[ All in all, this night's been a pretty solid success. I mean, to be sure, there's been bloodshed, some sloppy behavior, and an excess of scuzzy beer and stanky cheese passed around, but in Reno's mind, that's how you know it was a great party. That, and he's gotten some pretty good gossip, info, and profiles for the people that're here and... evidently not here, so that's a mission complete as far as he's concerned.
But mission complete doesn't mean the fun has to stop. On the contrary, now the mood is starting to shift, and it's becoming the part of a good night out that Reno looks forward to the most: the part where whoever's left still alive in there is out to fuck around and find out. Could've gone to bed, could've tapped out, but they're sticking around for something, impressionable and easy. You want a fight? Cool. Hookup? No problem. Maybe just some new friends? Whatever. Even if he's just a little bit wobbly himself, Reno lingers, drifting to place in some state of mania and desperation. Great party. None of his people are here. How's he supposed to sleep?
Tankard in hand, he staggers from the bar. Too restless to sit or wait for someone else to talk to him first, so he searches out a target, and—boy what a target he finds. Almost immediately, that anxious buzzing in his nerves vanishes at the sight of Cloud sitting at that table. To say they're friends is, uh, kiiind of a stretch, but like, it's fine! They're tight. Cloud knows what's up. And he's just the person to talk to after what happened back home, plus a night of wanton drinking and schmoozing.
Reno practically collapses into the seat right next to him, the delight (and relief) plain on his face. His drink sloshes a little onto the table, but he pulls it back toward him before it can wind up all over everywhere. ]
Cloud! There you are, buddy! Just the guy I was hoping to see. You been here all night? Wh— mm— [ pause for messy beer sip, then a laugh ] —what're you dressed as? That old getup again, man? Thought you were past all that.
[ Talking a mile a minute, he interrupts himself. ]
—Hey! Lemme buy you a drink. ...Another one. That one's basically almost done.
last man sitting by his lonesome looking so botherable
But mission complete doesn't mean the fun has to stop. On the contrary, now the mood is starting to shift, and it's becoming the part of a good night out that Reno looks forward to the most: the part where whoever's left still alive in there is out to fuck around and find out. Could've gone to bed, could've tapped out, but they're sticking around for something, impressionable and easy. You want a fight? Cool. Hookup? No problem. Maybe just some new friends? Whatever. Even if he's just a little bit wobbly himself, Reno lingers, drifting to place in some state of mania and desperation. Great party. None of his people are here. How's he supposed to sleep?
Tankard in hand, he staggers from the bar. Too restless to sit or wait for someone else to talk to him first, so he searches out a target, and—boy what a target he finds. Almost immediately, that anxious buzzing in his nerves vanishes at the sight of Cloud sitting at that table. To say they're friends is, uh, kiiind of a stretch, but like, it's fine! They're tight. Cloud knows what's up. And he's just the person to talk to after what happened back home, plus a night of wanton drinking and schmoozing.
Reno practically collapses into the seat right next to him, the delight (and relief) plain on his face. His drink sloshes a little onto the table, but he pulls it back toward him before it can wind up all over everywhere. ]
Cloud! There you are, buddy! Just the guy I was hoping to see. You been here all night? Wh— mm— [ pause for messy beer sip, then a laugh ] —what're you dressed as? That old getup again, man? Thought you were past all that.
[ Talking a mile a minute, he interrupts himself. ]
—Hey! Lemme buy you a drink. ...Another one. That one's basically almost done.