What would a description of your *exact opposite* be like? Huh. Seems like the great question askers're losin' their touch; this one's pretty easy
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Rude had opened the cab door with his free hand, then unceremoniously pushed Reno's head down and shoved him into it. "If that was the point, I'd say mission accomplished, you fucking lunatic," he had said in his normal deadpan manner, climbing in after him and shutting the door. "5153 721st, three sectors over," he had told the cabdriver.
The cabdriver had glanced back at them, and his gaze had rested for a moment on the arguing, slurring, pale, under the weather, clearly drunk Reno. "If he throws up, mate, yer fookin' payin' fer the cleanin' bills," he had threatened in a foreign accent.
Rude had nodded wordlessly and the cab had moved out into traffic.
"Nonono, this's nowhere near thapoint yet," Reno had tried to tell him. "It needs like four more bars aaaan' a couple more fights aaaan' maybe a bit've somefin' eleeegal 'fore it's thapoint."
The lights and cars and shapes rushing past the window behind Rude had distracted Reno for a moment, and he had stared. "S'all blurrin' together like whoa, man."
Rude had had to resist the temptation to hit his head against the cab window at the other man's last comment. "You've had more than enough," he had said. "Your sisters are waiting for you at your apartment. You don't need to show up any worse than this."
Reno had immediately undergone a transformation; his face had whitened even further. His expression had suddenly lost its genial stupidity and had gained a sort of pained sharpness. "Why thfuck 'joo hafta go an' say somefin like that?" he'd demanded, eyes flashing out of nowhere. "I was doin just fine with-with forgettin."
"...Forgetting what?" Rude had asked quietly, recognizing the change. This had been the Reno that he had expected to find originally, when he had first set out to find him after hearing his sisters' words about getting drunk. It had sounded like he was torturing himself over something. This Reno had been angry, and sharp, and hurting.
Reno had shot him a dark glare and muttered something that sounded suspicously similar to, "Bite me." Then he had sunk down in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest and pointedly stared out his window.
When the taxi had pulled up in front of Reno's apartment building, Rude had stepped out to pay the driver, then come around to the other side of the car and opened the door to pull Reno out of the backseat.
Something had finally clicked in Reno's addled brain. "Waait a minute, wait. You said-you said my sisters are here?" he had asked.
Rude had paused for a moment, not quite sure of why it mattered, but then he had nodded as he forcibly extracted the shorter man from the backseat of the cab. "Yeah."
" 'M not goin' up there," Reno had said immediately, blinking and swaying on the sidewalk. "I told you, 'M not fuckedup 'nough yet. 'Si-'Sides, they'll be pissed off, man." He had laughed, the sound a bit higher-pitched and less in control than normal. "Really pissed off."
The cab had drove off behind them, leaving them alone on the darkened street; the sector that Reno lived in was fairly middle-class, and as such, went dead after 11:00 PM.
"A, yes, you are fucked up enough. B, you should have thought that your sisters would show up before you decided to go out to get drunk and be used as a punching bag. And C, how the hell are you going to stop me from bringing you up there?" Rude had replied pragmatically, grabbing the other man's arm quickly as his feet rebelliously went out from under him.
Some part of Reno's brain had been amused by the amount of words that Rude had just strung together, but most of it was just annoyed that the big man wouldn't leave him in peace. He had angrily shaken off the steadying hand--and immediately crumpled to the sidewalk, swearing.
"Just leave me alone, man!" The words had been far less slurred and more serious than any Reno had spoken so far that night. "I don't wanna see my sisters, I don't wanna go home; all I wanna do is get fuckedup 'nough that I feel numb! What the fuck d'you care, anyway?!"
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The cabdriver had glanced back at them, and his gaze had rested for a moment on the arguing, slurring, pale, under the weather, clearly drunk Reno. "If he throws up, mate, yer fookin' payin' fer the cleanin' bills," he had threatened in a foreign accent.
Rude had nodded wordlessly and the cab had moved out into traffic.
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The lights and cars and shapes rushing past the window behind Rude had distracted Reno for a moment, and he had stared. "S'all blurrin' together like whoa, man."
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Something had finally clicked in Reno's addled brain. "Waait a minute, wait. You said-you said my sisters are here?" he had asked.
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"A, yes, you are fucked up enough. B, you should have thought that your sisters would show up before you decided to go out to get drunk and be used as a punching bag. And C, how the hell are you going to stop me from bringing you up there?" Rude had replied pragmatically, grabbing the other man's arm quickly as his feet rebelliously went out from under him.
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