A time to heal.

[te-dirige.livejournal.com]

Characters: The Turks
Progress: Ongoing
Summary: Tseng needs to talk to his men one on one- and vice versa.
Location: Treno
Date: January, 1804
Warnings: Angst, most likely. Snark. Reno's involved, so swearing. Tseng is probably kicking their emo up around their ears.



Turks were made to withstand a lot of things, Tseng knew. It was really a shame no one had thought to prepare them for this.
'This' being the catch-all he was forced to use when he attempted to reconcile that he and his men had been transported here, with Rufus, to another world where others from yet other worlds had also arrived - and not only people, but whole cities and landmarks as well. In addition, there wasn't any sort of timeframe being employed by their mysterious force of arrival - unless one wanted to count 'any time within a decade' as a timeframe. There was no materia, though magic seemed to be still in supply to some. Old friends - no, allies were here along with enemies - and even more threats lurked around virtually every corner. There were no answers that could be given, only more questions to be found.
And ShinRa had little to no power here - low funds, no base of operations, and little respect. Even so, Turks had been taught to work and thrive in almost any situation....

But they'd failed to even consider something like this.

Tseng was still proud of his men, that they'd done so well on so little as it was. The issues now were more... emotional. More based on poor choices made in heated moments, and the repercussions that held. He'd given Reno and Rude time to settle things between each other but they'd made little progress - and the sort of applied distance couldn't be afforded, here and now especially. Thankfully, Tseng had more than a little experience in both this situation - and in helping the pair remove their heads from their collective asses when necessary. This was why he'd waited until they'd separated (not a difficult task at the Inn, surprisingly) and sought them out for a private conversation.

Comments

[piercedgloves.livejournal.com]

Even if the two of them hadn't been fighting, Reno would likely have been asked to leave their room anyway. Rude had been taken off-guard by creatures that he stood no chance at defeating alone twice now (the stone statue would have just kept spitting copies out at him if Elena hadn't been there with a Soft). He had had to make a rush-job of a bomb in an abandoned house the time before that, because there was no way he could punch a Midgar Zolom accompanied by Marlboros and Tonberries into submission. Rude was therefore in the room, doing one of the things he did best: making explosives.

Various items, both from shops and defeated monsters, were strewn across the table. Rude's sunglasses were to the side, as were his gloves. His fingers had been healed enough for him to handle this, though he wouldn't be punching anything unless he really had to. The door was unlocked, but the 'Do Not Disturb' sign was on it -- though as Turks, and especially Tseng as his boss, Rude was fairly certain that no one would pay any attention to it but the workers at the inn.

[te-dirige.livejournal.com]

Rude was a very different man than Reno - and was therefore someone to handle equally differently. Tseng knew that the Turk was working on explosives, and consideing their need - allowed him as much time to himself as possible. Still, it was past due that the issue was handled - and so Tseng knocked lightly on the door to announce his intent, and stepped inside.

A plate of cold meat and fresh bread appeared at Rude's elbow on the table, followed by a bottle of the inn's beer. Tseng took a seat on the opposite side of the desk, and looked over Rude's work with an appraising eye.
"These look excellent." Said praise was followed by a pointed look at the food. "You haven't paused all day."

[piercedgloves.livejournal.com]

Flickering his gaze away from the bomb at his side to see who it was coming through the door, Rude gave Tseng a slight nod before going back to his bomb. This one was experimental, equipped with a Marlboro tentacle so that any caught within the blast radius would have to deal with poison as well as any injuries they sustained. Without materia, they would have to be more creative; luckily, Rude's bombs had always been his creative outlet.

"There are some experimental models, hopefully with Poison, Blind, and Silence as after-effects of the explosion. I think I'll ask Elena for help on these; she has a knack for it, and may have some materials that I don't." Recognizing the look for what it was, Rude finished up the bomb and set it aside before heading to the bathroom to wash his hands up. He was in no hurry to accidentally poison himself, or to infect his hands thanks to any possible breaks in the skin.

Returning to the table, Rude took the plate with a grateful nod toward Tseng. He thought about putting his sunglasses back on, but that would almost be rude... and it wasn't as though Tseng wouldn't be able to read him fairly well, even with his eyes hidden.

[te-dirige.livejournal.com]

Tseng nodded in return, settling into the chair and doing his best to relax. "They sound useful. Once you have a working build, see about making varying powers of them. We'll need devices that will work in smaller settings - especially within the city." Rude was the best at explosives, and if anyone could figure out how to make their own tech work with what this new world brought, it was he. Tseng knew he'd keep working until he finsihed, however - no matter how long that took. Hence why he'd interrupted.
It was good to see Rude take the needed break, and Tseng let the silence between them stay comfortable for a while longer, waiting for the other to actually eat some portion of what was brought before he broached the main reason of his visit - "Have you considered what you intend to do in regards to your partner?"

[piercedgloves.livejournal.com]

The bombs weren't only useful for their usual purpose in a world where they had limited abilities. Without a project, a focus, Rude probably would have snapped harder than he had. Making explosives was a form of meditation -- one so intense that he, as Tseng knew well, often forgot about things like eating. He would stop when his focus was significantly impaired, because then the bombs weren't up to the correct standard, and if there was one thing Rude hated, it was sloppy explosives.

Finishing the food he was chewing, Rude took a drink of the beer as he thought over his answer. The problem wasn't really with Reno. The problem was with himself. He knew this, intellectually, but it would be work. "Forgive him, if he can see the problem with what he did." The slight squeeze on his arm had been a start, but Rude needed to hear him say it, because... well, it was Reno, and he didn't just throw the words "I'm sorry" around. He would mean it, if he said it.