"Look at you getting more than just a re-up
Baby, you got all the puppets with their strings up
Faking a like a good one, but I call 'em like I see 'em
I know what you are, what you are, baby."
Womanizer, Britney Spears
— sk —
It's never just mouthwash.
No, it's never just that. The former Rookie Turk darkly thinks, attempting to 'brood' like angsty heroes do, while munching on her latest addictive cereal: Chocolate Chocobo Kweh!
Why is it when men say they're going to do one thing, it essentially means that they are going to do a whole bunch of other things.
And for Reno, vanity and narcissism means that it isn't just about mouthwash – it's getting the minute details right.
Hell. He's changed clothes about five times.
Applied a little bit of make up, experimentally toyed with perfumes—cologne, as Reno automatically corrects her. It's cologne. And smoothed out his usually rumpled clothes, and somehow using special effects to make his red hair look all shiny.
Thankfully, he ditched the gaudy gold rings. And gaudy gold chains. And everything that is associated with pimps.
Though Reno is many things, he is not a pimpmeister. And though he may think so, Elena knows the truth. He isn't.
He's… a very strange purple mushroom.
Now, Elena's not entirely certain where the analogy comes from, but she's certain it's true and fits.
But how is a mystery.
— sk —
"What am I, your slave?" Grumbling, Elena steps out of their apartment, absentmindedly pouting.
"So long as you love me, 'Laney, I don't care what you are." Reno offers a smirk, eyebrows waggling suggestively.
Her pout changes into a frown.
Fucking womanizer.
Wonders why she's staring so much at the flowers that look like they're dying from his very touch.
Those poor, poor begonias.
"… I hate fixing up your tie, you know." Cheeks redden, and she's not entirely sure why. But the fact remains that Reno is terribly messy, and with a moan, Elena neatens him up, quite reluctant, but unable to help it since she can't stand his lethargy. "You should take better care of yourself."
"Relax." The redhead Turk smiles lazily, unconcerned by her notice of complaint. After all, she's stated it several times before, and not one of them has been acknowledged. "I have you, don't I?"
"Mm." She replies noncommittally, face darkening. "Guess so."
It's a prospect that she both loves and hates. And then shoves to the back of her mind.
Back to Operation: Reno the Romancer.
… and she hates it more than ever.
— sk —
It is quite clear that without being in the proximity of Tifa, Reno is charming—Reno can be charming—Elena is quick to rephrase.
Bats an eye, sparkling green, winking and oozing with just a dash of playfulness; Reno, if he has the motivation, can get discounts anywhere.
Elena would curse him, if that wasn't so damn useful for her own shopping trips.
So what it is about Tifa that makes him act so differently?
(This is not jealousy! It's… curiosity. Her mind justifies the emotion. Simply curiosity.)
— sk —
"What is it about her?" Eventually her… curiosity submits to being spoken aloud.
As much as she doesn't mind the silence that Reno is graciously giving her, she doesn't like to be confined to her thoughts. After a while, they tend to swallow her whole and drive her paranoid. Not all the time, but on rare occasions. Whilst she could admire the scenery of the park and the plants, this question just bugs Elena more that anything else.
"Hmm?" Reno, surprised by her break of thoughtful silence, looks at her, intent. "What was the question?"
Either her temper frays, or her patience is on an extremely short fuse – but her entire face is boiling. Although she can't say why.
"Tifa. What is it about her that draws you in, and attracts your romantic heart?"
If that sounds bitter, it's totally unintentional.
Either way, he sighs, lovelorn, and the blonde woman has to resist the urge to gag. It's going to be a monologue that she doesn't really want to hear, and she's regretting haven spoken the words in the first place.
But Reno, like her, is a chatterbox. And once he speaks, he will not shut up.
So she cheats, and zones out, giving the occasional nod when she can. Elena has to look attentive, after all. While on the way to Tifa's house.
Finally, Reno sums it all up. This is obvious by the terribly discreet intake of breath with a fumble of hands that rather remind Elena of a fly.
— sk —
"Tifa Lockheart is a beautiful woman. Unappreciated. And oh, so elegant." Hand on heart, a smile slides onto his face. And Reno knows, however hard to tries to phrase it, it never be quite enough to what he truly means – these descriptions merely inklings of the larger entity that is the brunette bartender. "Her kindness overpasses all others, yet though she can be gentle, there are layers of such ardour and strength, that it takes my breath away every time I see it."
Well. Tifa's punches do that too, but that's on a completely unrelated note.
"Uh-huh."
Apparently, his pixie helper doesn't seem to agree that these points are satisfactory. Fair enough, Reno shall take it upon himself to expand his vernacular and make her understand.
"Cloud's not here, she must be… lonely." Yes. That's the word to describe her exactly. "And here I am. Here to ease her from her loneliness."
At this, Elena scoffs, actually laughing. At his tone of voice, perhaps? "You are such a manwhore. That's not love. Try again."
What did he say that was wrong?
"Then… I suppose, it's the colour of her eyes. They are so brilliantly the colour of wine when she beams in happiness. They shimmer, when she laughs; and darken when she becomes angry. But they are always clear, and also so lovely."
"Wow…"
"I know. My admirance leaves me breathless too."
"Tch." A playful punch. "And your vanity rears its ugly head again."
"My vanity is never ugly!" Haughty once more, he takes up the gentleman's mantle.
On a more selfish note, if he dates her, there's a possibility of free booze?
— sk —
And with that, Reno knocks on her front door, hiding the pretty begonias that Rude so thoughtfully picked out.
With a yawn, Tifa opens the door, messy hair framing her face perfectly.
"Late night, ma belle?" A soft smile graces his cheeks. He makes sure to ignore the rolling of both his ladies' eyes. "I have come, from the watery depths of Hell, to beseech your forgiveness. And with it, I grant you a boon: these flowers…"
"Not roses?" Miss Lockheart gives him a cheeky smile. "If you intend on using clever words, then… shouldn't roses be your best bet to 'beseech my forgiveness', as you called it?"
"Ah, well." Tactical error on his part. Never should he rely on Rude for anything! (He'll take it back later. Of course he will.) But here comes his penchant for flawless lies. "I decided to try a different hand at winning your affections, mademoiselle. Roses are cliché, and you require more than that."
"Flattered, monsieur Reno." Oh, that accent is sexy enough to melt his heart once more. She arches her eyebrow, and out of the corner of his eye, Elena seems to be shaking with suppressed giggles. "Lucky for you that these flowers in particular happen to be my favourites, eh?"
"Oh, lucky guess, indeed." Rude is a genius. Credit is due for that bald mastermind. Hopefully it isn't portrayed through his slight smile, only looking relieved. Before Elena prompts him. "So you accept my apology?"
"Mm?" Her eyes blink, innocently wide. "What apology? All I see is you offering me flowers, not that I mind."
"Ah. Of course." So he's… actually going to say those words… gulping, Reno tries to take it in his stride. But this is a good thing: for no other, would he even imply it. "… I am terribly sorry for my behaviour the other night. It was… most inappropriate of me."
It's as heartfelt as he could muster. And Tifa takes them with a teasing grin.
"Well okay. You're forgiven. So long as you keep giving me flowers, I don't mind. And next time, don't hit on me in the bar? I am working there, you know. A business to run. Feel free to talk, but… no blatant attempts to woo me, alright monsieur Reno?"
"So then, outside work, you would suggest… a time and place?"
Tifa Lockheart takes initiative. Reno likes that very much.
"Excuse me, but I'm afraid we'll have to cut this chat short. We have got to rendezvous with a certain person." Elena coughs, stomping on his foot.
"Goodbye, mademoiselle." Reno blows a kiss, as he is dragged away, much to the amusement of his fair lady.
The brunette's laughter is heard a million times after the door shuts once more.
— sk —
And then it strikes Elena, this epiphany that she couldn't make sense of before, her hand still clamped onto Reno's collar, in the middle of her fuming
"Now I know why you're like a purple mushroom!"
It isn't because the mushroom is purple—it's because it's brown.
He's like one of those annoying little mushrooms with tiny fangs in Mario—the Goomba!—that everyone has the irrepressible urge to just die upon sight.
He's just purple because that sticks out from the scenery more, while brown is such a boring colour.
With that, they decide to report back to Rude.