[ he'd spend these last couple of months wondering what the hell to do with himself—no Turks, no Rufus, no nothing—and just like that, he has his answer. while he typically wears some dressed-down version of his usual attire from home, casual outings to his favorite hangouts for occasions that are decidedly less business oriented often see him in some stupid shirt, and that's how he spots his beloved boss: smoking indoors as you do in a casino, suspecting nothing, in some stupid shirt. Reno waylays Rufus in the hall the second he lays eyes on him (well, maybe the fifth second, because the other four are for surprise and a couple other emotions he wouldn't want to acknowledge even if this weren't urgent).
those first few minutes are crucial information-gathering opportunities, and by the time Reno's encouraged Rufus to come up to his suite so they can talk in at least relative privacy, he's already come to suspect there might be, how u say, timeline fuckery afoot once again. that's something he'll have to address later, though, because they don't make it up to his suite. they make it about halfway before the elevator grinds to a halt, and Reno scoffs under his breath, makes some remark about how he just came down just fine a minute ago which is half drowned out by accusations of sins, sinners, sinning, and the like.
he meets Rufus's glance then, his impatient sneer melting away into a smirk of his own. right then, boy is he ever happy about the turn of events that brought Rufus here, no matter how disadvantageous their respective positions might be. it's the shared glance of two people with a storied history and so many skeletons in the closet between them that there's barely space for anything else. if they were totally alone, they—well, they'd never play such a stupid game to begin with, but it's Reno's position that he knows all of Rufus's and Rufus knows most of his, so it'd be easy enough to get through it unscathed. but a third party listening in?
they'll have to play it smart. ]
It's always some shit with the place, I'm tellin' ya... should've taken the stairs.
[ his grin widens, devil-may-care as if deliberately in spite of their predicament, and pulls his pack of smokes from his pants pocket. maybe they can smoke the stupid painting out. ]
No prize for winning, even? Fuck this game. [ sticking the cig between his lips, he pats his other pockets for his lighter. ] 'Course, I wouldn't put it past them to find some way to make us play if we wait around too long, so there's that. Your call, boss.
B/judgy john with some editorializing bc we're here for the good shit
those first few minutes are crucial information-gathering opportunities, and by the time Reno's encouraged Rufus to come up to his suite so they can talk in at least relative privacy, he's already come to suspect there might be, how u say, timeline fuckery afoot once again. that's something he'll have to address later, though, because they don't make it up to his suite. they make it about halfway before the elevator grinds to a halt, and Reno scoffs under his breath, makes some remark about how he just came down just fine a minute ago which is half drowned out by accusations of sins, sinners, sinning, and the like.
he meets Rufus's glance then, his impatient sneer melting away into a smirk of his own. right then, boy is he ever happy about the turn of events that brought Rufus here, no matter how disadvantageous their respective positions might be. it's the shared glance of two people with a storied history and so many skeletons in the closet between them that there's barely space for anything else. if they were totally alone, they—well, they'd never play such a stupid game to begin with, but it's Reno's position that he knows all of Rufus's and Rufus knows most of his, so it'd be easy enough to get through it unscathed. but a third party listening in?
they'll have to play it smart. ]
It's always some shit with the place, I'm tellin' ya... should've taken the stairs.
[ his grin widens, devil-may-care as if deliberately in spite of their predicament, and pulls his pack of smokes from his pants pocket. maybe they can smoke the stupid painting out. ]
No prize for winning, even? Fuck this game. [ sticking the cig between his lips, he pats his other pockets for his lighter. ] 'Course, I wouldn't put it past them to find some way to make us play if we wait around too long, so there's that. Your call, boss.