Quality Man Time . Destiny Islands . Open & Complete

[recalcitrantly]

Since the blonde kid had nicely invited them both into his home, Reno started, well, making himself quite at home. In the place of Tidus, Reno removed himself from the seat and walked over to where the plated had been left out. The redhead snatched one of the plates that Tidus had left, and gestured to Quistis with it, "Guess it's just you and me

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[recalcitrantly]

Most people from way back when would describe Reno as a pretty laid back jackass-and that wasn’t too far off. A lot of the time, things wouldn’t really get to him to the point of being angry. Things that pissed off that of any normal person, he took in such stride. So much so that it usually made other people angry on how much he was relaxed; which seemed to be the case here. Cigarettes were not one of those things that he took lightly. Especially not a Cigarette wasted. That was probably obvious enough as he visibly tensed up and sucked a great amount of air through his teethe, causing that nice hissing effect.

This was a nice gentle reminder that he had nothing against hitting woman.

What the hell was her problem? The redhead hadn’t said boo to her after she snapped and he was getting the verbal backhand for saying nothing. A lecture, even, What the fuck. A lecture. Lecture. Nothing pissed him off more than authority figures that ordered him around without a paycheck or pink-slip. That just didn’t fly. “Why don’t you calm down.” He suggested, trying to be cool about the matter. “You think smokes are so bad, why don’t you take a look at yourself. All high-strung on stress.”At least nicotine was relaxing.

Instead of being so righteous about being anti-smoke, maybe she could consider the opposite side of the spectrum. “Since we’re so interested on things that are bad for us, How about we take a look at your bad little habit, huh?” Since for some reason or another this dame was stressed beyond all logic or reason, maybe she desired a lecture all the same about that. Oh hell. Why not? He wasn’t scoring any points with silence. “Stress activates a bunch of things in your brain, the hypothalamus, which in turn triggers the pituitary gland and sympathetic division of the nervous system; and the pituitary gland, which releases adrenocorticotropic hormone.” He pointed a thumb in the air righteously, “Your heart rate goes way up along with your blood pressure when you throw these little bitch fits; it can be anywhere from seventy beats per minute to two hundred and twenty beats per minute. You take in a lot more oxygen, but it wears you out a hell of a lot more because of low blood sugar afterward. It also decreases intestinal activity, causing a bunch of bad things to happen to your stomach, like Ulcers. Isn’t that fun.”

All this textbook speak was probably going to just piss him off later in the fact he’d actually paid attention in those classes way back when during training. Those teachers weren’t joking when they said he could use this information one day. With the same sardonic tone, Reno continued his case, “It causes a hell of a lot of problems among diabetics, worsens the joint pain in those with arthritis, and does a significant amount of metal shit to everyone else like anxiety, which obviously you have issues with,” He made a note to point accordingly, “and depression. Also makes you more prone to illness and infection because it weakens your immune system. Ain’t that nice? I bet that would be a lot nicer way to live instead of smoking a little bit here and there. All crazy, depressed, stressed and with your ulcers and arthritis.”

Clearing his throat, the Turk waves his hand in the air to pretty much signify that he was finished. Point proven, not justified. The fact of the matter was that Reno was not five and could very well kill himself through any method he saw fit without anyone smacking his wrist about it. Cigs topped the list of ways to go moreso than stressed-induced things. “So don’t give me that bullshit on I’m killing myself through smokes. We all pretty much pick our poison on ways to do ourselves in, even a pretty thing like you. 'Cept your way is a lot more painful. I’d take black lung any day rather than being a high-strung bitch.” Without hesitation another cigarette was slipped out of his jacket, lit, and put in the place of it’s former. “Frankly, you could find the habit of smoking kinda helpful. So save you’re lectures, doll, I’m not interested. Now calm it down before you get a wrinkle on that pretty face of yours.”

[chasingpeace]

What was that cliché? Something about 'the straw that broke the camel's back?' Yeah, that one. Let's tweak it a little bit for this situation, shall we? Replace 'straw' with 'iron girder' and 'broke the camel's back' with 'crushed every vertebrae that existed in the camel's back," and we might be closer to what Quistis felt at that moment. Her nose twitched in the way that alerted her SeeD comrades to clear out, because Ms. Trepe was about to explode. Unfortunately, this guy didn't know as much.

And she did. A hand was raised and brought straight across Reno's cheek - hard - with a satisfying crack.

"Do you think I want to be like this? That I woke up one morning deciding that I was going to be an ice queen the rest of my life? No. Things happen, things you can't control. And those things change you, whether you like it or not. There is no choice."

Her voice grew louder as she continued, and the hand that had slapped Reno across the face was now a clenched fist at her side.

"It's hard to be happy and cheerful and stress free after you have watched your home being torn to pieces by the Heartless, completely helpless, when you're supposed to be the one that protects it. When all you can think about is how you failed everyone that trusted you. And the worries multiplies every day you can't find a single person you recognize from that home, let alone someone you might have cared about those years ago." Quistis could have stopped then, but she wasn't going to. Reno had opened up the dam, and everything that was being held back was rushing out in one big wave.

"The world isn't sunshine and rainbows, and some people know that first hand. And when that is shoved in your face, it's hard to forget about. It's not something you can put in a box and hide for a little while. It stays with you, becomes a part of you and who you are. It turns you into a 'high-strung bitch,' but like I said, I didn't choose to become the way I am.

"I'd love to be calm and relaxed for a little while - that's why I came here. But we all know how that one turned out, don't we? So excuse me if I'm a tad more frustrated and annoyed than what you'd like to deal with. Just think about how I have to deal with this every day. If anything, you should be thankful you can push everything to the side and be happy - I wish I could do that." That was the truth, wasn't it? Quistis just wanted to be happy like everyone else, and forget the disappointment that seemed to fill her life nowadays, if even just for a moment. But that wasn't going to happen on Destiny Islands. One resigned sigh later, she finished her tirade.

"And I'll be sure to think of you with your oxygen tank and leather skin, sitting in a wheelchair dying a slow death of lung cancer when I'm in the mental institute nursing my ulcers and arthritis. They can treat those things - cancer kills you. So if you want to smoke, fine." She waved a hand in air, almost as if to say she had given up. "Just go outside. I don't want to complicate my ulcers with esophagus problems."

Silence now filled the room, incredibly loud after the heated exchange that just took place. The only sounds were their breathing and the pot's rolling boil. "I think the water is ready," Quistis said, as calmly as possible, opening the package of noodles they decided on for dinner.

[recalcitrantly]

Oooh, a smack. It probably imprinted a nice hand-shaped red mark on the side of his face, which would go away soon enough. For some reason, he had the sudden urge to just start laughing on the spot. It wasn’t like being slapped was funny or anything like that, but it had been a while since a lady outright slapped him for no reason. Nothing more than a tiny little ding on the mass that was his ego. [He took that slap as a sign of victory that he’d successfully made a point worth getting angry over. It happened in a lifetime.] Instead, Reno passed the urge off, clearing his throat in the form of a cough.

Since Poppet seemed so vigorous about laying her personal history on him, Reno stood and heard out all of her case; all the reasons she gave for her ‘having’ to be the way she was. Truthfully putting any cigarette out on his own flesh would have been more pleasant. The redhead let out an annoyed groan, “All aboard the pity train because your life sucks so much.” Reno tugged the stereotypical non-existing train whistle in the air and made a small “whoo-whoo” noise just for the effect of sarcasm; Not that any more sarcasm was needed at the moment.

“Guess what? We all lost things in the past. We’re all pretty much pissed off at the world...s.. At the moment.” Talking was getting rather difficult so the cig was just removed for the moment. All this over him and his little bad habit. A bold look was tossed in the direction of the blonde, a motion of his hand following up and down, “There are a lot of people worse off than you-deformed, dead, screwed the hell up mentally or whatever. You go on, you live, and you hope that the next day your number doesn’t come up. I’m not gonna tell you to be happy or cheer the hell up-If you wanna be pissed at everything, then be pissed at everything. Just don’t you think about taking it out on me and have me roll the hell over.” One free slap was all she got as fair warning, for the drink, and that was a good deal.

But he was not getting into that live and love life bullshit. This discussion was all but over. Deathstick promptly placed, the invitation that she offered to the go outside wasn’t refused. “To show what a good sport I am I’ll take this,” He motioned to the small stick--the object of the semi-heated argument, “outside.” Thus it was.

If Poppet knew him at all, she’d know he wasn’t that big of a smoker [going through this entire pack didn’t sound too far fetched at the moment...] Buuut.. If Ms. Trepe knew him at all, she’d also know that he’d just succeeded in effectively manipulating his way out of cooking.

That was pretty much all he cared about.

Score one for the Turk.