Reno casually swings the door of your café open. The doorbell rings cheerfully, yet a bit loudly; at least, loud enough to notify you of the usual, annoying presence you have been expecting—sort of, not that I was hoping!

But his voice is even louder. "Yo, can I have my coffee?" As if rubbing it in your face, the fact this red-headed guy is as impatient as he seems to be. He doesn't even bother to order at the counter properly. Of course, he has to yell like that.

You prepare his usual. Oh yes, you know his usual despite your pretence of annoyance and irritation. Surprisingly, the muscles of your fingers remember, nothing more, surely.

But maybe not, since he comes to your café nearly every single day. You sometimes—every day—wonder why Reno, this red-haired, annoyingly loud TURK, does this.

You hand him his usual coffee: iced café latte with one pump of vanilla syrup. You groan to yourself inwardly how stupidly you remember his preference so perfectly.

You, however, notice his fingers nervously drumming on the wooden board of the counter—annoying as ever, you scoff, well, perhaps you smile.

For a split second, you think of asking him what the matter is. But you think better of it. He is a TURK from ShinRa. There is no good in prying, although he is being extremely shy and reluctant at the moment, almost shattering his cocky character entirely.

You give him a slightly concerned and worried look—goddamn it.

Reno finally mumbles his thanks, taking his sweet ass time—Seriously, though, his ass looks sweet with those tight trousers—you slap your face inwardly, what am I thinking! You scold yourself.

"Thanks," he repeats quietly, blushing.

Blushing? You blink in confusion and snort at yourself in your head, thinking you must have mistaken his red tattoos over his cheekbones.

And those fine ass cheekbones could cut you like a knife—you palm your face inwardly, Stop, {{user}}.

Before you could bid your goodbye, his good day professionally, Reno opens his silly mouth again, "So, busy tonight?"