II -- misguided cupid
He saw her first: her curves sculpted through an empty bottle of vodka as he'd held it in salutation. In a night induced by alcohol, he hadn't to conclude the frown crossing her lips wasn't one of irritation. Immature and relatively petite in her years, he had laid eyes upon Yuffie Kisaragi: capable of robbing and luring thousands, but a man's true interest caused her still to blush.
Men desired her either sprawled in jail or bed; she could single them out as they examined over her as an exotic animal, the subject of gossip in everyone's mouths. Old wives would often start dry comments, though most of it had washed down till it reached her ears. This wasn't because she was particularly good at her profession, Reno came to learn, but for she happened to be Godo's offspring.
His own mother had been a whore, his father an anonymous, so the burden and responsibilities a last name could add were incomprehensible to him. To him, that moment through that single bottle of vodka, she was scrawny girl in a night he was crawling out of his skin. No consequences to consider; his shadowy companions hadn't followed him this time, he had told the bartender.
"But get me another drink," Whilst listening to fractions of different conversations, "Nothing to knock me out; keep in mind I'm a professional," and to this the men stormed in laughter.
Yuffie was, in every sense of the word, a child. Pampered and avoiding society's many regulations of common sense, it was a mere game and she enjoyed the ride. Her father would naturally bail her of any situation; homebase was her hometown, which she strived to revive. Reno hadn't been aware an underage ninja roamed his surroundings, most especially not when it usually contained SOLDIER drunks and run-down prostitutes.
She came forth him with a flair of dizziness, her thin legs pale due to the harsh weather conditions, "Hi, you," her breath was pure vodka, and the hint of strawberries, "I've never seen you," she pinched him, "Maybe you're a big bad Turk that's come to take me away!"
Yuffie supported her frame on the counter behind him, bringing her lips and eyes close to his. In a drunk's perspective, nothing spins but rather it's a haze over the many colors you manage to perceive: red and green, hints of navy blue and the stench of metal. Obvious residents were beginning to glance behind their shoulders, the heed Reno hadn't come for.
"Just relax, will you?" He said positioning her on the chair to his sides, "You've gone sharp ends on you, should've disposed them before you got so fuckin' wasted." His lit a wide cigarette and dragged it like an elder searching for oxygen, "You're probably cut for Shinra, you know, with all that gear and fake identities; definitely the sort of material I'm hired to scout," but before Reno could finish, the girl had fallen to his shoulder.
"Ummh...?" A trail of drool came down her chin; her being nearly featherweight, the fed-up Turk carried this still anonymous nuisance out the bar's door, and to the balcony where the sun was beginning to rise over the Wutai mountains.
She wore an oversized button-down shirt, which he could notice didn't belong to her. She smiled, her legs dangling from side to side, the sounds from her mouth indicating she would puke any given second, over all his refined clothes.
"You're so young," he commented under his breath, "That's probably why you can't hold in your alcohol. Being so puny and driven doesn't help, you know," his cigarette nearly slipped off his gritted teeth. It was an icy night.
But to this she kicked him, and pushed away, her eyes startled, "I don't need anyone to take care of this /little girl/," she had pieces of his materia locked in both hands, which still seemed not to support them, "Later!"
"Fuckin' thief!" Reno began to reach for her, contemplating whether or not he should run in this state, but she was miles away, as well as on top of a roof.
He saw her first: her curves sculpted through an empty bottle of vodka as he'd held it in salutation. In a night induced by alcohol, he hadn't to conclude the frown crossing her lips wasn't one of irritation. Immature and relatively petite in her years, he had laid eyes upon Yuffie Kisaragi: capable of robbing and luring thousands, but a man's true interest caused her still to blush.
Men desired her either sprawled in jail or bed; she could single them out as they examined over her as an exotic animal, the subject of gossip in everyone's mouths. Old wives would often start dry comments, though most of it had washed down till it reached her ears. This wasn't because she was particularly good at her profession, Reno came to learn, but for she happened to be Godo's offspring.
His own mother had been a whore, his father an anonymous, so the burden and responsibilities a last name could add were incomprehensible to him. To him, that moment through that single bottle of vodka, she was scrawny girl in a night he was crawling out of his skin. No consequences to consider; his shadowy companions hadn't followed him this time, he had told the bartender.
"But get me another drink," Whilst listening to fractions of different conversations, "Nothing to knock me out; keep in mind I'm a professional," and to this the men stormed in laughter.
Yuffie was, in every sense of the word, a child. Pampered and avoiding society's many regulations of common sense, it was a mere game and she enjoyed the ride. Her father would naturally bail her of any situation; homebase was her hometown, which she strived to revive. Reno hadn't been aware an underage ninja roamed his surroundings, most especially not when it usually contained SOLDIER drunks and run-down prostitutes.
She came forth him with a flair of dizziness, her thin legs pale due to the harsh weather conditions, "Hi, you," her breath was pure vodka, and the hint of strawberries, "I've never seen you," she pinched him, "Maybe you're a big bad Turk that's come to take me away!"
Yuffie supported her frame on the counter behind him, bringing her lips and eyes close to his. In a drunk's perspective, nothing spins but rather it's a haze over the many colors you manage to perceive: red and green, hints of navy blue and the stench of metal. Obvious residents were beginning to glance behind their shoulders, the heed Reno hadn't come for.
"Just relax, will you?" He said positioning her on the chair to his sides, "You've gone sharp ends on you, should've disposed them before you got so fuckin' wasted." His lit a wide cigarette and dragged it like an elder searching for oxygen, "You're probably cut for Shinra, you know, with all that gear and fake identities; definitely the sort of material I'm hired to scout," but before Reno could finish, the girl had fallen to his shoulder.
"Ummh...?" A trail of drool came down her chin; her being nearly featherweight, the fed-up Turk carried this still anonymous nuisance out the bar's door, and to the balcony where the sun was beginning to rise over the Wutai mountains.
She wore an oversized button-down shirt, which he could notice didn't belong to her. She smiled, her legs dangling from side to side, the sounds from her mouth indicating she would puke any given second, over all his refined clothes.
"You're so young," he commented under his breath, "That's probably why you can't hold in your alcohol. Being so puny and driven doesn't help, you know," his cigarette nearly slipped off his gritted teeth. It was an icy night.
But to this she kicked him, and pushed away, her eyes startled, "I don't need anyone to take care of this /little girl/," she had pieces of his materia locked in both hands, which still seemed not to support them, "Later!"
"Fuckin' thief!" Reno began to reach for her, contemplating whether or not he should run in this state, but she was miles away, as well as on top of a roof.