[INCOMPLETE] Rude, Elena, Reno
Who: Rude, Elena, and possibly Reno?
When: Shortly after all this.
Where: Elena and Reno's place.
Rating: PG-13, subject to change.
Warnings: Inevitable language, possible Rude!angst.
Summary: Rude barely knows what the hell is going on. He thinks chilling with Reno and Elena will help.
Rude rubbed rough fingers against his palm. His fists were his weapons, so it was little wonder that his gloves had been taken. Thankfully, it wouldn't be hard to replace something so simple. His other hand gripped the neck of a sizable bottle of rum that he hadn't ever planned to polish off himself. It had been a gift, or so it seemed; better to make it matter than to glug it all down in one go. Gods knew he felt like it, though.
As he walked, he took constant note of just how much this place resembled Midgar, from the plate overhead to the grime to its people. It could have been Midgar, a century or so post-mortem, he thought. He stopped before a building and referred back to his directions, scribbled on a rock with a makeshift pencil made of charred debris. Elena was here. And Reno...
Reno, who either was dead or wasn't. But if he was, it was unusual of him not to have said anything yet. He'd find out soon: about Reno, about the guy who killed him and why he wasn't dead already, and hopefully everything else.
When: Shortly after all this.
Where: Elena and Reno's place.
Rating: PG-13, subject to change.
Warnings: Inevitable language, possible Rude!angst.
Summary: Rude barely knows what the hell is going on. He thinks chilling with Reno and Elena will help.
Rude rubbed rough fingers against his palm. His fists were his weapons, so it was little wonder that his gloves had been taken. Thankfully, it wouldn't be hard to replace something so simple. His other hand gripped the neck of a sizable bottle of rum that he hadn't ever planned to polish off himself. It had been a gift, or so it seemed; better to make it matter than to glug it all down in one go. Gods knew he felt like it, though.
As he walked, he took constant note of just how much this place resembled Midgar, from the plate overhead to the grime to its people. It could have been Midgar, a century or so post-mortem, he thought. He stopped before a building and referred back to his directions, scribbled on a rock with a makeshift pencil made of charred debris. Elena was here. And Reno...
Reno, who either was dead or wasn't. But if he was, it was unusual of him not to have said anything yet. He'd find out soon: about Reno, about the guy who killed him and why he wasn't dead already, and hopefully everything else.