Chapter II

The chiming of the doorbell called the woman from her baking. Dusting her hands off on a towel, she wondered aloud, "Now who could that be?" and shuffled down the hall. Pulling open the door, she found herself face to face with a young man dressed in a smart navy business suit. He pushed a pair of sunglasses onto his forehead, revealing shocking blue eyes, and smiled at her.

"Ms. Norway?"

"Oh, yes! That's me," she said, taken back. "Maybe I help you?"

The man brushed a lock of ruby red hair from his eyes and explained, "We talked on the phone earlier. You said you had need of our services?"

"Oh, yes!" she cried again. "How silly of me! It''s a pleasure to meet you, Mr..."

He smiled once more and extended his hand."Reno, at your service."

"Mr. Reno, then. Please, come in." She opened the door wider and shooed him inside. The round woman lead him to the living room and urged him to sit down and have a snack. Unable to refuse her request, as she pushed him into a squishy chair that prevented him from getting up without assistance, he now sat with her, drinking tea, eating cookies, and wondering at what point he had wandered into hell.

Ms. Norway kept up a constant stream of chatter; everytime Reno began to speak, she burst into some new thought or revelation about cookies. "And did you know that chocolate chip cookies..." she continued her babbling while he discreetly inspected the house. Photographs and knick knacks adorned every shelf and table, and colorful ribbons decorated candlesticks. She looks normal enough, but then again, it could be a clever disguise. I wonder what kind of job she has for me?

"And after you add the sugar, you just-" she paused to take a breath (probably her first since answering the door, mused Reno) and he jumped on the opportunity.

"So, what kind of service do you require, ma'am?" Ms. Norway pause for a moment, as if she had forgotten the reason for her visitor, and then clapped her hands to her pudgy cheeks, crying, "Oh, yes! I'm so sorry, wasting your time like this, Mr. Rojo."

"Not a problem at all, Ms. Norway," Reno said through partly clenched teeth, trying to keep himself from leaping out of the chair and shaking the nut bag by the shoulders. It was fortunate for Ms. Norway, however, that she had seated him in that particular chair, for he was sufficiently subdued. It lead one to wonder if perhaps that wasn't her intent when inviting guests over.

The woman rose from her chair, saying, "This way, please," and headed down the hall. Reno followed, after a brief struggle in which he knocked over two lamps flailing his arms in an attempt to get free. He finally found that he could escape by sliding off the chair, as Ms. Norway had left her guest to fend for his own.

She reappeared seconds later with a small can in hand. "Aren't you coming, Mr. Relo?" Then she turned around again, waddling away like a penguin.

"It's Reno! " he called after her, but she either didn't hear or just didn't care. The frustrated man did a brief dance of insanity, making several rude gestures and punching the air, before following her squat figure once more.

She lead him to the backyard, a large patch of land brightened by flowers and several cheery birdfeeders. "I like to play with the birds that some around here," she explained. "I live by myself and it gets awful lonely sometimes."

"I can't imagine why," he mumbled to himself.

"What was that?"

"I think I saw a horse fly," he replied, saying it loudly as you would to a feeble old person. "I hear they're common here."

"Really? I've never heard that." Her tone was politely disinterested, and the woman quickly resumed her speech."As I was saying, it gets lonely around here. Why, I don't know what I'd do it if weren't for Mog."

"Mog?"

They stopped their march, and Ms. Norway pointed up onto the top most branches of an elm tree. Up at the very top, peering down at them with disgust, was a fluffy white cat, a red bow tied around its neck and a pom pom attached to it's head with a halo-like band.

Reno felt his eye begin to twitch.

Ms. Norway, or Absolute Whackjob, as Reno was beginning to call her, shoved the can into his hand. "Now, all you have to do is shake the can and yell 'Din din, Mogy-poo! Come get you frisky fritters!' and he should come right down."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Oh, my! He's quite tricky you know, I have to make sure he doesn't run away!" Absolute Whackjob waggled a stubby finger in his face. Hell, I'd run away too.

Reno looked up at the cat and sighed. A job was a job; money was money. But damn, he'd give anything to shoot someone again.

Whew! I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter, that's why I got it up so quickly! Have no fear; RenoxTifa action is in store! (cough) eventualy ...

Please R&R!