… got lucky.

Elena did not.

"Why?" She moans, her calm composure gone; head colliding into the table, as she chucks the suicide king – the King of Hearts – pathetically, as it floats like a feather, flopping to the ground. "Why me?"

"Aw, poor baby." It's Rude's only words of comfort. That's all he can really offer her when he's internally cackling with glee, relieved.

This time, Elena is Reno's Partner. The One Who Suffers the Most.

"… I hate you, Rude." She whinges, face reddening with humiliation. "Some friend you are."

He should protest at that – usually he fixes the outcome so he loses, but this time, he'd had enough.

Plus, he had suspicions. Various suspicions about various things.

"There, there." Quite coolly, Rude starts to pick and neaten the pile of cards for Next Time. "It'll be over soon."

"I sure hope so." Mumbling into the table, Elena's eyelids droop, overcome by tiredness. "You give him a great big ol' black eye, right?"

"With pleasure." Tentative, the bald Turk pats her head, ruffling her blonde hair and making sure that it doesn't get in her eyes; certain that she is asleep.

Then says:

"Reno, you git."

— sk —

And who is the latest conquest, the 'Love of His Life'?

Why, none other than Tifa Lockheart.

— sk —

Disclaimer: ffvii. not mine.