Rufus tries not to stare at the man – or rather teenager – in the hallway. His suit is incredibly rumpled, and his bright red hair, which looks as if it may have been cut with gardening shears, is a mass of gravity-defying spikes, tapering into a thin ponytail which curves around his spine and down to his waist. Rufus has never seen such a hairstyle. The man's left hand is jammed in his pocket, and he's lazily swinging some kind of metallic rod in his right. Rufus notices tattoos on the back of his fingers. He's looking at the portraits on the wall and doesn't bother turning as Rufus approaches.
The boy clears his throat pointedly. "Reno, I presume."
The teenager turns to him with a grin, swinging the metal rod up to rest on his shoulder. He has a cheeky expression and striking features; turquoise eyes and jutting cheekbones highlighted – strangely – by two crimson crescent shapes tattooed in slashes beneath his eyes. A pair of black goggles nestles in his hair at the top of his forehead. He has a collection of silver earrings in his right ear. His voice is a languid drawl; with a Midgar accent so thick it takes Rufus a few moments to process the words.
"Rufus Shinra, one presumes. Ain't you cute as hell."
He feels his face flush, tries to mind his manners in spite of his shock.
"Ex-excuse me?"
Reno tosses the rod – which appears to be a weapon – from his right hand to his left, and offers a handshake.
"Yeh, I'm Reno."
Rufus flicks his hair out of his eyes, sticks out his jaw and takes the Turk's hand firmly.
"How do you do."
The grin on Reno's face widens, and Rufus catches a glimpse of a gold tooth.
"How do you do, lil' bossman. Ready to go t' school? Y'want me t' carry that?"
"… okay. Thank you." Rufus hands over his briefcase, which Reno swings over his shoulder. The Turk leads the way out of the house, holding open the door for Rufus. Rufus leaves his home wearing a confused frown, trying to figure out whether or not he feels offended. Reno holds the car door for him before sliding into the driver's seat. Rufus watches as he lights a cigarette one-handed whilst simultaneously putting the car in gear. He looks over his shoulder to reverse the car and talks around the cigarette.
"What up? You want me t' play some tunes?"
"Reno!" He can't contain his consternation. "Would you mind not smoking in this car?"
"Ah. Shit. No problemo, jefe." He flicks the cigarette out of the open window, throws Rufus a sheepish, apologetic smile. "It's gone."
Rufus rarely wears his seatbelt, unless specifically told to do so (usually by Tseng or Emma, or sometimes other Turks if there's an occasion to take the freeway) – but about seven seconds into the journey he's scrabbling to fasten it. Reno weaves in and out of the traffic at breakneck speed, leaving a chorus of blaring horns in their wake.