fandomtownies | Fixer-Uppers, Sunday

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Fixer-Uppers, Sunday

Okay, so, the rest of the Island was headed off to Hawaii without him. Reno was cool with that. Between all the kids that had been running around the island last weekend, screaming their little kid heads off, it would be nice to just laze around, enjoying the peace and quiet around here.

... With the help of some earplugs, as he was hard at work with an angle grinder, working on shaping some motor parts just-so while he tinkered away at what looked like it could maybe be put to use in a motorbike, or something. Not that he wanted a motorbike, really. But it was something to do.

If it actually ran by the time he was done, he'd probably smash the hell out of it, trying to do stunt-jumping on the rooftops or something. This was the only thought that was keeping him from staring in horror at that damned lens flare, today.

[Idek. Open, if anyone is left on the island!]

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"You didn't go on the trip?"

Oh look, a Rookie.

Who'd finally surfaced from the paperwork that had taken over her life for the last three weeks. There was still plenty to be done, but--

It was nice, to walk without anyone else around.

So, of course, she'd had to go find someone.

The logic in this was immensely messed up, yes.

Hey, it was just the sort of logic that Reno could relate to. He was probably the most antisocial social butterfly in the Turks, after all.

A gossip who didn't play nice with others. Go figure.

"You see one tropical island, you see 'em all," Reno replied, making certain that the grinder was off before reaching up to pluck out one of his earplugs. There were little burn-marks all over his suit from the flying sparks.

Big deal, right?

"I guess I shouldn't be so surprised to see you floatin' around here still, huh?"

No big deal at all.

Rosalind leaned in the doorway, a coffee from the Perk in one hand. "I've been busy," she replied, "no time to go haring off after a beach when the quiet of the island itself will prove more appealing."

"I think the appeal's supposed to be the sun," Reno mused, "but you get that here, too. It's just kinda... colder, yo."

Which suited him just fine. The slums of Midgar hadn't exactly been heated, in the winter.

"Been keepin' busy, Rookie?"

"For some reason," she said, more than a touch dryly, "Tseng prefers when I do the paperwork than when your counterpart does it."

Really, two guesses as to why and the first one didn't count.

Not that Rosalind was complaining--she'd rather be useful than not.

Reno cracked the world's most crooked little grin at that. There was a laugh involved, in that kind of throaty, breathy way that Reno tended to laugh that didn't really seem to be a laugh at all.

"You think maybe that other me's got it all figured out? Shit, my Tseng didn't even catch on until after I came here, like maybe I wasn't flunkin' all my classes, maybe I really do know how to do shit like read an' write, yo."

Possibly not with anything resembling proper grammar.

But maybe so. Reno was mysterious that way.

Rosalind sniffed.

"I'm quite sure you do," she replied, with an arch of an eyebrow. "As you've never had a problem with getting and understanding orders."

Really, it was just the paperwork at the end of it that seemed to be the problem...

Reno was totally going to plead some sort of attention-deficit disorder. He'd read his mission details just long enough to figure out where he had to go and whose face he had to smash in, and was there anymore more important than that to worry about, really?

No, Reno didn't think so, either.

"Hey, who's to say that I don't make Rude read 'em for me?"

That was what Rudes were for, right?

"Perhaps," she allowed, though she didn't entirely believe it.

What sort of Turk would she be if she took something like that on faith alone?

"What are you doing?"

"Workin'," Reno reported, pushing his goggles up to his forehead and peering down at the chunk of metal that he'd been working with. "On what, I ain't quite sure yet. Startin' to miss havin' a chopper around, yo. Figured I'd make up for that my buildin' something that goes fast."

By the time he was done, with the amount of scrap he figured he could weasel away on his limited budget, he'd probably manage a... skateboard with a motor in it.

Or possibly a Vespa.

"Or blow yourself up?" she needled. "Surely there are parts at the junkyard that you could salvage?"

Rosalind would comment on using spare parts but, really, for all that she had money now--she'd grown up in the slums too. Reuse reuse reuse.

Hey, Reno had already blown himself up once! He wasn't in any hurry to have a repeat of the experience, Rosalind.

"Hey, there probably are," he agreed. "But we got all these old bits an' pieces here already, I figure if I can slap somethin' together with 'em that runs, all the better, yo. I don't wanna let any of this crap go to waste just because this part don't fit with that one unless I grind it down. And I think I'm gonna have to weld that one on..."

For all that he was a lazy ass, at least Reno knew his way around the odd mechanical doodad.

Really, he knew a fair bit for spending so much of his time acting the moron.

At least, that was her Reno, back home.

"I suppose so," she said, sipping her coffee. "I've never built anything before."

Give her thirty minutes and a good manual and she'd be on her way to being a genius at it, though. Like flying a helicopter.

... Yes.

Hey, what kind of Turk didn't know their way around a helicopter?

"Never?" Reno's eyebrow quirked up at that, and he set the grinder down, reaching for a wrench and tossing it into the air, only to catch it again. "What, you never saw anything you wanted to make, before? Knowin' your way around stuff like this could come in handy, if you ever find yourself in a chopper bein' flown by Tseng, yo."

That was a safe joke to make to her. He was pretty much positive that the chopper crash in Modeoheim had already happened in her timeline, and teasing Tseng over it had been a bit of a thing for a while, after.

So it was, as Rosalind rolled her eyes, looking amused.

"And you're perfect, are you?" Rosalind lifted her shoulders. "Nothing like this," she clarified, "fixing every day things or messing with the enemies supplies--that's different."

"Hey, I'm as perfect as they come," Reno laughed. Because he was humble like that. "You wanna give this a try, Rookie? Never know when you'll need it, zoto."

And besides, Reno liked any excuse to get axle grease up to his armpits. In that regard, he and Rikku were made for each other.

And Rosalind was fastidious, but...

All knowledge was good knowledge.

"What do you want me to do?"

Reno eyed her for a moment, thoughtfully. And then he held up the grinder.

"You ever work one of these things? I got a few more parts that don't quite fit, and I gotta work 'em down a bit in order to wedge 'em in. Nice and snug, preferably, yo."

Which would free him up to dig around for more parts.

"And that's going to make them fit?" she asked, studying it carefully.

"It is if you do it right," Reno replied, nodding down. "See that hole in the middle? Perfect size for that bit, there. But the rest is too thick, so I'm takin' it down a bit more. Few more millimetres, and I'll try it again, yo. Think you can handle that, Rookie?"

"I can handle anything," she said, a bit stiffly.

Anything and everything--until she'd died.

"Let me try."

"All yours, then," Reno chuckled, shaking his head as he handed the grinder off to her and took a half-step back. All the better for watching what she was up to, there. "Earplugs in the container on the desk. You need somethin' to cover your eyes, too. You can use my goggles, if we don't find somethin' else, yo."

He'd look weird without his goggles. They were a fixture.

Rosalind looked the slightest bit dubious.

"Your goggles?"

Did he really think she'd be willing to wear them? Rosalind carefully took the grinder before setting it down carefully. Earplugs to find first, then--looking for another pair of goggles.

"Well, unless you wanted sparks in your eyes," Reno replied, with a roll of his own. "I'm sure we got somethin' floatin' around somewhere, though."

But honestly, now. It wasn't like they were diseased, here.

"Please," she replied dryly, a hint of a smile on her face. "Would I ever ignore a safety measure?"

... Yes.

"You don't want me to answer that," Reno mused, smirking quite blatantly before he went scrounging about for a spare pair of safety glasses. "Do you?"

"If I could hear your honest interpretation," she said, glancing through a few drawers. "Then why not?"

"Well, I don't see any reason why not," Reno allowed, chuckling again as he pulled open another drawer. They were probably somewhere around the first-aid kit, right? That would make sense. "But you probably wanna put in your earplugs first, yo."

Yes. Before he could start talking.

She tsked him, even while she continued her own search.

"And miss your words?"

Reno was laughing again.

"Ain't that the whole idea?"

Really? Reno had been pretty positive that the Rookies made a game out of not listening to him.

Rosalind gazed at him.

"But this time," she said, "I'm asking."

Which made all the difference.

"And you figure I got nothin' useful to say when you're not?" His tone was still pretty mellow, even for Reno, as he dig through another drawer and- Hah!

"Your safety glasses, Rookie."

And they looked totally stupid. But hey, she'd turned down the kickass goggles, so it was her own fault.

"They're perfect," she said, in defiance of his own opinion. They were--he hadn't worn them. "And when you say something useful, some of us listen."

Sometimes.

Now and then.

Ish.

"Yeah, some of you," Reno allowed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head a little.

Generally, not Rosalind.

"Grab your earplugs, Rookie."

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Fixer-Uppers, Sunday

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