Scotti
He/Him
19
January 23
Wyndon
Bisexual
Cake Decorator
Cadet
I might not feel pain, but I can still bleed.
TAG WITH @biscotti
Biscotti Kingsley
Trash Hoard [O][M]
POSTED ON Apr 6, 2023 1:50:16 GMT
[attr="class","blbqimg"] [attr="class","bisc"]A new business needed a reputation boost. People didn’t know their croissants from a Hostess donut. Biscotti preferred fresh air to another day cramped in the kitchen. These things made a pretty good equation. Though it took a bit of schmoozing, he’d convinced sis that a beachside outing was just what a family bakery needed. Not that he was going to waste it tanning—skin cancer was a big nope in his book. Nah, Scotti would actually volunteer. After a few knocks, he was set up with a bag and a—uh—whatever those track sticks were called. He was sporting a new pair of Sharpedo-themed trunks with a company-branded t-shirt on top. It was purple. But it didn’t bug him. Red and blue were manly colors, man!The towering Incineroar beside him, clad in a flowery sun hat, was similarly equipped. With a few dozen wrappers in his hoard, Biscotti turned toward his companion. “Hey, Jangle.” The Incineroar knew that tone. When she turned, her face was full of suspicion. “Want to make this fun?” A shrug lifted the dark type’s shoulder as her brow lifted. Biscotti, knowing her competitive streak was almost as bad as his, continued. “First to triple digits picks dinner?” A rumble of assent emerged. The game was on! With a mocking bow to each other, the beach cleaners shot off in opposite directions. His ever present shadow, the Runerigus grammy, followed closely behind. Honey eyes scanned the beach like a hungry Talonflame, hankering for any items for the trash heap. A discarded can here. Some shattered plastic there. The remnants of a takeout container. As the numbers climbed, he became more focused on the task at hand. She better not be cheating! Knowing her, she’ll just tear things to tatters.89….90…91….92…
Ugh! There wasn’t much on this side! Which, on second thought, was a good thing. Scotti didn’t want any dead Caracosta on his watch, after all! Then, he hit the jackpot! Someone was lying on the beach up there and totally had tossed something in the sand. An empty soda can? Sweet! Walking up, he moved to jab the pointed stick through the aluminum. The fact that someone was right there didn't really register. He gave the stick a celebratory wiggle. “93.”
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