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Summary: Seeing his Second in Command having a bad day, Tseng takes matters into his own hands to cheer up the younger redhead.
Pairing/Characters: No Pairing/Reno, Tseng
Setting: FF7-Original Game
Rating: G
Status: Complete
Type: One Shot Drabble
Disclaimer: All related Final Fantasy names and characters are copyrighted © by Square Enix, however, the story, ideas, interpretations and original characters all belong to me.

Walking down the hall, shuffling his feet and hanging his heavy head, the redhead and usually energetic arrogant Turk slowly made his way to his office, looking very reminiscent of a mindless reanimated corpse, the living dead, the walking soulless. Pulling out his chair, the Second in Command’s butt hit the furniture hard, shaking the floor of the entire office before unceremoniously letting his torso fall forward, with no hesitation or restrictions, his head hitting the finished wood with a deafening and hollow “thunk.”

It was turning out to be one of those days.
On pure coincidence, the well composed and purely professional leader of the Turks, just so happened to watch the rather sad and defeating display from his subordinate. Such actions were not normal for the obnoxious thorn in his side. Curious, Tseng followed after his Second, silently trailing behind the presently unobservant redhead, stirring his coffee effortlessly as he walked. The Wutaian stopped in the office doorway, unobtrusively observing, continuing on with his investigation into his comrade’s odd behavior. When the younger man’s head fell forward, hitting the desk with a pain filled echo, the Director couldn’t help but fight back wince.
“Reno,” the Director sternly called out, his calm and overly serious eyes meeting the defeated and deadened glow of the redhead’s aquamarine orbs as the Turk groggily raised his head to look at his superior.
With a commanding nod of his head, giving no further verbal instruction, Tseng ordered the Second in Command to follow him, which, of course, the wounded puppy obeyed without question. The walk continued in silence, the only accompaniment the occasional sound of the Wutaian drinking his pleasant and tasty beverage. The Director took his Turk all the way down the training floor and straight to the shooting rage. For going the safety measures, at least for the time being, Tseng positioned the broken young man in front of the open stall. Reaching inside his jacket, the mentor pulled out a shiny new hand gun, one which Reno had never seen before, and the redhead knew the Wutaian’s arsenal like the back of his own damn hand.
“Picked it up today,” the Director answered, already able to read his colleagues question on his face before it was even asked. “Haven’t even pulled the trigger yet.”
Having given over his new possession, the old Wutaian turned, patting the younger man on the shoulder, a small smile hidden upon his features. “Just… be gentle.”
And with that, Tseng went to make is exit, lingering for a moment off in the shadows, making sure his plan had worked, watching happily as that spark returned to the dastardly demon, the intensity growing with each shot that was fired.
Hey… Reno might have been an obnoxious and horribly painful thorn in his side, but he was still Tseng’s thorn, his responsibility, and the Director wouldn’t have it any other way.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Summary: Seeing his Second in Command having a bad day, Tseng takes matters into his own hands to cheer up the younger redhead.
Pairing/Characters: No Pairing/Reno, Tseng
Setting: FF7-Original Game
Rating: G
Status: Complete
Type: One Shot Drabble
Disclaimer: All related Final Fantasy names and characters are copyrighted © by Square Enix, however, the story, ideas, interpretations and original characters all belong to me.

Walking down the hall, shuffling his feet and hanging his heavy head, the redhead and usually energetic arrogant Turk slowly made his way to his office, looking very reminiscent of a mindless reanimated corpse, the living dead, the walking soulless. Pulling out his chair, the Second in Command’s butt hit the furniture hard, shaking the floor of the entire office before unceremoniously letting his torso fall forward, with no hesitation or restrictions, his head hitting the finished wood with a deafening and hollow “thunk.”

It was turning out to be one of those days.
On pure coincidence, the well composed and purely professional leader of the Turks, just so happened to watch the rather sad and defeating display from his subordinate. Such actions were not normal for the obnoxious thorn in his side. Curious, Tseng followed after his Second, silently trailing behind the presently unobservant redhead, stirring his coffee effortlessly as he walked. The Wutaian stopped in the office doorway, unobtrusively observing, continuing on with his investigation into his comrade’s odd behavior. When the younger man’s head fell forward, hitting the desk with a pain filled echo, the Director couldn’t help but fight back wince.
“Reno,” the Director sternly called out, his calm and overly serious eyes meeting the defeated and deadened glow of the redhead’s aquamarine orbs as the Turk groggily raised his head to look at his superior.
With a commanding nod of his head, giving no further verbal instruction, Tseng ordered the Second in Command to follow him, which, of course, the wounded puppy obeyed without question. The walk continued in silence, the only accompaniment the occasional sound of the Wutaian drinking his pleasant and tasty beverage. The Director took his Turk all the way down the training floor and straight to the shooting rage. For going the safety measures, at least for the time being, Tseng positioned the broken young man in front of the open stall. Reaching inside his jacket, the mentor pulled out a shiny new hand gun, one which Reno had never seen before, and the redhead knew the Wutaian’s arsenal like the back of his own damn hand.
“Picked it up today,” the Director answered, already able to read his colleagues question on his face before it was even asked. “Haven’t even pulled the trigger yet.”
Having given over his new possession, the old Wutaian turned, patting the younger man on the shoulder, a small smile hidden upon his features. “Just… be gentle.”
And with that, Tseng went to make is exit, lingering for a moment off in the shadows, making sure his plan had worked, watching happily as that spark returned to the dastardly demon, the intensity growing with each shot that was fired.
Hey… Reno might have been an obnoxious and horribly painful thorn in his side, but he was still Tseng’s thorn, his responsibility, and the Director wouldn’t have it any other way.