Vincent wears his new "casual" sabatons for the first time on my birthday. He and Cid have worked for weeks getting them right. They're black and rounded in the toe so that unless you know what they are, they appear to be steel-toed boots. However, they support his cut tendon, allowing him to walk normally. He doesn't look "normal" by any stretch of the imagination, but he looks sexy in skinny black jeans and a black admantoise-neck shirt. He's wearing one black glove – but his other hand is bare.
"Someday," I tease, "I'll get you to wear another color, but you look hawt, so I won't complain too much."
"I have plenty of color in my wardrobe, Reno, because your hair sheds," he says, picking at a strand on this cuff.
"My hair is not thinning," I say, running a hand through my spikes. They spring back into place immediately.
He sits on the weapon's check counter as we waits for the rest of the group to arrive. My Electro-Mag Rod and Cerberus are already secured in the lockers, but that doesn't stop Barrett from complaining. Denzel secures his staff in one of the oversized lockers without comment. He's taller than I remembered, and he's filled out a bit since the Fort Condor incident. He's got more confidence, but then again, he finally worked up the courage to ask Marlene out, and the right relationship can mature any man, I'm living proof of that. He stares at her, despite all the commotion Barrett's making, in a way that reminds me of how Vincent watches me. Denzel feels my gaze and looks over. He's got a stupid, embarrassed smile on his face, but I grin back at him and give him a thumbs up. We haven't spoken about Sector Seven and my time with the Turks since that day on the airship, but he isn't hostile to me either; I'll take what I can get.
"Sir, I assure you that our system is very secure. You'll be able to access the opposite side of the locker inside the Battle Arena with the same six digit code you use on this side," the girl tries to explain it again to Barrett.
"If I take it off, then I'll be without an arm, lady. That's not happening. If you want me to unload and remove the Materia, I will, but that's the best I can do."
"Thank you, sir. Locker six," she says, directing him to the next open locker. He is the only person to complain so far… but Cid isn't here yet. Vincent and I have a five Gil bet on how many times he'll curse.
"Why'd you drag me here again?" he asks Marlene.
"To celebrate Reno's birthday, dad."
"No, Marlene, he's here for Shera's birthday. Mine being the same day is a coincidence," I snark.
"You made me come all this damn way for him?"
"Yeah, 'cause North Corel is so far away. It musta took you, what, twenty minutes?"
"Oh, sorry dad, I meant to say Shera's birthday; who'd come here to celebrate that asshole's birthday?" Marlene winks at me; I can't help grinning in return.
"You're a bad influence," he snorts at me. "That's the first time I've even heard my little girl swear."
"Hypocrite," Vincent says, then coughs.
I nudge Vincent's legs apart so that I can lean the back of my head against his chest. I use his thighs like armrests. He pulls gently on my short six inch ponytail and draws my head back. "You alright? No more pain?"
"Fine, it faded away completely before dinner ended," I exaggerate. The pain is gone, but it took longer than I'd hoped. Still, I smile upside down at him and he seems to believe me. "I just want some physical contact."
He folds forward to dangle his arms over my shoulders and drops them down my chest.
Cloud is all sweaty when he and Tifa join us in the lobby.
"So, how did the battles go?" I ask.
"He's still got it," Tifa responds.
"Twelve and O," Cloud clarifies. He's dressed normally in black jeans and sleeveless vest, but somehow he looks naked without his sunglasses, gloves, and sword. "I could have kept going, but Tifa said it was the time to gather."
Tifa shrugs and smiles. She's wearing a pretty black and white sundress and sandals. She looks unreasonably happy. "Is everyone here?" she asks.
"Cid and Shera were the last to arrive," I confirm. "He's having a fit about having to leave Venus Gospel in a locker." Vincent hands me five Gil note as the count of the curses we hear from the lockers goes way past twenty.
"We're the reason they don't allow weapons in here anymore," Tifa, says giggling, "he should try to remember that."
"'Savin' the world should get ya a pass,'" I quote my brother-in-law.
"We are the only people here," Cloud says.
"Except the employees and they are just protecting their people," Nanaki reminds.
"Stop talkin' about me, god-dammit," Cid complains. "I had to take Venus Gospel apart to get it to fuckin' fit."
"The same with the Fusion Sword," Cloud commiserates. "They should make bigger lockers."
From down the hall, I hear the former Turks laughing it up with Yuffie and Barrett as they come toward us. Shera hugs me with one arm from my right side. I turn and kiss her head. "Watch the ink, it's still tender," I quip.
"Another tattoo? Is there any unmarked skin left on you?"
"Oh, but you'll love this one!" I'm wearing a button down shirt with only two buttons hooked properly, because I know Vincent loves catching little flashes of my skin and, well, 'cause I'm lazy, so all I have to do is undo two buttons and pick up my right arm to show off part of the new tat
"It's less than a week old, so ignore the little bit of puffiness and red you see. That'll fade soon enough." Shera picks up the hem of my shirt and lifts it so that she can better see the tattoo that starts between the fifth and sixth intercostal space and curves back and up to end between my scapula and the thoracic vertebral spaces. Before the surgery I wouldn't have known any of those technical terms, and I still wouldn't if Nanaki hadn't tutored me in them, but it's kinda cool to be able to whip those terms out in conversation.
"You did not," Shera groans, and rubs her hands across her eyes. Tifa and Cloud come in for a closer look.
"Is that where they removed your lung?" Tifa asks. "Wow, I had thought that they'd cracked you down the middle."
"Thankfully, no. Can you image what that woulda done to my Cerberus tattoo? I'd have told um to find another way, but yup, that's the sans lung side. The scar was wicked cool, but I thought it was too serious for my personality."
"But a zipper? Really?" Shera groans again.
"I wanted gnarly barbed wire – like 'stay out, fucker' – but Vincent thought that was thuggish."
"Which is true," he says.
"I like it," Cloud says, nodding. "It says you've survived with your humor intact."
Before I can reassemble my shirt, Shera reaches out and traces her fingertips across my lower ribcage, skirting the scar/tattoo combo.
"You're too skinny," she admonishes. Everyone but Vincent and Cid find somewhere else to be.
"Yeah, but I'm better than I was six months ago, a year ago, a year and a half ago –"
"I worry about you."
"A appreciate it, but really, you can ask the President of the Clean Plate Club," I hook my thumb in Vincent's direction. "He'll tell you, I eat every bite of the carefully calorically calculated meals – six of them a day, mind you – and I snack like crazy in between them. But you've gotta remember, I've always had a stupid high metabolism and twenty pounds is a lot to pack back on in a healthy way."
"Ok, ok, it's just… two years and you're still this skinny."
"Why is everyone so obsessed with two years today?" I say, throwing my arms up. "The doc said I'd never be the same again, yo!"
"I know," Vincent says quietly. "It hurts to see him this way. I can't help but think of what happens if he gets a cold and loses his appetite or has food poisoning, he can't afford to lose anymore."
"Hey, no morose double-teaming on their birthday," Cid snarks.
"Happy birthday, Reno," Shera says, turning the conversation back to something a little less serious. I settle my shirt and redo the two buttons.
"You too, little sis, but it's no fair that you get to tell people you're twenty-five and I have to tell them I'm forty-five."
"Wait, I know that's a joke, but which one of you is actually older?" Tifa asks.
"Don't know, ma never knew, or if she did, she didn't care enough to tell us. I call her little sis 'cause she's shorter than me." Shera smacks me out of habit, then looks freightened; I laugh it off.
The lobby begins to slowly fill with people and a guy with a clipboard approaches Vincent.
"Sir, according to your guest list, everyone's here. If you would all follow me, I'm Jonathan and I'll be your guide tonight. We'll head over to the theater and go over the rules of the night."
"Best birthday ever!" I shout, and high-five Shera.