damned_institute | Day 28: Crossroader's Bar and Casino

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Day 28: Crossroader's Bar and Casino

[ from here. reserved for Reno. ]

White sneakers gleaming in contrast to the dusty floorboards, Dean approached the bar at a snail's pace, hopelessly immersed in his surroundings. It was a taste of something close to home. He was in his element.

And he loved it.

His face seemed to ache the instant he smiled his first genuine smile of the day. Previous shakiness in his bearing abandoned, he swiveled on a chair to allow his restless eyes the chance to roam the features of the tavern that really weren't as captivating as the hunter found them. His wry expression faded as he glanced disapprovingly at himself. These clothes made him look like some overgrown kid who'd taken a wrong turn on his way to the Nerd Convention.

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He clicked his tongue, fingers drumming the bar.

"Well... y'know." He half-shrugged, slapping his palm down. "Can't get booze for free. Actually," he feigned a thoughtful expression, a smirk emerging as he gave a mock tilt of the head. "Didn't you say you owed me one?" Aah, but a hunter had to keep his wits about him. Couldn't lose sight of his goals.

Reno snorted, amused. "I did, yeah? You're gonna have to collect later. If I were back home, I could score you as much free booze as you want. Don't think I can do that here."

This sucked mildly. He could really use a shot of something hard. He could use a smoke, too. Actually, he could use a hell of a lot of things.

He shifted his gaze over to the old bartender before giving Dean a wry, sidelong glance.

"So what're the chances he's got a daughter or younger sister or something around we can charm into handing us a free drink?"

Mathers stood behind the bar, eying the two customers with mild interest mixed with his usual gruff attitude. He'd never seen these men before, so either they were new in town or they were part of that bus crowd from Landel's up the way. Mathers didn't particularly care one way or the other if they were crazies or not, but he watched them to be sure they weren't going to start any trouble. Making a point to stand next to the sign warning against rowdy behavior, he polished a few glasses with a rag while he waited.

[Kaze ]

"Mm." Dean's face melted into a crooked smile. Reno was a man after himself.

He studied the bartender, nodding and raising a hand in greeting. The guy was probably too busy to chat with a pair of mental patients, though, so the hunter ruled out the idea of friendly conversation, instead resting his head in one hand and returning attention to the redhead next to him.

"So you 'n Elena lived in the same town, right?" He said simply, idly scratching at his cheek. "Just, you mentioned home," he felt it was necessary to add, suddenly realising how random the question seemed.

Reno gave an absent nod. "Yeah. Well, more of a city, actually. Or was. It's kinda demolished right now."

To put it mildly. The WRO had propped up a bunch of buildings, but getting anywhere was still a bit of a mess with the roads all screwed up. Which was why Reno either walked or decided to screw it and just take the chopper half the time. When he could sneak it under Tseng's radar, anyway.

The first thing that sprung to mind was the Sector Seven incident he'd learned about, and... well, this wasn't a piece of news that did wonders for Dean's confidence in the Turk. He had the impression that any type of disaster in Reno's world - as Elena called it - was categorised as either 'natural' or 'Shin-Ra'. An entire city under repairs? Kind of drew his thoughts towards the Shin-Ra possibility.

A moment passed as he deliberated a straight reply. The glance he shot at the other man suggested hesitancy, but he hurriedly cleared his throat when he sensed his time was up.

"Uh, why not move or somethin'?" He asked lamely. "Must've been hard, y'know. Gettin' around."

"Move?" Reno frowned slightly in thought. To be honest, the notion had never quite occurred to him. At least, not really. Midgar might've been blown all to hell, but it was where he'd always lived.

"Guess we could've, but we would've had to rebuild like we are now, anyway. City's kinda the planet's center of operation. Everything that's anything was there." He drummed his fingers idly and shrugged. "I mean, people did sort of relocate to the outskirts of the city at first, but we're reconstructing inwards. Or something. I dunno. There's another company taking care of that. Shin-Ra just gives it the funding 'cause...y'know. Four employees don't do much in terms of manpower."

Which was just fine with him. He had enough on his hands rebuilding the company by itself. Let someone else take care of the city.

Dean wasn't certain just where in Reno's explanation he started to lose interest, but he knew that having nothing to steal his attention was a ticket to his earlier bout of despair. Thinking about home was the last thing he felt like doing right now, too.

The man couldn't tell when, exactly, the Turk had stopped talking. He was too busy twirling a peanut over his palm, until it fell on the counter and rattled quietly.

Inspiration struck him. He could totally use these.

"... Kills, bein' hit by a peanut." He held the nut between two fingers and granted it a lazy smile. "Gotta aim and fire with precision, if you want effect."

Reno cocked an eyebrow at the peanut. The bartender watching them already. Why couldn't he see this ending well?

Which was all the more reason to encourage it, really.

"Yeah?" he said. "That what you picked up from your job?"

He actually had no idea what Dean did, except that it apparently had something to do with the monsters that seemed to be lurking the institute. But given Dean evaded talking about his occupation as much as Reno did, he could make an educated guess as to the general category it fell into.

Reaching over on impulse, he flicked the peanut between Dean's fingers. A part of him almost hoped it would fly up and hit someone. The bartender perhaps.

Well, maybe not yet. He didn't want to get kicked out that fast. Kinda took the fun away from it.

He grimaced. The job was the second-last thing he wanted on his mind, existing as an immediate component of his history – something he honestly wasn't keen to dwell on, particularly since the leisurely banter here was starting to seize a bunch of jittery nerves, halting their frustrating motion to ensure a speedy recovery from the nightmare.

"Heh. No..." He replied tiredly, eyes remaining on Reno as he selected another peanut from the counter. "Doubt a peanut would do a world o' good in our position." The man flicked it into the air and caught it, smiling drily. "Could stun 'em, though," he muttered in addition, more to himself. "Might help if you needed a getaway." Raised eyebrows clearly indicated the conjecture was purely made from sarcasm.

Touchy subject, then. Fair enough. Reno had a number of them himself.

He peered almost thoughtfully at the peanut, as though it were a particular specimen of some sort. At this rate, the bartender probably really would feel they were crazy.

"Know what I think?" he said, the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I think we should test your peanut theory to see if it actually works. Y'know, before you start using it for real."

Dean snorted, giving a short laugh that warmed his formerly wry appearance; internally grateful his ally had changed the subject.

"'n how do you propose we do that, huh? 'less you're sayin' you wanna volunteer..." He straightened in his seat, an impish grin planted on his lips now. He allowed for a meaningful pause as he scrutinised the peanut in hand, lifting it in the space separating the two of them and balancing it on his fingers - like he were readying a catapult.

Before flipping it full force off his thumb (he had an evident knack for this activity), aimed to strike Reno's shoulder.

"Hey!" Reno managed to catch one half of the peanut as it bounced off his shoulder. The other half disappeared somewhere to the floor.

"See, now—" Letting it rest flat on his thumb, he flicked it right back at Dean with equal force. "—look what you just made me do. I don't usually misbehave like this, you know."

"Aw, c'mon, man. Was an accident and you know it." He chuckled, picking a third one from the counter. He didn't raise it, though, eyes averting to an open palm that he rested against one thigh. There was a small silence on his end. Smile weakening, a shiver was sent through his insides that didn't show on his exterior.

"Heh... y'know, me 'n my brother, we... we used to goof off like this all the time. When we were kids, anyway." Hell, he and Sam both knew it happened in the current day; whenever they were too bored to throw the usual verbal slur. Or when the elder was fed up during those lengthy drives.

The man cleared his throat, moving his dull gaze to the bar.

"So, uh..." He tossed the peanut at Reno with little effort, suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable. "You said you... had a partner." He fidgeted with the next peanut he'd chosen. "... Must be rough."

Sensing the slight shift in the air, Reno tilted his head in half-curiosity at Dean. There seemed to be a bit of a mild mood swing going on here with the man. The mention of his partner, though, threw him off guard for a second, and he blinked once. The peanut fell to the floor unnoticed.

"Kinda," he admitted after a moment. He smiled faintly. "I can't blame shit on him now."

People had always accused him of being unstable, but without Rude, Reno was starting to actually feel that way himself. And he missed Rude's presence overall. It just felt weird, after always having him there for all those years.

"So the guy that crashed into you the other night," he said, in an attempt to change the topic. "That your brother?"

Dean smirked. Seemed Reno and his partner were tight, probably maintaining a somewhat fraternal relationship. Guess he couldn't frown upon that. Turks weren't run-of-the-mill, ordinary citizens. They must've been pretty isolated in their lifestyle... something the hunter could relate to without a doubt.

Recollections of that night reminded him of that unpleasant feeling he'd experienced – of one's world being turned upside down. Come to think of it, that'd been the last time he'd spoken to Reno. Was he unconsciously afraid that talking to the guy could mean getting a lecture from Sam? He didn't know. But he was talking to him now. And evidently, those two (or... however long it'd been) days of separation hadn't triggered hard feelings.

He kind of missed those first few nights he'd spent with the Shin-Ra group. Less deep thinking involved.

"Yeah," he growled in response. The dour expression was swiftly replaced by a tough look as he folded his arms, revolving on the chair and leaning his back against the bar. Any sign of scrutiny from the redhead was met with a fairly blank stare. "Sort o' wish he'd never arrived, now I've seen he's OK." He couldn't believe he was admitting it, but it was the closest to the truth he'd stated aloud to anyone. Sure, he'd suffered those brief episodes of panic when he'd reflected on his brother, and the life-threatening situation he'd left behind...

A storm had begun inside him since their reunion, and it existed with the purpose of worsening over time. It had intensified Dean's personal belief that Landel's Institute was some kind of Hell.

Well, this was new. In truth, Reno had been expecting a simple yes or no to his question and maybe a dry remark somewhere. On the other hand, that did explain why Dean had been seeming a little off today.

For a moment, he really wasn't sure what to say to it all. If it'd been possible, he probably would've given Dean a shot of liquor or something in response. Which was unfortunately not an option right now. He didn't want to pry into what was clearly a personal issue, but obviously, he had to say something because silence would be awkward. And awkward sucked.

In the end, all he could offer was a simple, "Yeah?" in hopes that it would be open-ended enough for Dean to go forth in whatever direction he was looking for in this.

His features soured. Lethargically shifting himself in the chair again, he twisted to face Reno. He absent-mindedly pressed one side of a peanut and had it slide across the counter. Glowering at the bartender, he grumbled sulkily:

"Least they could do is hand a man his drink."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Reno could use a drink right about now, too. Actually, he could've used one a long time ago.

He rested his chin back into the palm of his hand, peering at the top of the counter. "We could distract him and pilfer it," he suggested dryly. "Or hypnotize him. You got any hypnosis skills along with those peanut-throwing ones of yours?"

It was true; they could always lift the stuff and bail. Create witnesses... and then maybe Bobby, whom he guessed was probably searching for them by now (having not heard word from any one of the three of them would've worried him, surely...), might skim through this town and trace them back to the Institute...

However, Dean knew that somehow that sort of plan wouldn't play out to their liking, let alone to their advantage. The staff seemed more unforgivably cunning than to leave an obvious loophole like that. They'd definitely showed him that hope in his situation was often short-lived.

So he abandoned the hare-brained idea.

As for the question of whether he had hypnotic abilities...

"Yyyup." He stared into the distance for a moment - not really thinking but giving off the impression he was in the midst of profound reflection - before setting his eyes on the Turk. "... But I ain't that desperate for a whiskey," he added with a hint of cheek, a wry smile forming.

This lack of booze was cruel, though. Especially with it so close by. For someone who essentially had at least one drink on a nightly basis, going near two weeks without was...stretching it. Reno was just lucky he had things trying to eat him and the people around him. It kept him from being bored and boredom was the main reason why he felt the need to drink in the first place.

He laughed shortly. "Of course not." There was a beat as he tapped his index finger once and then shot Dean a half-amused look.

"From plotting escape to plotting how to snag some booze," he remarked. "Seems like we're finally getting our priorities straight, yeah?"

"Damn right," he replied, fingering at a peanut and squeezing it in the palm of his hand. He gradually granted his friend a weary and satisfied grin. "... Pretty sweet shot I got in last time," he said in a tone that proposed a challenge, preparing the peanut for launch.

Man. Easy to tell when he was bored to tears.

"You were lucky. Now gimme a damn peanut," he said, leaning forward across the counter with as little movement of his body as possible. He managed to snag the edge of the peanut bowl with the tip of his fingers and drag it closer to his side.

"How much you wanna bet?" he asked as he fired the peanut without warning, aiming for just below Dean's chin.

About to fire his own, the one Reno had launched for his neck was automatically blocked by Dean's hand, except the peanut in motion collided perfectly with the one between his fingers and sent both shells flying to the floor.

The hunter raised an eyebrow at the redhead and let out a soft 'ha!'.

"Bring it on," he taunted, promptly organising a set of ammunition beside him.

Reno blinked, surprised at first by the outcome of his attack, before a snicker escaped him.

He grabbed a handful himself, pausing to munch on a few as the remainder rolled a little on the counter. He suspected they didn't have long before they got tossed out for this or something. Better make the most of the time they had.

"You don't know who you're dealing with," he shot back. "My talent with spit balls was unmatched back in high school."

Day 28: Crossroader's Bar and Casino

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