[attr="class","hth"]

The volleyball bounced across the warm sands with a satisfying smack. It landed neatly (and conveniently) on Desmond's lap, jostling him from his moment of relaxation. He stirred, sitting upright, as he lifted the ball into his hands. Right on cue, one of the girls playing the game departed from the court to collect. While he had certainly enjoyed the view, he was not lecherous.... just a benefactor of the chair he had decided to sit in.[break][break]

If it had been any woman, he would have handed it off and resumed what he had been doing–her hair had distracted him. Pink. It stood out, but not for the obvious reasons.[break][break]

He was familiar with the faces of the new recruits. Pink hair was easily remembered. It stood out. When he browsed through the roasters, viewing the fresh meat, she had been one of the faces he could remember; he had been told that she was trouble. The little monster seemed to be doing just fine.[break][break]

She's sweet. Too sweet. The word cutie fizzled in his mind like the carbon in seltzer.[break][break]

“I think your friends are losing interest,” both teams had clustered into one, taking a chance to talk among themselves about trivial things. Cellphones were flashed and they seemed to be occupied with taking pictures of themselves at sharp, tilted angles to... enhance certain qualities. “They weren't as invested. Maybe they knew you were bound to win–eventually.”[break][break]

He rose from his seat, letting his height speak for him as he handed the young grunt her volleyball. “I've seen you before,” he stated, eyes focused on her soft features; his eyes clear of any discernable motive.[break][break]
tags @ainsley

[attr="class","hth"]

Desmond chuffed. Her display of violence–quickly concealed as she turned her attention back to him–was to be expected. He does not know her; yet, she displayed characteristics that he recognized in this line of work. It made this conversation feel familiar.[break][break]

“We have not met,” he clarified, head tilted ever so slightly. “I am not expected to familiarize myself with the... new additions,” Grunts were seen as disposable. Desmond was not. He was treated well. Why else would he be lounging on a beach, drinking his fill of cocktails, knowing that his cushy hotel would be awaiting him? A Head Scientist was to be pampered–all of his needs were expected to be sated to draw forth his best work.[break][break]

His eyes drifted away from the mischievous pinkette as her “boyfriend” marched in their direction. “Anything worthwhile on that whelp?” His voice rumbled, feeling an itch that was rarely felt–the scientist was never offered the chance to be openly malicious. It had to be contained to the lab where it would have to be observed, quantified, and set to fill a purpose.[break][break]

He missed the cruelty that came without purpose. “Or, have you already taken everything that you wanted?” She would see his hand hover close to the pocket of his white shorts, where his pokeballs resided.[break][break]

tags @ainsley