Goin' Oldschool
Date: Late Winter, 1990
Summary: This place needs a pick-me-up, so I figured hey, why not go for the classic break room scene, like the one we kicked off the whole rp with? The plot so far: Reno is bored. Reno gets coffee. Reno occupies couch. ...okay, GO!
Rating: PG-13 for language (this is Reno we're talking about)
Status: Open! Come one, come all! This is how the best relationships start. :D
Reno was bored. Simple as that. After getting back from Nibelheim, there hadn’t been anything to do besides sit around the office and stare blankly at paperwork and reports he had about negative seven intention of working on like, ever. Paperwork was for nerds and tight-asses. And Rude. Because Rude could spell. And not that Reno couldn’t have spelled most words if he’d really wanted to, but in general he preferred to reserve things like proper spelling for emergencies only, like that one time in Junon, when that one mob that isn’t associated with ShinRa had kidnapped him because he’d been dressed up like Rufus for a costume party (remember kids: blonde wigs will only attract trouble!), and he’d had to write his own ransom letter. In cursive. With a fountain pen.
Yeah, that hadn’t gone over so well. He did make a couple new poker buddies, though, once the whole business about him not actually being a prissy daddy’s boy had been cleared up.
But back to the point: there was definitely a time and a place for things like correct spelling, and Reno personally preferred to preserve his supply of proper spelling and grammar usage for those times he really, really needed it. As far as boring old office work went, well, that’s what secretaries were for. And not that he technically had a secretary of his own, but everyone knew there were still hoards of clerks and other such underlings just waiting around the building to be exploited. Honestly, only serious masochists would ever apply for a clerical position at ShinRa, as far as Reno could tell. Might as well give the poor suckers a little something to fill their pathetic, dull lives while he went about spreading the awesome. No point in depriving the masses of the world’s hottest redhead for fuckin’ paperwork, y’know?
Currently, said Spreader of Awesome was making his way towards his favorite spot in the building: the general staff lounge on floor 68. Now the Turk floor had its own little coffee station, but since the break rooms they had every few floors had a couches, Reno preferred to park himself there (not to mention the fact that plenty of the aforementioned masochistic secretaries came in and out all the time, ready and eager for him to push his non-dirty work off on).
He pushed the door open, making a beeline for the shiny, expensive, red coffee maker unique to this particular break room. He’d acquired it himself, a few months back, during one of the most dangerous, suspenseful missions he’d ever embarked on in his entire life. Rufus apparently had yet to notice where his precious coffee maker was currently residing. Genius: that’s what it’s called, kids. Pure genius.
Grabbing one of the mugs he knew Tseng preferred, he poured himself a cup of the deliciously bitter lifeblood known as coffee. Then he promptly commandeered the length of the lumpy couch, stretching his legs out and closing his eyes as he inhaled the aroma of the steaming beverage, savoring the first sip like a parched refugee who’d been lost in the desert for days.
Man, life was good.
((Sorry for any suckage on my part, it's six a.m. and I am sick, but I wanted to get some more activity going. ♥))
Summary: This place needs a pick-me-up, so I figured hey, why not go for the classic break room scene, like the one we kicked off the whole rp with? The plot so far: Reno is bored. Reno gets coffee. Reno occupies couch. ...okay, GO!
Rating: PG-13 for language (this is Reno we're talking about)
Status: Open! Come one, come all! This is how the best relationships start. :D
Reno was bored. Simple as that. After getting back from Nibelheim, there hadn’t been anything to do besides sit around the office and stare blankly at paperwork and reports he had about negative seven intention of working on like, ever. Paperwork was for nerds and tight-asses. And Rude. Because Rude could spell. And not that Reno couldn’t have spelled most words if he’d really wanted to, but in general he preferred to reserve things like proper spelling for emergencies only, like that one time in Junon, when that one mob that isn’t associated with ShinRa had kidnapped him because he’d been dressed up like Rufus for a costume party (remember kids: blonde wigs will only attract trouble!), and he’d had to write his own ransom letter. In cursive. With a fountain pen.
Yeah, that hadn’t gone over so well. He did make a couple new poker buddies, though, once the whole business about him not actually being a prissy daddy’s boy had been cleared up.
But back to the point: there was definitely a time and a place for things like correct spelling, and Reno personally preferred to preserve his supply of proper spelling and grammar usage for those times he really, really needed it. As far as boring old office work went, well, that’s what secretaries were for. And not that he technically had a secretary of his own, but everyone knew there were still hoards of clerks and other such underlings just waiting around the building to be exploited. Honestly, only serious masochists would ever apply for a clerical position at ShinRa, as far as Reno could tell. Might as well give the poor suckers a little something to fill their pathetic, dull lives while he went about spreading the awesome. No point in depriving the masses of the world’s hottest redhead for fuckin’ paperwork, y’know?
Currently, said Spreader of Awesome was making his way towards his favorite spot in the building: the general staff lounge on floor 68. Now the Turk floor had its own little coffee station, but since the break rooms they had every few floors had a couches, Reno preferred to park himself there (not to mention the fact that plenty of the aforementioned masochistic secretaries came in and out all the time, ready and eager for him to push his non-dirty work off on).
He pushed the door open, making a beeline for the shiny, expensive, red coffee maker unique to this particular break room. He’d acquired it himself, a few months back, during one of the most dangerous, suspenseful missions he’d ever embarked on in his entire life. Rufus apparently had yet to notice where his precious coffee maker was currently residing. Genius: that’s what it’s called, kids. Pure genius.
Grabbing one of the mugs he knew Tseng preferred, he poured himself a cup of the deliciously bitter lifeblood known as coffee. Then he promptly commandeered the length of the lumpy couch, stretching his legs out and closing his eyes as he inhaled the aroma of the steaming beverage, savoring the first sip like a parched refugee who’d been lost in the desert for days.
Man, life was good.
((Sorry for any suckage on my part, it's six a.m. and I am sick, but I wanted to get some more activity going. ♥))