The Salle, Tuesday Afternoon

[withoutverona]

Calling what Romeo did with his unloaded metal rod as he waited for Reno "training" would be an insult to the idea of training. He was simply beating on a practice dummy with a great deal of energy and not much finesse.

It was especially satisfying because he had named the dummy Hannibal and was calling it every name he could think of in every

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[raspberryturk]

It was a grinning, fully clothed Reno who sauntered his way into the salle today, his baton in its usual resting place on his shoulder.

He was in a good mood, yes.

In his hand, he was holding a few shiny green marbles. Which, he mused as he stood back for a minute to watch his buddy mangle the dummy, he was going to have to pocket for a moment just to be sure Romeo wasn't going to grab them and run off to destroy France or something.

He watched for a few more moments, and then he cleared his throat.

[withoutverona]

Romeo got in one last good blow before he looked up, eyes still a little wild. "Reno," he greeted, lowering the rod to his side. "This is a good day for us to have a session. Are those the materia?"

He would only destroy part of France, really.

[raspberryturk]

"Yeah, man, these are the Materia. Blizzaga and the extras you asked for, yo." He idly tossed them into the air, catching them again with the same soft 'click' sounds you'd expect from marbles. "You need help figurin' out how to get those into the sockets? Or should we, uh..."

He glanced at the dummy. Almost felt sorry for it. Except that it was a dummy, and all.

"Well, I was gonna suggest we warm up. But I think maybe I better start by gettin' you to do a few swings you didn't just pull outta your ass."

[withoutverona]

"Were they that bad?" Romeo asked. "I wasn't really being careful with my form. I had something else on my mind."

He twirled the baton in his hand thoughtfully. "If it came down to a fight between Hannibal and myself, unarmed, who do you think would win?"

See Romeo. See Romeo look for ego-stroking.