[ After all the bullshit back in town (and, frankly, the bullshit back home he'd just gotten through dealing with, too), Reno's pretty much had it up to here with monsters, and with doing shit for other people. He isn't out in the woods hunting snakes for altruistic purposes, that's for damn sure. In fact, he isn't hunting the snakes at all. If they cross his path, sure, they gets the zaps put to 'em, but otherwise, leave the "kill x monsters, receive prize" fetch quests for the protagonists. What Reno's after are these so-called wish-granting fairies. Ordinarily he'd chalk the rumor of them up as utter horseshit, but by now he's come to find that most of what people say is out there actually happens to be true, and for another, he was able to find more than one credible enough witness who encountered one themselves, which is good enough for him.
Maybe the fairies can sense his ulterior motives (catch one and bring it back; or, if he can't do that, then get it to piss its fairy dust on him so he can make some decent fucking cash growing weed or something), though, because he hasn't found any yet.
When the gunshots ring out, Reno ignores them and presses on. There shouldn't be anyone this far in, so he isn't concerned about stealth as he crunches his way through the underbrush. This is incredibly stupid. What the fuck is he doing out here, hunting fairies. Why is it always some bull— ]
—shit.
[ That crack isn't a twig, but his ankle—not broken, but god damn does it twist funny as he catches his shoe against a root. He could just wark it off, but as he catches himself against the trunk of the offending tree he finds himself a hearty few feet off from quite a few barrels, all of them pointed his way and glinting like a strobing warning sign in the dappled forest light. Absolutely fan-tastic. Standing partly on one foot, he raises both arms in the universal gesture of don't shoot. ]
daddy?
Maybe the fairies can sense his ulterior motives (catch one and bring it back; or, if he can't do that, then get it to piss its fairy dust on him so he can make some decent fucking cash growing weed or something), though, because he hasn't found any yet.
When the gunshots ring out, Reno ignores them and presses on. There shouldn't be anyone this far in, so he isn't concerned about stealth as he crunches his way through the underbrush. This is incredibly stupid. What the fuck is he doing out here, hunting fairies. Why is it always some bull— ]
—shit.
[ That crack isn't a twig, but his ankle—not broken, but god damn does it twist funny as he catches his shoe against a root. He could just wark it off, but as he catches himself against the trunk of the offending tree he finds himself a hearty few feet off from quite a few barrels, all of them pointed his way and glinting like a strobing warning sign in the dappled forest light. Absolutely fan-tastic. Standing partly on one foot, he raises both arms in the universal gesture of don't shoot. ]
Whoa, hey. Easy. Just a guy, not a snake.