MHA #1, Aka Reno _And_ Rikku-Land, Friday Evening

[the_merriest]

Reno had assured her that she didn't need to clean for Rude, that Rude was used to his messes, but Rikku liked cleaning. She hadn't seen Rude in ages! This was going to be fun!

The place was decidedly cozier than Rude would probably be expecting. What with all the cheery decor and the orange fluffy bathmat. There weren't even any empty beer bottles or porno mags on the coffee table.

Just an Al Bhed girl, puttering around while Reno ran out for more supplies. Which she hoped didn't mean more beer and pornos. But, well. It was Reno.

(This will be the site of an unholy sort of Turks Reunion, featuring several versions of some of the people involved, no less. But the very first thread is for Tseng alone, please, even though it's Rude she's expecting.)

Comments

[ponytailedturk]

Tseng had been expecting a bit of an... eclectic mix when he'd decided that he was to accompany Rosalind to a bit of an unofficial gathering of Turks. He was already aware of the alternate Reno, of course. And of Elena, to a considerably different degree. He should have anticipated that wherever Reno went, there went Rude, though this one was, like Reno and Elena, older than he was used to, and seemed to have gotten it into his head to grow some facial hair.

He... Had no idea what to make of the blonde in the very colorful outfit, and found himself occasionally stealing baffled glances at her. Whenever he wasn't flat-out staring at the man who bore an unsettling resemblance to himself. For obvious reasons.

He was beginning to suspect what the other Tseng had known for a long time. This island was going to do terrible things to his sanity.

[turk_mailman]

The other Tseng, meanwhile, was very pointedly not looking at his younger counterpart. Because if he looked, then he would open his mouth, and words and warnings would come out that would almost certainly destroy the universe at large in a rain of fire delivered by... Gods only knew anymore. Sephiroth. Jenova. AVALANCHE. Pick an AVALANCHE.

No, no, this Tseng in particular was actually occupying himself with the very important task of giving Reno dirty looks, instead.

Because Reno was one of several people in this very room that he would not break reality by speaking his mind to.

[ponytailedturk]

How unfortunate, then, that Tseng - any incarnation of Tseng - did not take well to being ignored. Not even by himself, thank you very much.

And that was a problem that he was going to address quite simply by looking at his counterpart with an eyebrow slightly raised.

"I don't suppose you know which one of us is the first, and which is the second?"

He'd been a little tripped up earlier in the day, trying to discern which hotel room was his own.

[turk_mailman]

Really, he should have known better than to hope that he wouldn't be faced with a question from his younger self. After all, he knew the man rather more intimately than anybody else in this room.

He turned a glance toward him that was very, very carefully neutral. Professional in the most strict way. Really, in this particular scenario, he was trying to out-Tseng the best.

It was a unique experience. He only supposed that he ought to be thankful that an even younger counterpart still hadn't shown up for Zack, as well.

"I'll take the first," he decided, simply. His logic was simple. He was older. Hadn't he ever learned to respect his elders, and his superiors, for that matter?

[ponytailedturk]

As a matter of fact, he had, thank you very much. And very well. But he didn't take his orders from Tseng of the Turks. His orders came from a far more impressive chain of command.

Or, at least, one that didn't look so eerily like himself, only a few years older and appearing as though he'd been through hell on more than one occasion, a fact that he was silently filing away for future reference.

"That will do," he settled on, though he suspected that he could guess the other Tseng's reasoning. Very well. He would take the second. He imagined that it had a better view of the island, in any case.

So there.

[turk_mailman]

Really now, Tseng. Tseng could tell when you were being petulant while still being terribly agreeable. It was best to simply just say what you were thinking aloud, because those bitter looks across the room were only serving to remind your older self exactly how impossible you used to be.

Which, Tseng noted, was an effect that rather seemed to dwarf that achieved by looking through old mission files, picking apart every little thing that could have been done better.

"I trust that the room will suit your needs," he said, simply. "It is, after all, very nearly exactly the same."

And only two doors down, as well. Convenient, that.

[ponytailedturk]

"Fitting, I suppose," Tseng noted, dryly. Really. The same man. In identical suites. "Next year, provided Rosalind is still a student here, I imagine I'll have to invest in one of the suites, in order to save further confusion."

Stick that in your cookie and eat it, old man.

[turk_mailman]

Well. Tseng was now going to find himself scraping together gil and pulling late-night monster hunts in order to scrounge up enough money to be able to afford one of the specialty suites. Perhaps the Champagne Suite. Or the Presidential.

Because he really, really wasn't in the mood for that particular sort of cookie.

"I imagine you might," he agreed. Idly. So very idly. "Should it prove to be within your budget."

Because he was one to talk.

[findingelena.livejournal.com]

While her sister was talking to the older Tseng, Elena found herself drawn to the younger one. He was wearing the ponytail! She really, really wanted to grab onto it and tug. Which would get her fired, by the other Tseng.

"Hi," she said, offering him a warm smile. Tsengs did wobbly things to her knees, okay?

[ponytailedturk]

And now, Tseng was being faced with... With a Turk, who he had never met. Though she did seem to bear an uncanny resemblance to Rosalind.

...

He glanced briefly between this unidentified Turk, and the direction in which Rosalind's younger sister had run. More interesting information to file away for later.

"Good evening," he greeted, pleasantly, but, of course, professionally.

[findingelena.livejournal.com]

"Elena," she said, offering him a hand. Her gaze flickered to the younger girl and back again, and she dipped her head in acknowledgment.

Totally her. He wasn't the only one here that had a double. Please, do not break the younger version by explaining it to her?

"I don't usually see you with your hair up," she added. Which was still professional. Mostly.

[ponytailedturk]

And that hand was going to be accepted and shaken all in one quick, businesslike gesture. Professional, no matter the relative age difference between himself and this woman's counterpart from his own timeline. She was a Turk, now. It would appear that even the most seemingly unlikely individuals still carried potential.

"I don't often wear it down," he noted. And that accompanied a glance toward his own counterpart for a split moment. And a furrowed eyebrow. So intriguing...

[findingelena.livejournal.com]

"No, you wouldn't," Elena said, as straight-faced as she could manage. "It would get into the wine when you drank."

She was going to reach for a glass and take a sip from it, now, so that she wouldn't be watching him for the reaction to that.

[ponytailedturk]

Which was probably for the best. It meant that she didn't get to see him looking at her like perhaps she'd lost her mind.

Conveniently, it mean that both of them wouldn't see the pointed eyebrow raise provided by the other Tseng in the room.

"Yes, there is that, I suppose..."

Poor little Tseng. So confused.

[findingelena.livejournal.com]

"Sorry," she said. "An in-joke. One that doesn't translate well."

Carefully not looking at her Tseng. (Her Tseng?)

"When I joined the Turks, I cut my hair very short. A lot like Rosalind's. Easier to maintain, less bother. I should probably cut it short again, but I'm reluctant."

She liked having curls brush her shoulders when she shook her head.

[ponytailedturk]

"There are plenty of Turks with long hair," Tseng noted, lifting an eyebrow slightly.

He happened to be one of them. Apparently Reno, somewhere down the road, was going to join the ranks of the Turks with long hair. "As long as you're capable of conducting yourself in a professional manner, your hairstyle hardly matters."

Really. Hair was one of the few things that they didn't seem to care about.

[findingelena.livejournal.com]

"I believe it isn't my hairstyle that causes difficulty," Elena admitted, with a bit of a flush, "but my ability to be thoroughly inappropriate."

Tseng, the other Tseng, needn't glare at her for that. She wasn't going to take that conversation anywhere dangerous.

[ponytailedturk]

Tseng, this Tseng, was vaguely aware that... that... Was Rosalind's sister flirting with him?

Pardon him for a moment please, Elena, while he once again looks between you and the little girl at play.

And feels vaguely dirty.

"It would seem... that's something you've been working on for some time."

In one form or another. At least this incarnation of Elena wasn't threatening to kick him in the shin.