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The slightly slurred moan from Reno's
mouth as he began to awake, with both a heavy hang over and a nasty lump
on his head, alerted Cid who promptly poured another cup of tea and sit
it on the table next to him. A bit of an amused smile on his face as he
watched Reno struggle ineffectively before his eyes finally opened and
he stared, uncomprehending, at the pilot.
Cid 'The Captian' Highwind had taken charge
over his small community as they got him the things he needed after the
short attack in the Inn. They had cleaned up the slight mess the drunken
Turk had caused, and gave Cid all he asked for. They didn't seem to completely
care what Cid did to or with Reno, as long as he got him out of sight.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Now Reno, and his chair, was settled nicely
in his kitchen, the soft, warm glow of oil burning lamps casting out the
night's darkness to beyond the house's walls. The light scent of a sweet
smelling tea filling the room along with something in the oven. Thin,
white lines of smoke crept upwards from the ever burning glow of Cid's
cigarette, curling and slowly vanishing the closer they got to the ceiling.
The only sounds were crickets chirping outside, and the soft breathing
of both respectable men.
"Sugar, cream?"
Reno continued staring at Cid. He didn't
understand the question. The older man wondered if he'd hit him too hard,
or just had far too much to drink. He wiggled his fingers, making sure
the redhead was paying attention to them and pointed at the teacup in
front of him and asked again.
The Turk closed his eyes and sat there,
shoulders slumped and head slightly hung. Followed by an almost violent
jerking around, almost desperately trying to break or slip free of the
bonds that kept him very securely tied to the chair. Cid watched this
in amusement. He'd tied it all up himself, leaving only enough slack to
let the blood continue flowing through his body. Followed by crossing
his arms over his chest and guffawing in laughter as Reno managed to tip
his chair over and slam down on his side on the floor. This trapped one
of his arms under the chair and his own body wieght
At the yelp of pain, the Captian calmly
added a bit of sugar and cream to the second teacup. Only after stirring
it, did he get up from his own chair, and pick Reno's up again. Setting
it back at the table, he sat down again, picked up the teacup, and held
it to Reno's lips.
"Drink, stupid git. The more funny stuff
you try and pull, the less likely I'm going to feed you."
The redhead glared at him as he drank the
tea. Not a word had slipped passed his lips, but he drank from the cup
greedily. When finished, Cid poured and doctored another cup's worth and
left it sitting there, taunting, in front of him. If he wanted any more,
he'd have to ask for it.
"Why didn't you kill me?" Reno's words
broke the silence a few moments later, sharp as a knife, his eyes, though
clouded with pain and the lingering effects of too much firewater, were
studying Cid. Watching him like a predator calculating the weaknesses
of it's prey. Under other circumstances, this might have scared Cid into
action, but not today. Not anymore.
"What are you doing in Rocket Town?" He
countered casually. The space program may have been gone, but the name
remained. No one else really had any other good ideas what to call it,
and the world over probably wouldn't catch on, so the name stayed.
"I asked first."
"True, but I'm not the one tied to a chair,
under his captors mercy."
"... The Turks are dead. Answer my question."
Cid smiled, stubbing out the end of his
cig, and lighting up another one. "You just answered your own question,
Reno."
The redhead furrowed his brows slightly,
a flash of confusion passing through his eyes. His head hung again as
he tried to wrap his mind around it. In the days before, his mind would've
made leaps and bounds, understanding each and every clue. But he was older
now. His mind had slowed and rotted from so much booze and abuse. He still
had his street smarts, but what use were they when he was without a goal
in life. Without someone to compete against.
Cid broke the silence and explained in
more detail, seeing the redhead was having trouble with it. "It doesn't
matter who you were anymore, Reno. Not to me anyway. ShinRa is dead and
gone, and Midgar is nothing more than a monster filled garden. Crime has
been at an all time low, the 'heros' have split apart and gone their own
separate ways. We're just living right now. We're all recuperating from
a disaster that our kids will only hear stories of. We all knew you were
just following orders. Right from the beginning, everyone knew, from the
whole thing at Wu-Tai. We were loyal to the planet, and you were loyal
to ShinRa. As far as I see it, there's no point in feuding any more."
"... So why am I still tied to a chair?"
Hissed the redhead, clenching his teeth. The speech had struck a chord
in him, a painful one.
"Because my views aren't commonly shared.
They would've gutted you alive once you were unconscious, had I left you
to fend for yourself. And you still haven't answered my question."
"Nor am I going to, what's my business
is my business." He spat at his cool and calm captor. In the back of his
mind, he knew he'd already lost, tied here in a chair and without his
usual things to get him out. No friends or workmates to fall back on,
no hidden knives to cut the ropes with. They'd been sold so he could buy
more booze. He wasn't nearly as much of the man as he used to be. Why
did he come here?
"Oh? Well. I suppose I'm going to have
to accept that. For now. Hungry? I haven't had a dinner guest since Barret
dropped by with Marlene. She's shaping up to be quite the girl. Ofcourse,
that was a long time ago." He chatted conversationally with his silent
and boiling companion. Slipping out of his chair and fetching oven mitts
so he could get the small lasagna that he'd cooked from the heat box.
He cut the contents of the pan into nice,
good sized servings and put a square of lasagna onto each plate, along
with a bit of broccoli from the stove that he'd almost forgotten about.
He set one plate in front of Reno and sat on the other end of the table
with his own, fork in hand and began to eat. "Sow how has you're life
been shaping up? Or is it the standard life of a booze hound?"
"I have nothing to say to you." Replied
the hard voice of the redhead, his head leaned back and slack, eyes closed.
"Well, I suppose I'll just have to
keep talking then." Cid smirked. He'd find out why Reno was here. Though
the corporation Reno had been loyal to was now long gone, he knew the
Turks had sought trouble both before and after the run with ShinRa. Even
if the Turks were dead as Reno claimed, he doubted it was just a friendly
visit.
Some time later, Reno's lasagna
having gone long cold and Cid on his third helping, still chatting away
at his silent companion.. "Do you know the story behind my first airplane?
No? Wellll, surprise surprise. Ahh, childhood. I'd better start from the
beginning..."
Cid grinned slightly from the resulting
moan from the redhead. He was breaking. Slowly, but he was breaking. No
one could stand up to his twisted tales of machinery and technology. Not
without several years of study anyway. It was hard to stop for air at
some times however. He was talking about his passion here, his life's
work. Even if he knew it was probably making Reno's hung over mind even
worse, and the large likelihood that he was going to bore him to death
before getting what he wanted, he continued. It wasn't his fault that
people didn't have the compassion towards machines that he did.
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