Shin-Ra HQ | Sector 4
Who: Reno, Tseng
Status: Closed
When: 1:15 P.M.
Where: Shin-Ra HQ, Sector 4
What: Finished dealing with Scarlet, Reno heads upstairs to work, but ends up crashing instead.
The second Reno made it into his office, he went straight for his chair and damned near crumpled into it. He was alone. No witnesses. If there was ever a time to give into exhaustion that'd been threatening to consume him since yesterday morning, now was it. For a good thirty seconds or so, he didn't move. The chair was nice. Soft. And...soft.
Oh God, he felt drunk and he hadn't even had a drink. Well okay, so he had, technically, but a couple of shots of whiskey hardly counted. It was just...sleep. Or the lack thereof. He'd been averaging about two hours per night for the past couple weeks. Three if he was lucky.
Fuck, he really needed to get some proper sleep. Pulling late nights was fine when most of the time he was just analyzing intel from his desk, but with all the field work that was cropping up lately, he couldn't exactly afford to nod off in the middle of a job.
And where the hell was Rod? What in the name of God was that kid even doing? It was standard for a Turk to always pick up the phone. Always. It served as a precaution, to make sure that when you really were in deep shit and couldn't answer a call, people would know something was wrong instead of assuming you were just being you as usual. Hell, even Reno never deviated from this rule. His reckless tendencies meant that he needed safety nets like this one more often than not, a fact he was fully aware of.
Damn, he hoped Rod had just slept through the ring. Yeah, right. Slept through four calls in a row? Now, in the middle of the day? Maybe if it was earlier in the morning, but Elena had called when it was half past noon. Hangover or not, late night or not, Rod should've been awake enough to realize that someone was calling. Unless he'd accidentally switched the thing onto silent, but that was doubtful. None of them ever put their PHS on silent unless a job absolutely called for it; phones were one of their main forms of communication.
Fuck it. Whatever. Rosalind was supposed to head out and look for him later. If she was anything like Reno remembered, she'd do the job to absolute perfection. Until he got more information in, there was nothing he could do about it.
Sweeping the stack of files on his desk aside-he'd look over the intel on BioFuse when the tiny rows of text stopped blurring every time he tried to read them-he cleared enough of a space to rest his head on it.
Ah, sleep. Better than sex and whiskey combined.