He had the good sense not to pout or be clingy - or just generally wasn't that way anyhow - and let Makishima float off to his people. The surroundings were much less like the vehicle and scrap shops back home and he wondered vaguely if the teen would like Midgar or not. Things to consider, the Turk mused to himself, running his fingertips over a dark wine colored bike. All those long lines, curves and edges, he smiled, blue-green eyes sliding up from a bike frame to the like of Maki's body. Appropriate, the Turk mused. Makishima loved something that was much like him.
entertaining himself but trying to see the differences in what had once been all the same to him, Reno left Makishima to mingling with his friends to focus on pedals and saddles and different frames, racking up a list of questions. why did some have bars here and not there, what were there twice as many gears on these versus those? Was color relevant to grade or just aesthetic choice? What were all the little gadgets in the cases around the shop? Really, though bikes weren't likely to be any kind of real passion for Reno, he did find the reality of the pocket world fascinating. Not but a few short hours ago bikes were bikes - inferior modes of travel that were all one in the same. Skinny metal things that you had to power yourself.
He reminded himself that if he was ever able to tell the full truth and take Maki to Midgar, he wanted to take the man on a motorbike ride across the plains and desert to Kalm and other places. Take him from the upper plates of Midgar...all that hair snapping in the wind...making out in the saddle while they stood on top of the world looking down on the industrial kingdom that was home...
Whenever Maki chanced to look at Reno again he could see the man gripping the handle of a bike he'd leaned again, eyes distant with a vague smile as he daydreamed his perfect date. The little fantasy was rapidly getting inappropriate and the crooked grin on the redhead's face continued to look more lopsided as he nodded to no one in particular, agreeing with the little devil on his shoulder.
no subject
entertaining himself but trying to see the differences in what had once been all the same to him, Reno left Makishima to mingling with his friends to focus on pedals and saddles and different frames, racking up a list of questions. why did some have bars here and not there, what were there twice as many gears on these versus those? Was color relevant to grade or just aesthetic choice? What were all the little gadgets in the cases around the shop? Really, though bikes weren't likely to be any kind of real passion for Reno, he did find the reality of the pocket world fascinating. Not but a few short hours ago bikes were bikes - inferior modes of travel that were all one in the same. Skinny metal things that you had to power yourself.
He reminded himself that if he was ever able to tell the full truth and take Maki to Midgar, he wanted to take the man on a motorbike ride across the plains and desert to Kalm and other places. Take him from the upper plates of Midgar...all that hair snapping in the wind...making out in the saddle while they stood on top of the world looking down on the industrial kingdom that was home...
Whenever Maki chanced to look at Reno again he could see the man gripping the handle of a bike he'd leaned again, eyes distant with a vague smile as he daydreamed his perfect date. The little fantasy was rapidly getting inappropriate and the crooked grin on the redhead's face continued to look more lopsided as he nodded to no one in particular, agreeing with the little devil on his shoulder.