33. Expectations
Everyone had expectations of the fresh Turks. And Reno knew each and every one of them expected him to fall in with them. He smirked from his place in the line of new Turks.
Tseng expected decorum at all times. Reno tossed aside his tie first day, and his shirt was how he liked it damnit. If he was cold he'd zip his jacket, but he was rarely cold. Tsengs expectations were thrown out the window with this one redhead.
Veld expected them to be innocent, to choke on their first kill or to go to therapy regularly. Yet another expectation he threw out the window, along with Tsengs. His hands were already bloody when he joined, so that the sniveling man who'd drawn the ire of the Company was no loss to his conscience.
Rude expected him to be scatterbrained and flighty. Reno couldn't really blame him for that one, really. It was his personality, after all. But he was very logical, and he excelled at what he chose to do. He was never, ever late. Untidy, energetic, and foul mouthed he may be, but the day Reno Sinclair was late was the day he died.
He looked at his superiors expectations and laughed. Some might say they broke the mold when they made him, but Reno knew better. There was no mold. So all their expectations, preconceived notions of what he should be, were all wrong.
And he was proud of that.
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Wow. That one is kinda…deep yo. I like it!