She watches Rude wipe the blood from Tseng and Elena, and she doesn't laugh. She stands back, watching silently. Even though she's smiling, she doesn't appreciate the disrespect represented by these phony versions. They're too close to the truth of what could have been. Tseng and Elena had been ripped to pieces and almost died, and if that little Remnant bitch hadn't been so arrogant, he would have cut Rufus' throat instead of keeping him alive in order to have the pleasure of twisting the knife. It all could have turned out so differently, if just one thing had gone a little wrong. But you couldn't think about that, or you'd go fucking crazy. More crazy.

Not that almost dying was anything new. No, it's old news for all of them. That's why they deserve respect, not a stupid joke like this. Reno's smile fades, and then she's grave, for once.

She does enjoy being the one to make the bombs sometimes, even though the ones Rude makes are flashier, more elaborate and more fun. Hers do get the job done, especially when the job is something as straightforward as this. As Rude salutes her, she lights the wick and throws the bottle, quick and sure, like someone who's done it before, which is exactly what she is. The bottle smashes, sweet and sharp, and then the fire bursts, brilliantly bright and just what it takes to make her smile again as she watches it burn, the light reflected from her eyes.

Part of her wishes they could burn the whole garden down, but she's well aware that that urge is a little too crazy. She's seen that cautionary tale play out.

She reaches for the bottle she gave Rude, even though she has more booze and they don't need to share. "Gimme a swig."