School of Devilry

"It's all in the lyrics. A heart wrenching tail of a man, a bottle, and their sizzling love affair dampened only by the closing of a liquor store." Treize paused as he spoke, realizing that he could not fit anything else into the cooler. He opted that he likely had enough, and soon rummaged through things under he found a role of packing tape, which he used to tape the lid shut. Just in case - god forbid- he dropped it or something.

Hoisting it easily onto one shoulder, his shirt slowly fell into it's normal position, and the werewolf frowned deeply. "Ugh, the stench! I'm going to be smelling this place for days. I'm going to need some new clothes after this!" He paused, looking to all of the corpses of his fallen brethren. He couldn't, could he? They were dead, they didn't need whatever they had on them.

Slowly setting the cooler down, Treize unsurely began to loot the corpses of his comrades, for any money or trinkets of interest. He wasn't particularly proud of himself, but really, they didn't need money where they were going, so... It was okay, right?

“Christ, you need to get out more.” he said with a soft shake of his head. He was smiling a bit though, finding that Treize was actually very amusing. Reno ran his hand across the wall until he found the familiar bump that indicated the safe was near. He paused at the next picture and yanked it from the wall. “There you are..” he mumbled, eyeing the large safe. He’d only been in it once when Creed sent him to get out money. His master had trusted him, surprisingly, around the money. He’d made a good choice back then- however, now was a different story.

He entered the previous combination, which had apparently been changed, thus he rest his ear against the metal and began to crack it. Slowly but surely he found the combination, and finally it popped open. “Mm, come to papa..” he whispered, eyeing the cash. It was filled to the top, of course. “Hart, get me a backpack.” he stated. “.. Please.”

"Backpack? Do we look like the backpack carrying type? Do you think any of these guys own a book?... Have even read a book?... Can they even read?" Treize asked, while stealing something out of a wallet, which he then tossed into the pile that he had already picked.

His eyes rose, and he paused. There was a large purse draped over the back of a chair. He quickly tipped it upsidedown, spilling it's contents over the floor, before making his way towards Reno, whom he threw the purse to/at.

He paused a few long moments, eying the cash, "if that kinda money is laying around why the FUCK is the guild in this shitty building?"

“I usually have a backpack- they’re great for carrying anything in.” he pointed out, raising a brow. “Especially grenades and ammo-” He paused as he was thrown a purse. An ugly, huge purse. It was going to stay in the trunk, Christ.

“It’s probably because this place should be more safe than a fancy hideout.. If someone found it and did this, imagine what would happen if this place was more noticeable?” He exhaled and shook his head softly and began to shove the money into the bag, making sure to squeeze it in as tight as he could. In the end he managed to get all of it in the bag, which was quite heavy all of a sudden.

“Let’s get out of here.” he suggested.

With all business in the guild apparently completed, the duo took their leave, with some difficulty considering all of the loot that they had stolen.

As it was getting late, and with Reno injured, it did not take much to convince them both that they should find a lace to stay for the night. Some place quiet. Out of the way. Where no one would ever venture to look for them.

As such, this landed them at a dingy little place along a side road, which clearly did not get much business as the owner was surprised to see Treize walk in - covered with blood much less. The tenant hadn't even heard a car approach, and when he peered out the window he saw only the 'luggage' that the two had.

Treize may have been batshit insane, but he was still clever, and his mind sharp. He had hidden the stolen car some ways away, where it could not possibly be linked to them.

With a key in one hand, and the other clutching his booze truck with near superhuman strength, he opened the door to their room, while chuckling in amusement at the number (13). Stepping into the room, he noticed an old television set, a table which clearly had a crooked leg, two mismatched chairs, some ugly ass lamps and decor, and one, large, bed.

He set the cooler down, then slowly looked to Reno, "Inside or out?" He asked, before smirking broadly, "or should maybe; top or bottom?" He looked Reno over, licking a sharp canine as he did so, "you look like a bottom man, to me."

Reno avoided all eye contact with the owner. He merely stared out of the side window and held the purse with the cash. It was embarrassing, but he didn’t seem phased. His dark hair was somewhat in his face, since his bandana was still around his arm, and he looked a bit shady. His free hand brushed the hair to the side and he listened to the other man to hear how he handled the situation. It amused him, thinking that this guy probably thought they were a couple of freaks. Oh well.

He stepped into the room after his new comrade, and was a bit disheartened that he realized there was only one bed. Uugh. His dark eyes flickered angrily at the question and comment, and he shook his head, setting the purse in one of the chairs. Reno chose to ignore Treize’s words and merely took the free chair, as if to say he had no intentions of any sort of relations with the other sniper. He’d sleep on the floor if he had to.

Treize snickered as he apparently hit a nerve. He eased himself to sit on the edge of the bed, and her propped the cooler open with his foot, while pulling out a couple of the glass bottles. He took a swig of Captain Morgan before rising and offering the other bottle to Reno.

"Haven't you heard what they call me around the guild? Treize, the ASS - ASS - IN. The butt pirate, the queeroid, the ..." he gestured with his hand, then shrugged, "and whatever else they call me... Hm. Why didn't I kill them myself? Bastards..." He trailed off, wandered around the room a little, then nudged Reno with his bottle of Captain Morgan, "ey, we should probably try to bandage your wound or something. I promise I wont beat off to you if you let me fix you up," he stuck his tongue out, as he knew that most straight men, or otherwise really, always seemed to think that he wanted them, no matter how ugly they were.

Well. He wouldn't turn Reno down... Actually, he would probably pursue the man a little, if only for fun. Rejection hardly bothered him, he was used to it. Mind games were incredibly fun, though.

Reno stayed in his chair, staring at the werewolves for a few moments before snorting a bit at the way he was acting. Such a strange creature, and Reno had to admit he shouldn’t feel as bothered as he did. Maybe it was because a part of him that he kept deep inside thought the blond was cute- even though he seemed pretty crazy. Oh well. He stayed out of relationships for quite a few reasons.

He struggled not to chuckle. True, that was rude of them, but what did he expect working in a place full of assholes? “They’re dead, don’t dwell on it…” he pointed out. “What’s done is done and there’s nothing more to be said about it.” He leaned back where he sat and brought his feet up to rest on the uneven table, watching the other man warily. Reno extended a hand and took his designated bottle of booze finally, as the other sniper was now in reach. He popped the cap and took a swig before looking to his bandana. It was very bloody and he knew it needed some attention. “Alright..” he said, not sure whether to take the guy seriously or not. So instead he took another drink.

"Well, take your shirt off," Treize commented, while slapping the purse off of the chair, he dragged it towards Reno and sat before the man. He too downed another portion of booze, his cheeks clearly becoming a little red as he did so.

He looked down at himself, at his own bloody shirt, which he pulled over his head with a snort, exposing his scarred form. It was fairly clear that he had seen a great deal of pain in his day. His new wound, however, was looking fairly well, all things considered. "Gonna have to beat some people up and steal their clothes," he suddenly said, and took another sip.

"... Never did get my taco..."

Reno rose a brow, as if to ask if that was really necessary, but in the end he set the bottle in his lap and pulled it off, grimacing a bit as he moved his arm. He tossed his shirt on the floor, staring at it for a moment before exhaling through his lips. When he rose his eyes to Treize he realized he’d taken his shirt off too. He was curious to see the scars, but he didn’t want to be rude. Then he eyed the newest wound that he had inflicted. “.. Sorry I shot you.” he pointed out, voice a bit low. He picked up his bottle and took another drink before straightening his posture and made his injured arm comfortable.

His body was scarred as well, though not nearly as many as Treize had. He’d never experienced torture, thank goodness, just a few unfair fights along with hits gone wrong. He was good at taking a beating, for a human, but he would likely crumble just as Treize had if put under the pain the other sniper had been through. “We could just go buy some.. We don’t need a lot of extra attention.” Reno chuckled softly and picked up his bottle, slow to take another sip. His stomach was on fire already, so he decided to take it a little slower.

“Hah, well.. Keep an eye out for a taco place when we hit the road again..”

"Buy some? Hrm. Probably... We should ditch the car first chance we get, too." Treize mused, while leaning towards the cooler, which he drug closer to himself. He filtered through the contents until he found a suitable bottle, which he opened, and then leaned in towards Reno... And began pouring it over his wound.

"Hurts like a bitch, I know, but this shit will clean it for sure!" Treize announced, and grew somewhat... Somber... Compared to usual. He took no thrill from the pain of others (unless bondage was involved), which is why he always went for the kill shot.

He nodded softly at the comment. "We do need a form of transportation though.. maybe we should look for something used tomorrow.." Reno licked his lips and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling for a little while. He knew they needed to talk, needed to reach an understanding..

His eyes shut tightly for a moment and he clearly tensed, however as he adjusted to the burn he reopened them, staring at Treize. "So.. I figure we need to go through those papers I grabbed sometime soon, see if they can shed any light on what's happened.. Possibly happening-" He cringed, flexing his arm to break open the dried blood and allow the alcohol to be more thorough. His other arm brought the booze to his lips and he took a deep drink, tanned cheeks becoming a bit rosy.

"Mm... Though I fucking hate car sales men... Maybe we'll get lucky and get an Autobot for a car! That would be awesome!" Treize rambled, while pulling the bottle of alcohol away from Reno's wound and making his way into the bathroom. He emerged with a towel, and some toilet paper.

Planking himself down again, he rolled some toilet paper around one hand and began to gently dab the blood and booze away from the man's wound. "I wonder if you can get drunk like that? That's be fucking awesome, hook me up to a booze IV and just leave me be," he commented, then quieted as he realized Reno had said something about papers and the like.

He gave a half shrug, "how about you do that, and I go find some fucking take out in this hick infested slice of hell?"

“I’ll deal with him then, you can just act mute.” he pointed out, eyes flickering some. An Autobot? Hah, that would be neat, but the odds weren’t likely. Reno watched Treize a bit warily, not wanting anymore pain tonight. Thankfully the blond sniper was gentle and he exhaled softly in relief.

“You’d die, trust me.” he commented randomly voice growing a bit quiet all of a sudden. He cleared his throat and leaned back in the chair. It felt a bit better already, though he knew the healing process would be a bitch.

“Hah, alright. This thing probably needs to air out anyways..” Reno rose and moved picked up the book before plopping down on the edge of the bed and taking another swig of his bottle of alcohol. “Be careful.” He mumbled it more than anything, not really wanting to seem concerned.

"But t'would be the noblest of deaths," Treize commented, as he rose and left Reno's wound alone. He laughed a little as the other man told him to be careful. "There's not much out there than can kill me... Ironically, a silver spoon might... Huh..." His voice trailed off, though he shrugged and made for the door, "I'll be back at some point," he commented, making a brief stop at the purse for some cash, then made his exit.

Shirt, shirt, shirt, I'm going to need a shirt. No shirt, no shoes, no service... Wonder if I wrap my pants around my chest, would that count as a shirt? Treize contemplated, while ambling away from the motel and down the dirt road. He recalled passing a gas station not that far down the road, which is what he was heading for (on foot, it would be pointless dragging the car out of it's hiding spot for such a thing.

He inhaled deeply, enjoying the darkness and the quiet. The fresh, clean air and silence was a great relief to his werewolf senses, which he still was not entirely used to.

His brows soon furrowed, and he glanced over his shoulder. He could hear something coming down the road, and soon enough a pair of large head lights appeared some distance away. He eased onto the side of the road more so, and attempted to ignore the beast of a road vehicle, which became increasingly difficult as it neared, and slowed down when it passed him. It even pulled over, blocking his path, so that he would have to step into the road.

Stalking around the machine, he watched wearily as a tall, pot bellied man emerged, wearing a shirt that did not contain his beer gut. He wore a cap, but was clearly balding, and one of his large rough hands rest on his stomach, and he appeared to be playing with his belly button.

Gross. Not I'm glad I didn't have a taco, I'd hate to have to puke up such a wonderful treat. Treize cringed in disgust as the man approached him, and suddenly the horniness he had been feeling because of the booze began to fade away.

"You goin' somewhar, boy?" The man asked, while leaning on his truck and continuing to touch himself.

"No where with the like of you, Treize responded, while moving around the man. As he tried to move past, the trucker grabbed him by the shoulders, causing the young to stop in place. If there was one thing he hated, it was being man handled, it reminded him of...

"Get in tha truck," came the man's gruff voice. He moved as though to force Treize to start to climb into the large vehicle, but the young werewolf brought an elbow to the unsuspecting man's throat, sending him sprawling across the pavement.

"I'd really rather not," Treize mumbled, appearing... Depressed. The young man stuck his hands in his pockets and simply began to move on, but being brought down by such a creature did not sit well with the trucker.

The man hoisted himself slightly into the cab of his truck, drawing out a crowbar before hopping back down to ground level. He then made his way after Treize, running with the weapon clenched tightly in both hands.

Turning at the sounds of feet scuffling along the ground, the sniper made a face, then contemplated simply killing the man. Sure, he didn't have a weapon, but he was a werewolf! A hungry werewolf. Snorting, he fought his primal urges and simply began to run down the road. "Catch me if you can, Fatman!" Treize taunted, and heard a grunt of disapproval somewhere behind him.

"Na na na na na na na na Fatmaaaaan!" Treize sang, while casting a glance over his shoulder. "Fatman! Fatman! Fatmaaaan!" He sang loudly, as he now a great deal of distance between himself and the other man. He turned forwards once more, and spotted the gas station that the two had passed driving. With an increased sense of urgency, he ran faster, leaving the trucker behind with his crowbar.

Darting into the door, he startled the attendant, a petite Asian woman, whom knocked a rack of beef jerky over in the process. He may have been a killer, but he had no intention of causing harm to innocents, so he gave a small (not entirely mad) smile, and picked the things up for her. He even opted to keep a few for himself and Reno.

As he roamed the isles, he occasionally returned to the check out to drop off his goodies, each time he did so the woman looked more pleased. While noticing a pack of animal crackers on a shelf, his eyes rose to the door as he heard it open, and the trucker from before entered. He narrowed his eyes a little, and began winding in and out of isles to avoid the man.

The Asian woman, seeming equally uncomfortable with the entrance of the burly man, if not more so as he carried a crowbar, shook her head as he began to question her at the counter.

It hardly mattered, as the trucked spotted movement, and hastily made for Treize, whom was cornered in the beer section of the store. The young man tried to escape, but he did not make it far when the first swing of the crowbar, which sent a case of beer crashing to the floor.

"Jesus!" Treize cursed, then attempted to skirt away, but another swing and more goods fell shattered to the floor. He really found himself in a spot of bad luck when he literally had no where to run. His back was pressed to a refrigerator and his side to a wall. The only way to go was through the trucker. He grimaced as the man rose the crowbar, but a shrill yell stopped them both.

Behind the trucker stood the small Asian woman, whom was holding a shotgun like a seasoned pro. "You!" She managed, jerking the muzzle at the trucker, her words barely audible, if her appearance wasn't enough to convince one she was not from the area, her accent certainly was. "You go now!" She warned, her finger clasped on the trigger of the weapon.

The trucker, appearing put off, slowly lowered the crowbar. He looked to Treize, whom was too shocked to mock him any further, before making a hasty exit. Moments later, his truck could be heard pulling out of the gas station, and he spend onwards with his freight.

Treize, finally, managed a large grin. "Nice move there, lady," he complemented, smirking as he enjoyed the sheer hilarity of the situation. He then began to make his way towards the counter, feeling a little bad for the things that had been broken, he watched the woman check in all of his food, and when she rang up the final cost, he simply handed her his wad of cash. "That ought to cover the damages," he commented, knowing that it covered far more then a couple cases of shattered beer, but it hardly mattered.

Before she could say anything, as she was still flipping through the money, trying to figure out how much of a tip she had gotten, he exited with his bags and made his way back towards the motel.

Luckily, the trip back was much smoother, and he made it to the doorstep of the motel without a hitch. A sigh of relief left his lungs, and he let himself into the room again, "Honey! I'm hoooome!"

He started with the large book. It took little time for him to realize it was full of the names of all of the assassins he’d known, as well as all of the ones he had heard of, and plenty others that he hadn’t even known existed. He found that several of the names were crossed out in what had to be dried blood, and that made him cringe. It was a disturbing thing. But then he realized that his name was crossed out, but then there was a star next to it, same with Treize. In other words, someone had been too confident that they were dead, which meant they knew they weren’t and now they were in deeper shit. Not good.

The book was turning into a headache, so he decided to put it aside for later. Maybe when the werewolf returned. He sighed softly and took a drink from his bottle. His head was swimming and his cheeks flushed, but he was alone now so it was no big deal.

Reno had set to work reading the papers, but it wasn’t long before he found himself growing bored. They were more complicated than the tome, so he set them aside too and flipped on the shitty television set. The news was the first thing to show, and to his dismay the breaking news was about the gruesome scene at the guild. He sad up, staring at the fuzzy screen with wide eyes as the reporter spoke.

“This just in, we’ve found the source of the horrible smell looming over the West side. According to the police, it’s a massacre inside of the building behind me. The officers won’t share much on the subject at this time, but we will bring you the latest news as the story develops. Thank you, Victoria Child, 11 news.”

The scene went back to the news room, and Reno exhaled. “Shit.. Our footprints.. Fingerprints..” He brought a hand up to his head and rubbed his temples. “No..” Thus he sat in silence and drank, trying to be calm yet he obviously was having problems doing so. His stomach growled and began to ache. Reno lay back against the bed and shut his eyes, setting his bottle to the side.

Before he knew it he was out, sprawled across the bed with the news playing in the background. He slept like a log with the aid of all the liquor he’d downed. His dreams were strange and somewhat erotic; he blushed and shifted in his sleep, making soft noises every now and then in response to the images and feelings. Things turned violent in his head, sending him into a cold sweat and utter silence, yet still he slept, even as Treize entered the room.

Closing, and locking, the door behind him, Treize shifted further into the room, amused to see that Reno had apparently either fallen asleep or passed out on the bed. He set down his bags of food, and drew out a pack of jerky, which he began to gnaw on.

Moving to the bed, he sat down alongside Reno body, dark eyes scanning his attractive form. For a few fleeting moments he wondered what he might be able to get away with. Leaning over Reno slightly, Treize drew out a piece of jerky, and wafted it in front of the other man's nose.

Eventually he drew the piece of dried meat downwards, to playfully circle an exposed nipple. "... I think people mostly do this shit with fruit, but... Fuck that, I'm fruity enough for both of us..."

Reno didn’t stir, even as the scent of jerky flooded his nostrils. He was busy walking the halls of the guild, wading through a rising river of blood and trying to reach the closed door at the end. The others were open, and as he passed he looked inside. They were filled with odd scenes from his life as a killer. People he’d killed floated around him, yet he wasn’t phased. In fact, he seemed to be getting off on seeing their faces and remembering the way he’d taken them out.

He tensed some as his nipple was toyed with with Treize’s jerky, but then he returned to his task, trying to reach that damn door. Something was behind it, something he had to see. But what? There was a soft echo off of the walls. 'fruity' ran through his ears and he exhaled softly. Was that blond in here somewhere too?

"Dumb ass, you're supposed to wake up and let me feed the jerky to you," Treize murmured, eventually popping the dehydrated meat into his mouth. After having devour it, he slowly leaned himself over Reno, and delivered a gentle lick to the nipple that he had been tantalizing.

Closing his eyes slowly, he savored the taste. It had been so long since he had been near another man like that. He could not help but reach out and touch his flesh, gently, as though he were caressing Reno.

Slowly, his dark eyes reopened, and he kicked off his shoes, before bringing his legs up onto the bed with the rest of his body, which now laid on it's side alongside the other sniper, whom he simply continued to touch lightly here and there, marveling at the welcoming feeling of his flesh.

Reno gripped the sheets, growing closer to the door. The blood was up to his waist, and it was slowing him so much. He hated it because he needed to get to the door- he had to. And soon. He picked up the pace as best he could but the liquid was dragging him down. He was so close, almost there- the sniper extended his hand to the knob, gripping it with his shaking fingers.

His weight shifted as Treize joined him on the bed, causing the blood in his dreams to turn a bit turbulent. His grip tightened and he began to twist the knob, not about to be knocked down by the ocean of red. He had to see what made this door so damn important.

Finally he gave a yank, sending the blood splashing back at him as it refused to leak through the doorway. His dark eyes widened as he saw his wife hanging from a noose in the middle of the room, feet twitching violently just as they had that day not but two or three years ago. His mouth opened and he began to rush forward, but then he began to fall, and he was reconnected with his booze filled body. He was beginning to feel the warmth of the werewolf.. He was coming back to the shitty hotel room, leaving her to die again in his dreams.

Treize really couldn't help himself as his werewolf instincts too over, and his tongue began to gently bathe the other males flesh. He seemed to linger particularly around the chest area, and before he really knew what he was doing he was once more lapping a the other male's nipples.

Slowly, he shifted himself, so that he were straddling the other sniper's waist. His mouth lowered, and his lips lightly latched onto Reno's right nipple, which he suckled tenderly.

Reno tensed once again, eyes flying open. He made a noise, a mixture of shock and pain. His hands rose quickly, one tried for a grip on the werewolf's throat and the other aimed for a strike to his stomach. "Off!" he exclaimed, eyes wide from the dream more than anything. He was shaking some, from heartache and the fact that Treize's tongue had felt so good on his chest. The pressure of the other sniper straddling him excited him some, but he wouldn't show it. He wouldn't give this bastard the satisfaction. He hoped Treize would listen and hop off because he knew he couldn't overpower the creature. He didn't even know why he'd bothered hitting or trying to choke him. Reno just wanted him off. Especially since he felt like a piece of shit for enjoying the feelings after watching his wife die again. He'd let her get that upset.. he was the reason she was gone.. he didn't want anyone else.

Treize's eyes widened as he felt something at his throat. He had been so into what he was doing that he had not even seen the other male waking up. Slowly, he rolled himself off of Reno, giving a nervous laugh as he did so. "Hah, I knew that would wake you up, you drunk," he managed, before lifting his bag of jerky once more, "I brought back some food. Didn't really know what you like so I bought a bunch of random stuff... Didn't have much on the healthy side, but I grabbed a couple of subs if you want something more substantial," he said, his voice quiet. He slowly fed himself another piece of jerky, before allowing his eyes to trail to Reno.

Reno exhaled, clearly relieved that Treize obeyed. He didn't seem to buy the other sniper's cover up, therefore he shook his head softly and rose, a bit wobbily. "Thanks... but no thanks.." he murmured as he made his way to the bathroom. His eyes were watery and he hid them from the blond as he stepped into the small area and turned on the sink. He felt too foul to eat. That was why he merely splashed his face with cold water and stood there for a few moments. He stared at the mirror, scanning himself. At least Treize had stayed away from his pants; he could appreciate that. "No more booze either.." he commented, intent on staying away from the bottle at the foot of the bed. "Uugh."

Treize shrugged a little. He wasn't about to play mommy to another sniper. Shaking his head a little, the hand that wasn't feeding him closed around his own neck, as he remembered the torture that he had been subjected to. A deep sigh left his chest, and he looked down at the bags of food, remaining oddly silent for the long moments in which he simply ate.

"A lot of people would put a bullet in my skull for pulling shit like that," he finally called, licking his lips slowly as he did so, "in fact many have tried for much less." He snorted a little at the thought, and eventually he tossed aside the empty jerky bag and began to rummage around for his animal crackers. The rattling of plastic bags could be heard as he continued to speak, "feel free to try at any time. "

He opened his animal crackers, and after doing a sort of little play with them, in which he gave them voices and acted out with them, he began to pop them in his mouth. "Mm~"

Reno slowly exited the bathroom, drying his face with a towel. “I won’t try.. They know we didn’t kill each other.” he pointed out, voice sounding distant. He eyed the werewolf with a soft shrug of his own. “I mean, we can split if you want, but I think we need to figure out who’s killing us off..” He leaned against the wall, watching the boy with a blank face. It turned into a faint smile as he toyed with his animal crackers, but then he caught the twitch of his mouth muscles and it disappeared. Reno moved to his chair from earlier and stared at the wall.

“Do you want to die?” he suddenly blurted, fingers intertwining as he slowly moved his gaze to his… ‘roommate’. He wanted to know more about Treize, and since he'd heard about his torture he had grown even more curious about the stranger. He... wanted to get to know the other sniper since they might be stuck together for a while.

Treize shrugged his shoulders a little at Reno's question, and forcefully swallowed a mouthful of animal crackers. "I... Wouldn't object to dying. Always figured being in the guild would get me killed eventually... And now I'm a fucking werewolf. Ain't life just dandy?" He snorted, and popped a lion shaped cracker into his mouth. "And what about you? Even if we can't kill other guild members there are plenty of enemies to be made in an assassin's guild, no honor among thieves, as they say... Or murders, as the case is.."

Reno nodded softly at Treize’s words, able to relate up until the werewolf statement. “I’m sorry..” he pointed out, sounding genuinely sincere for the first time that night. He leaned back in his chair and looked up to the ceiling. “I’d welcome it after tonight..” he murmured, undoing his belt buckle. He stood up and put the utility belt on the table, sighing. “You’re right, but there is vengeance, there is spite.” His fingers searched through a pouch until he found his wedding ring. He looked it over, strong hands turning the gold band over before he slipped it onto the chain around his neck with his dog tags. “Treize, they know we’re not dead, and they will come after us. The book is full of names, and several of them are crossed out. We’re being wiped out.”

Treize watched in silence as the male produced a solid gold ring. He arched a brow, having never figured Reno for the 'settle down and get married' type, but dismissed it as he himself was not always an assassin, he had once been a meek, powerless boy that could not defend himself, let alone anyone else.

"Let me ask you this, before me, have you ever seen anything like tonight, at the guild? Primed killers just... Slaughter like little, helpless lambs?" He shifted himself so that his back rest against the headboard of the bed. "I may not be that old, but I've seen a lot of things. I've witness werewolves fighting to the death, seen vampires just rush in and wipe out small populations. Seen demons that could easily level entire cities. Hell, I dated a dragon anthromorph a long, long time ago, but never, have I seen a group of well trained men wiped out like childs play, without even taking a defensive stance. None of their weapons were drawn, it was like... They didn't even see it coming..." His voice trailed off, and he nibbled on the corner of an animal cracker, "I don't know what the fuck killed them, but we better have an angel watching over us or we're just as good as dead."

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling Treize’s eyes on him as he put the ring on his necklace. Since the other sniper didn’t ask, the man didn’t tell.

Reno listened to the werewolf with a soft frown, shaking his head. “No, never in my life…” he commented. “I may be just a human, and not have seen any of the things you have, but I know that it isn’t possible, unless there were more than one amazingly trained killers.. I just.. I don’t know, Treize.” He brought his hand to his head again. He'd had too much to drink.. Then it fell to his ring, as an angel was mentioned, and he lowered his head for a few moments. “I wish I could say that I knew we did, but with the things I /have/ seen, I’m afraid I don’t know what to believe.” He exhaled, sounding disheartened. “We need to be on the move when we can, and make sure to be as invisible as we can get.”