[ to be honest, the honeybee's not his favorite place in the world. there's a story for why, and not anybody who knows him now knows it. time was, a good long while ago—eighteen years ago, to be more or less exact—things were different in the slums. wall market was different. nowadays, it's cleaned up and run like a business, no matter how dirty and fucked up a business it may be. it's because they got solid heads on solid shoulders at the helm of the main attractions, mostly, but also just because times change and the shit people got a tolerance for isn't quite as forgiving as it used to be. but back then, it wasn't so neat and tidy. there was a lot of fucked up shit happening in midgar's undercity entertainment capital. fucked-upper than there is now. and reno ran way too close to it more than just once or twice.
considering the type of guy he is, you'd think that would be pretty fucking standard fare.
but also consider: eighteen years ago, he was ten.
yeah.
anyway, so the honeybee isn't reno's favorite place, but he's not about to let some shit like one (or two or fifteen) bad experiences run afoul an otherwise spectacular night. he and some of the guys get the idea to go out and make a time of it, slumming it up as some like to call it and aren't they just so clever? ha-ha. it starts out with just drinking and then it's bar hopping and then it's some guys wanted to pick up some tricks in the south end and hit the love hotel but some aren't ready to call it a night that early and what do you do when you're running horny on main but not ready to actually get your rocks off but go see the show? then one guy says they got this new star at the honeybee and that's how they wind up at reno's less than favorite happiest place on earth.
of course, now, nobody would recognize him, so it ain't no thing. they all get a few bees on their arm and hit a booth to kick back, enjoy the magic. that's the one! his buddy says and elbows reno while he's halfway to a sip of his mojito and nearly makes him slosh it all over himself. reno laughs like he doesn't want to stab the little umbrella decoration into his eye. but then he actually does look at the stage (finally), gets a load of what's on it, and that wipes the look right off his face.
god damn. what a looker.
hey, you like blonds, right? says pointy elbows on his right, snickering at him, and the guy on his other side leans around and says dude, we should buy her for him.
"her"? is all reno has to say to that.
yeah, man, you need to loosen up!
maybe he does need to loosen up.
he lets the chucklefucks at the table around him drunkstupid their way into pooling enough gil together to make a special request, and reno watches them with a crooked smirk on his face as they point him out to the proprietor of the evening. he can see the very moment the answer changes from wondering where the fuck they get off making a request like that to oh, god, a turk? and immediate acquiescence.
yeah... maybe some things don't change.
so why doesn't he just leave? well, because that gal— guy— whatever, they're a looker, and maybe he needs to loosen up. so while his stupid friends take their honeyboys and girls off for what's undoubtedly going to be a mediocre time, reno settles in the vip room sans accompaniment with what's probably his fifth mojito and waits. ]
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considering the type of guy he is, you'd think that would be pretty fucking standard fare.
but also consider: eighteen years ago, he was ten.
yeah.
anyway, so the honeybee isn't reno's favorite place, but he's not about to let some shit like one (or two or fifteen) bad experiences run afoul an otherwise spectacular night. he and some of the guys get the idea to go out and make a time of it, slumming it up as some like to call it and aren't they just so clever? ha-ha. it starts out with just drinking and then it's bar hopping and then it's some guys wanted to pick up some tricks in the south end and hit the love hotel but some aren't ready to call it a night that early and what do you do when you're running horny on main but not ready to actually get your rocks off but go see the show? then one guy says they got this new star at the honeybee and that's how they wind up at reno's less than favorite happiest place on earth.
of course, now, nobody would recognize him, so it ain't no thing. they all get a few bees on their arm and hit a booth to kick back, enjoy the magic. that's the one! his buddy says and elbows reno while he's halfway to a sip of his mojito and nearly makes him slosh it all over himself. reno laughs like he doesn't want to stab the little umbrella decoration into his eye. but then he actually does look at the stage (finally), gets a load of what's on it, and that wipes the look right off his face.
god damn. what a looker.
hey, you like blonds, right? says pointy elbows on his right, snickering at him, and the guy on his other side leans around and says dude, we should buy her for him.
"her"? is all reno has to say to that.
yeah, man, you need to loosen up!
maybe he does need to loosen up.
he lets the chucklefucks at the table around him drunkstupid their way into pooling enough gil together to make a special request, and reno watches them with a crooked smirk on his face as they point him out to the proprietor of the evening. he can see the very moment the answer changes from wondering where the fuck they get off making a request like that to oh, god, a turk? and immediate acquiescence.
yeah... maybe some things don't change.
so why doesn't he just leave? well, because that gal— guy— whatever, they're a looker, and maybe he needs to loosen up. so while his stupid friends take their honeyboys and girls off for what's undoubtedly going to be a mediocre time, reno settles in the vip room sans accompaniment with what's probably his fifth mojito and waits. ]