(Untitled)

[toxic_perfume]

It's late evening in Costa del Sol. The air's cooler, especially with the breeze off the water; the sky is clear cobalt darkening to midnight blue, stars flickering in one by one; and the little town is a jewelbox of colored lights. Cavilo's dressed to the nines: black jumpsuit shot through with gold, high-heeled synthasuede boots, a silk scarf

Comments

[sleazeoverstyle]

"Fuck if I know." Inside he's wondering where on his body she sees a sign that reads Friendly Neighborhood Tour Guide, but he keeps that shit to himself: it ain't polite and she's been nothin' but decent to him this whole time. Even though she tried to ditch him -- maybe -- back at the beach, he figures what the fuck. They're both grownups. They can do whatever they want

[toxic_perfume]

It really does. She's grinning; Reno really isn't as hard as he comes off.

"How about the beach and then the bar?" Her hand slides up his arm. "And then back to the room?"

[sleazeoverstyle]

Yeah, he could do that.

In all the times he's been here, he's never been here with anyone like her. He guesses they could make the argument that there ain't no one else like Lara and it'd be true, but no one else is like him either. The beauty of people is they're all unique and that's cool: keeps a guy on his toes and makes life friggin' interesting. But he nods and offers her his arm as if he's an actual gentleman, gives a modest little laugh and steps out into the street. There's plenty of tourists hangin' around, spilling out of the bars into the streets. Women in skinny strapped dresses and men in tropical shirts over dress pants and what the fuck, it's Costa del Sol. He figures his look counts no matter where he is 'cause it engenders automatic respect. Fuck if anyone calls him sir in his everyday life in Midgar, but he'll take it wherever he is

[toxic_perfume]

"Mmhm," she agrees, leaning just a little on his arm -- it's not a pose she's fond of, with its implications of dependence, but one Reno seems susceptible to. Not a fainting-flower act, the sort who gives the impression she can't get through dinner without the help of the gods and the nearest male; he'd have no patience for that, and she'd never have the stomach to keep it up for longer than a few minutes. No, he's attracted to competence -- and like most men, he likes his competent women to be a little dependent on him.

Reno's not as hard as he comes off. Cavilo's harder.

She looks up at him under her eyelashes, and smiles. "You?"