. . . sUgAr pLuMs . . .
Christmas Eve, with all it's wonder and merriment did nothing for Reno's mood. He had thought about drinking, smoking, wenching – but nothing beat the small white stick in his hand. He brought it to his lips carefully, sucking in with gusto.
"Shit, still does the trick," he said after swallowing, bits of the blue powder stuck around his lips, "I wonder who the fuck came up with this. Fucking genius." He tossed the pixie stick husk aside, and reached around in a large paper bag next to him.
"Hmmm...candy cane," he said, producing said object. From his spot on the curb, he could see the last minute shoppers, shuffling about the streets of Midgar. An old lady glared at him, with his shirt untucked and threadbare sweater. He answered her by making obscene pantomimes with the candy cane. She sniffed, and shuffled away quickly.
"That's right, old bag," he smiled to himself, sloppily sucking on the end of the cane, "You know you want it..." He leaned back, unfolding his legs out in front of him. The dirty snow of Midgar was soaking through his pants, but he didn't mind. He was a slob, after all.
A damned good slob.
He liked this sector, it was quiet and only a little bit dirty. It was like a scuffed pair of dance shoes; still nice no matter how much abuse they took. He came here when he forgot how to get home, or when he'd prefer not to. It was nice to come here scare old ladies and give teenage girls something to sneak out of their houses late at night for...
Well, that was the fantasy anyway. It only worked 75 of the time. Some of the girls were really married women in disguise. Those didn't count; they were too easy.
A cute little red haired girl waved at him, whilst he was caught in his silent appraisal of his skills. She wore nice clothes, but the skirt was way too short. He could do for a quickie... He gave a quick check of the ring finger before he wrote her off completely.
He never did like redheads.
Only Tseng knew where he was, and he left him to his own devices. Rude was undoubtedly visiting his family, or what was left of them. Elena too had a family, somewhere on the upper plate, and would be out of his hair for days, he figured. And Tseng... now was not the time to dwell on that.
Now was time for another candy cane.
"Almost forgot about sugar..." he muttered, fiddling around in the bag. He pulled out some licorice, and since he wasn't picky, started gnawing on it. He had ropes of the stuff, much to his delight, and silently thanked whatever powers of chance led him to the candy shop before it closed. He didn't need to be thankful for the gil. That came with the territory.
"There you are," a girlish voice spoke, "I thought you'd be in a bar by now." He lazily let his eyes wander to the voice, and chuckled at what he saw.
Snow boots. White snow boots with fuzzy fringe at the tops, which fell somewhere midcalf on legs that were skirted in bright red. He only knew one girl that would wear something so impractical in this weather...
"What the hell are ya doin' down here, 'Lena?" he drawled, chewing the last of the licorice. He looked up to a red coat with more of that white fuzz, and a blond head capped with an even fuzzier white hat. And a glare. He did well.
"I could ask the same of you," she said, with that mock indignation that told him she had not intended on running into him. All the better.
"I'm a free man," he replied, reaching into the bag again, "At least I don't kill cute 'lil animals for fashion." He pulled out another candy cane, and used it to illustrate his point.
"I didn't kill them!" she exhaled, tapping a white boot as she spoke. He smirked, clenching the candy cane between his teeth. She was annoyed, and he was just warming up.
"Course not," he said, his smoker's ease allowing him movement to speak with the candy still in his mouth, "Your aim is for shit." More red, as her face took on the hue of the coat. If only her hair were white, and she'd been perfectly color coordinated, with the exception of her eyes. They were a livid tiger stone, many shades of brown which only came out when she lost a little control of herself.
"Fine, then you're not getting a present," she huffed, crossing her petite arms which were burdened with her capitalistic conquests. He rolled his eyes, but kept his focus on the bags.
"Didn't expect anything," he replied coolly, playing on her inability to be ignored, "'Sides, you'd probably get me something stupid anyway." She tapped her foot again, but remarkably kept her mouth shut.
"Speechless? Elena de Fancie Pants is speechless?" he continued, getting into his usual rhythm of teasing and control. That's why he was secretly glad for her addition to their ranks; she allowed him to control.
"My name is Elena de Franpeux," she replied, her voice muffled by her concentration as she shuffled through one of the bags. Now Reno was curious.
He slowly rose, his knees complaining from the awkward position he'd been sitting in for so long. She didn't seem to notice his movement, and he peered down at her, with a feline sort of fascination. She shuffled for quite a while, and he almost thought she was trying to ignore him.
But soon she turned her big brown eyes up to him, something wooly in her white gloved hand. He regarded it with all the interest an elephant gives to a fly. But he figured he'd humor her.
"What is that?" he asked, finally paying attention to it. It was a shapeless lump of very fuzzy yarn, with a big red bow clinging onto it for dear life.
"A Christmas stocking!" she replied, brushing off his distaste, "I knitted it myself." He smirked, satisfied that he'd have something to add to the list of things to tease her about. She made it too easy.
"Huh," he said, reaching over and holding the blob with two fingers, "Is that what it is." She kept that childishly happy look on her face, and he couldn't help to sneak a little smile.
"There's candy and something..." she whispered, leaning in conspiratorially, "...useful in it." He studied it with more care, interested to see Elena's definition of useful. For all he knew, that meant lipstick. Or something fuzzy. She sure seemed to like fuzzy things.
"Well..." he said, darting over to his bag, "...want some candy?" Her eyes lit up, and he knew that he would have to say something snarky or she might get mushy on him...
"You can have the rest of this candy cane," he quipped, making sure that plenty of drool clung to the end as he pulled it from his mouth. She wrinkled her nose.
"No thanks," she said, shaking a hand in front of her, "I gotta go find the other two anyway." He shrugged and watched as she tottering down the street, her impractically girly boots making light clicks on the pavement.
He immediately rummaged through the stocking. Soon he found something that didn't feel like it was made of sugar. It was something he'd grown quite familiar with, and almost started laughing when he saw it in the light.
A small flat circle. And gold too. The small letters of "TROJ" could be seen where his thumb didn't grip it.
And she was smiling at him, concealed by groups of people. She knew that she'd picked right. She hummed a little to herself as she gave him a last glance, and nearly skipped her way to the lower plates.
"Hmm...Honeybee Inn on Christmas Eve..." he muttered to himself, when he knew he was out of her sight, "Maybe they've got a special or something..."
And with that, he too headed towards the lower plate, tossing the bag of candy to a kid as he made his exit from Sector Four.
AN: Merry Christmas cobaltdragonfly! Hope that this qualifies as silly...