It's late Thursday, one of those muggy-damp evenings where everything feels wet even though the sky refuses to let loose with the rain. Cloud has finished his deliveries for the night, but for once he's sitting in a bar that isn't Tifa's. It feels strange-- he doesn't know this crowd, doesn't trust all the eyes on him-- and his drinking companion doesn't do anything to put him at ease.
"Yo, another round!" Reno yells in the general direction of the bar, pounding his shotglass on the sticky-worn table in emphasis.
Cloud hides a wince behind his own shotglass, tilting his head back to swallow the tequila Reno had insisted on buying him. He still isn't sure what the Turk wants. Reno isn't in any hurry to tell him, either.
"So where were we?" Reno looks curious and malicious at the same time, like a kid with a bug and a brand new magnifying glass to play with on a really sunny day. It's a look Cloud remembers well. He thinks of fights, wonders if Reno is thinking of them, too.
"You were telling me what a great guy you are," Cloud says, so dryly that someone a table over actually snickers. Reno doesn't notice, or at least pretends not to.
"Hey," he says, "I've saved a kid or two, right? I'm a regular fucking hero."
Something in Cloud's chest tightens at that, a burn sparking up right behind his breastbone. "Yeah? Does that make up for all the kids you dropped the Plate on in Sector 7?"
Reno snickers, leaning back in his chair, expression saying he expected no less. "You still mad about that? Tifa's over it."
"Tifa figures you'll be dead in a ditch soon enough, and that'll be that."
"Hn." Reno sort of grins, but there's more than a touch of irony there. "She's probably right. Lemme ask you something, though."
Cloud shrugs, makes a vague go-ahead gesture while he fiddles with his next shot.
"All those kids you save... They make up for that Gainsborough chick?"
There's a moment, a moment where Cloud almost leaps up, almost gives in to the urge to finally just split Reno in half with his sword. But his control is better than that, good enough that most people wouldn't even notice his hands tightening around the glass, as if it's a sword-hilt, or maybe a pale throat.
Still, it takes a good deep breath or two before he can answer. In his mind's eye, Cloud sees a serene smile, warm like the sun, something any flower would joyfully turn to.
"I figure that... one life can't replace another," he says, finally, eyes fixed on the dark-stained tabletop. The burning sensation in his chest fades like it's been touched with cool water.
"Well, there you go then." He can just see Reno shrug at the top of his vision. "You don't ever make up for her, I don't ever make up for them, and that's the way it is. We just go on."
It's probably the tequila, but Cloud can't really argue with him. He wonders if Reno ever aches inside, knowing what he's done. He wonders if Reno would recognize the feeling even if he did.
The table jars, and Cloud jerks out of his reverie-- Reno is standing, brushing at his suit as if just sitting around has gotten him dirty. He looks down at Cloud, eyes weirdly measuring, as if he's trying to read a schematic or a blueprint and isn't quite sure if he's got it rightside-up.
"So, next Thursday?" he says, casual, as if this is a regular thing that they've been doing for years, as if they're friends or something.
Cloud isn't sure what he's going to say. He feels as surprised as Reno looks when he replies "Okay, yeah."
Reno hesitates, smiling, obviously unsure but willing to go with it. "You buy the drinks next time?"
Cloud says, "Only if you don't piss me off."
Reno spins on his heel with a bark of laughter, heading for the door without so much as a good-bye. Cloud leans back in his chair, stares at his empty shotglass, and feels strangely at ease.
