queenoflogs | sorry old man, but that's just the way that it is

Entry tags:

sorry old man, but that's just the way that it is

Characters: Tifa, and you!!! (sob open log finally...)
Date: Um...to...day? Maybe a little later in the evening. We'll say 5 pm-ish?
Summary: Mostly just...hanging out in the Seventh Heaven. Actionspam/prose is fine. You can make a thread with the intent of talking to Tifa or you can make your own threads. I don't care, go wild. If your character is tiny it's okay for them to visit! Tifa can cook for them. Or give them fruit juice, or mother them incessantly.
Warnings: Should be none! If there are any, I will update when necessary. Keep in mind any bar brawls can and will be broken up, and violently, by Tifa herself. That doesn't mean they can't happen, but they will be stopped.

Today had been a slow day, but Tifa didn't mind the silence, broken in intervals by the outside noises, the soft sounds of nature winding down for the night. She wondered, idly, if she should play the piano to join in. It had been a long time since she'd been surrounded by so much nature. It was a little overwhelming, at times. She was reminded of leaving Midgar after years of being under the oppressive Plate, of being shown the sudden clarity of clear, boundless blue skies. It felt like she was falling, as if the ground would disappear beneath her feet. She felt a lot like that, lately.

Without anyone around to break up the monotony of the evening, Tifa distracted herself by cooking, taking inventory, anything to keep her busy. There were so many different kinds of liquor, stuff she'd never even used before. She'd been entertaining herself during her downtime by figuring out what went well together. She never was one to drink much herself, but figuring out new mixes was something she'd always enjoyed.

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Finding a bar had been one of the best things that had happened to Rico since she'd gotten here. Which wasn't especially saying much, considering she was plopped into some fairy tale bullshit against her will, but at least she could get liquored up enough not to care. So she found herself, once again, sitting at a bar stool, just relaxing.

How was she going to get home? What must her comrades have thought back in Emerald City? And was this really Gay-opolis like she'd been told? All questions that became largely irrelevant with a good bottle of whiskey in one hand and a shot glass in the other. She poured herself another shot, briefly admiring the shimmering, dark amber liquid as she held it up to her eyes. Then she threw it back, with a sigh of pleasure at the faint burn.

She probably didn't look overly friendly, this one, hunched against the bar, robotic hand curled around the base of a liquor bottle. Her eyes stare a thousand miles away. But that never stopped anyone from bothering her before, and it probably won't this time.

Quietness and unfriendliness do very little to deter a bored and liquored up Reno.

"Hey. Nice arm. I know a guy with one like that." She pauses. "Two guys. Yours doesn't turn into a gun, does it?"

Rico slowly turned her head, expression still frosty and unapproachable. Not that it seemed to be doing her any good. At the question, she glanced down at her arm, flexing the fingers slowly with a slight whirring of servos.

"A gun? Nah. Just hits people real good." It's not delivered as a threat, but the subtle implication was there, should someone look for it.

"Good. Looks like it." Reno nodded as she looked the arm over appreciatively, impervious to frost and subtle implications. She wasn't too worried about getting punched. Speed was her specialty, and fists and swords weren't as hard to dodge as bullets. Bullets were a lot faster and traveled farther. "I got shot with that gun arm once. Wasn't the greatest feeling, let me tell you."

She laughed. "So, you come here often? Or just when you get kidnapped?"

If anything, Rico just seemed to exude an even more prickly aura when the stranger started looking at her arm so intently. Usually, she wouldn't have minded being checked out by a redhead, but this wasn't quite what she had in mind. "I bet not."

"Aw, yeah, me and this place are old friends," she said, perfectly deadpan.

Like most professionals, Reno was interested in hardware, but if it wasn't her personal hardware, her enthusiasm was limited. Robot arms: seen them already. It had been a conversation starter, but now that the conversation was started, Reno leaned up against the bar, trying to get a better look at the rest of the woman, as well as the parts that were probably more interesting. If she noticed the decrease in temperature, she didn't seem to care.

"Yeah, I bet, you look like you're having such a great time," she deadpanned in return. "I just got here myself."

If anything, Rico seemed to relax a little at being checked out more traditionally. That tended to be her preferred way to be looked at. Drawing curiosity and gapes for being so starkly different was more obnoxious, but if a cute girl wanted to sneak a peek, well, who was she to judge.

Rico shrugged at that. "Beer is better than no beer." A sparkling conversationalist, she is not. "Lot of people are new. You want a medal, rosa?"

"Nice philosophy. I'm gonna have to write that down." Reno laughed. This woman was definitely her type--one of her types--but she wasn't sure if she was interested yet.

"I get it. This is some kind of culture shock, since we're all from different fucked up places. Where I'm from, when people meet up, they tell each other stuff about each other." Back home, most people already knew who she was. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it was fun being somewhere no one knew her. Except Tifa. But she was almost sure that wouldn't present a problem.

"If they handed out medals for getting kidnapped, I'd hand it right back." Maybe her professional pride should have been wounded, but there was weird magic involved. "Not that I'd want a medal for anything. I don't need a little piece of gold to tell me what I've done."

Rico just let out a soft snort at that one. Whether amused or derisive, nobody could tell but her, but it's all the other woman would get. She turns, though, sneering a little. Some people, she was rapidly discovering, don't know when to back down. "You're real persistent, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I bet you got scars for the memories," Rico added, rolling her eyes. She could tell this was the kind of woman who got herself in a lot of trouble. It was easy, being as she was that kind herself.

Reno would talk to almost anyone, if she felt like it. The Gardens were mostly dull so far, and she was not the kind of woman to hang around by herself, doing nothing. "I've heard I'm hard to get rid of."

She nodded, with an easy grin. "I do get in a lot of shit, but usually my partner heals me right away. I let her, if she wants." Reno spoke as if someone attending to her wounds was a quaint custom. "But I got a few scars. You wanna see?"

"You've heard right," Rico grumbled. She was very much a loner, even at the best of times, and being thrust into a bizarre environment was not doing wonders for her mood. Not to mention she was something of a depressive drunk more than anything.

"Handy, ain't it?" Not that Rico ever had to worry about such things. She could patch herself up just fine. But that comment with raise her eyebrows. She can't help looking interested. "Go ahead."

"Until I've decided I don't want to be around. Then I'm impossible to find." Reno seemed to be in a perfectly good mood, but appearances could be deceptive.

She shrugged. "Healing magic's weak, but whatever." She didn't need it. There were few situations she couldn't handle.

Her black jacket was already undone and her white shirt already partly unbuttoned, so it was no trouble to unbutton a couple more buttons and pull up the bottom of the shirt, revealing a long, pale raised scar across her ribcage. "Some asshole with a giant sword did this." Maybe not the best thing to say with Tifa around, but she wasn't in earshot. "Broke most of my ribs on that side."

"Impossible, huh?" Rico poured herself another shot and threw it back, whiskey burning its way deliciously down. "Don't believe much in impossible, myself."

Rico shrugged right back. "Dunno shit about magic. Nanos do the trick, though."

It'd be a lie if Rico said she didn't enjoy the view at least a little, but you wouldn't hear her say that any time soon. She might have even looked slightly impressed, if only slightly. "Looks like a nasty one. Must've been some shit you got yourself stuck in."

"Oh, you don't like absolutes? How about real, real hard, then?" Watching the other woman drink, she thought she'd have to get another drink of her own soon. Didn't want to risk sobering up.

"I don't know shit about magic either. Who does? Not even people who use it do. Speaking as one of those people. Nanos--that some science thing? I don't know shit about that either." She'll use it, no problem, but she doesn't need a big explanation.

"Yeah, we had to deal with some terrorists." She left the matter vague and moved on. "I've got a better one, though." She pulled down on her collar until her shoulder was revealed, along with some extensive, darker scarring. "Nearly got my arm blown off by an explosion. Then I had to dig through some rubble to rescue the president."

"Sounds better." She made a face, briefly. "Don't like being told there's shit I can't do."

"Guess not. And nanos, they're...fuck if I know. Little robots, I guess, in the bloodstream. Patch you up good." Technology was something she'd not been given much a choice in understanding. She either does, or her body wouldn't work real well.

Another impressive one, even more. She let out a low whistle in approval of that injury. "Damn. Hope you gave the assholes some of their own, for that one. And working for the president? Ain't you just hot shit."

"If you're that interested in finding me if I take off, we can play a game of hide and seek later." This chick got real touchy about exaggerations. She'd have to make a note of that and ignore it.

"Got it. Little robots." Even if she didn't get it, she'd have said she did, but she was familiar with similar things. For all that she professed not to know about science, she had to deal with and investigate it a lot.

"Oh, I always give back as good as I get. We had a crazy time a couple years ago. World almost ended. We've been doing nothing but dealing with the fucking fallout since then, but we make it through. And yeah, I am hot shit, thanks for noticing." Reno smirked. "So what do you do?"

"Good luck with that one," Rico snorted. Like she was going to play some kiddie bullshit game like hide and seek. The only people she went to find were ones who needed to be hurt.

Rico showed another slightly interested look when the redhead says that, world almost ending. Not as shocked as most would be, of course, because her life is quite unusual herself, but still. "Must be a hell of a time. Not that you seem like the janitorial type." She hesitated a moment. "I beat up people who need beating up."

"It's called a joke." Did they not have jokes where this chick came from? "Though I could maybe think of some fun ways to play hide and seek." She laughed, to illustrate the fact that she was joking this time.

Janitor. That's a good one. "Nah, I'm not. I'm special operations. After everything blew up, we had a plague, and then the president got kidnapped, then there were these monsters--" It never seemed to end, really. "But we get shit done." She nods at the woman's own job description, with a smile. "I do a lot of that, too."

Rico just rolled her eyes at the joke comment, but she grinned a little slyly at the follow-up. "Yeah? Want to share those fun ways, roja?"

"Sounds like a real headache," she said. Kind of sounded like her own life, sometimes, except maybe a little worse. Just had to replace it with nazis, serial killers, and government sanctioned killing machines. "Scars like that, I bet you fucking do."

Reno shrugged and smiled. "That all depends on what I hide and where I hide it."

Work sure had changed a lot once the world had almost ended. "Headache's one word for it. More like a giant, nonstop pain in the ass."

Well, at least not everyone here was completely lame. "Beating people up's one of the perks of the job."

"Oh, come on, now, you gotta give me more than that." But despite her sullen words, Rico looked more amused than anything. Was she actually warming up? Perhaps a little.

My, if she couldn't relate to that. "Sounds like you and me might have more in common than I thought. It's definitely the highlight reel."

"Aw, I gotta do all the work for you? Maybe you can use your imagination. Can't you think of any fun hiding places?" She's teasing--she doesn't mind doing the work, as long as it's fun work.

As is the case with administering beatings. "Yeah, there's something to be said for the satisfaction of a job well done, but it's more satisfying if you got to beat the shit out of someone while you did it."

"Hey, you're the one who brought it up, chica," Rico said with a shrug. "Shouldn't you come up with the first idea?"

And she was finding herself agreeing with this woman a lot more than she'd first thought. "Far more. I don't sleep as good until I've put somebody on the floor."

"Let's see...usually, I like my hiding places to be close, dark, and secret. As for what I'd hide in there, gotta be something small enough to fit, but big enough to matter." She put a finger to her lips, as if in thought, then laughed. "I'm real good at hiding. I like to keep it in as long as I can."

She nodded her agreement. "Lately, I've gotten sick of fighting psycho monsters, but I could really go for a good, old fashioned beat down."

Well that was certainly a come on if Rico had ever heard one. So she just grinned, slyly. "So, should I just cover my eyes and start counting to a hundred? 'Cause it sounds like you've got something in mind already."

"Well, you never know what the fuck you're going to find in this place. Seems like a real madhouse."

sorry old man, but that's just the way that it is

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