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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2018 0:55:55 GMT

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A cold chill would wash over him, clashing with the heat for the briefest of moment, winter giving a hint of its forthcoming. This sent his mind to wander, thoughts of winter wear on the mind.

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Bella didn’t have any scarves or coats except the wardrobe he had bought last year, and of course, they were all outdated. He couldn’t have her wear outdated clothes, what kind of trainer would he be if he did? A bad one that’s what kind.

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Then there was Uaid, all he needed was a scarf, but what kind would look cutest… Ah, and on that note, he’d need more food, the teddiursa eats a whole lot this time of year to bulk up. As quickly as he thought it, the image of the baby bear chubbing up made the ranger swoon, the cute but pudgy figure of the cub flooding his mind.

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Boo could handle herself, she didn’t need any clothes with her being a fire type, but he has a new member, Elad… what would look cute on an egg…? Maybe some mittens, a scarf, and a hat? He’d have to think more on that.

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His thoughts would consume him as he walked down the busy streets after exiting the home he had stayed at that night located in Rustboro. His feet would move on their own, heading to his next location as quickly as they could, until he saw a face.

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His thoughts would dissipate, his eyes would shoot in her direction, and his legs would move in a different one, his body turning in sync, and a light smile implanting itself on his own face.

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“Hey cutie.” Those simple words being the only ones the exit his mouth as he stopped in front of her.

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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2018 1:48:00 GMT

the sound of shouting and too loud tvs follows danny as she exits the bar. the chill of the afternoon hits her slightly too warm face and she can't help but sigh into its caress. she lets the easy feeling it inspires carry her, slow and gentle, from the door until she can lean gently against a pay meter on the opposite end of the sidewalk.

her fingers on either hand take quick turns scratching the scabbed surface of her almost-healed knuckles before her left hand dips into her jeans' pockets. a moment later she plucks out a box of cigarettes, taps one out of the pack, and pulls it out with her lips. nothing goes with a buzz quite as well as a quick smoke on a quiet street. she lights the end and inhales with purpose, it's an almost intimate thing. when she exhales its with a strong sense of contentment she can't get enough of. she thinks she could stay like this forever.

it's too bad then when someone comes along to ruin it.

the greeting of "hey, cutie" makes her skin crawl as soon as it hits her ears. her once peaceful face turns twisted and sour as she looks in the direction of the call. she sneers at the sight of some boy who looks like he smells of perfume and money.

"fuck off, i'm busy," the words are a pointed shutdown, followed directly by the business at hand as she takes another drag from her cigarette.

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giz

golden boy

cute

twenty-seven

september 23

slateport city

najwa

narcissist

who knows

311 height

let's come to terms- and embrace it. concur, admit, concede, and face it. i'm cute~

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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2018 16:31:49 GMT

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Yes, he did in fact smell of both of those things. Colognes don’t smell as nice as perfume, and honestly he preferred smelling pretty and not like a middle school boy that hasn’t bathed in days. And money was no stranger to him, they were good friends actually, but impressing her with his sweet smell and fat wallet wasn’t what he was here to do, he was here to make a new “friend.”
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The smile continued to stain his face, her words seeming to do nothing to phase him, the violet haired man staying his place, even after the harsh words aimed at him.
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“You sure don’t seem it.” Amber iris looked her over slightly before speaking once again. “Hang around bars often, or just when you’re ‘busy’?” His lips would curl upwards slightly more, aiming to jab her a bit.

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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2018 17:49:15 GMT

"listen," her voice is tight, the words themselves come in the middle of an inhale. before she continues she turns her head in the stranger's direction and blows the cigarette smoke she'd been holding in at his neckline. the flowery smells coming off of him burn her nose, she hopes that will cover it up a little. hopes it pisses him off, too.

"bars, this cigarette here, that's my business," as she speaks she wiggles the burning cigarette between her fingers, "if i'm in one o' 'em, or i'm sittin' out here smokin' one o' these, i'm busy." when she talks it's like she's trying to inform a toddler. her voice is slow and pitched up sarcastically. this boy's not from around here so she figures she ought to give him a chance to turn tail and get out of her face.

with that said she looks away from the boy again. hopefully the next (and last) thing she hears from him is footsteps in the direction of anywhere-but-her.

kim cole-essam

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golden boy

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twenty-seven

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slateport city

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let's come to terms- and embrace it. concur, admit, concede, and face it. i'm cute~

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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2018 18:51:06 GMT

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Cigarettes were not exactly his preferred method of relaxation, he’d preferer light meditation, or just being alone, a healthier alternative to nicotine. But vices are vices, and to deny others that simply for his own comfort would simply not be fair. He’d listen to her as she spoke, his mouth closed into a smile, it growing slightly with every word that came out of hers. Her turning away only made him that much more set on getting her to properly talk to him.

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Footsteps would indeed be heard, his shoes pressing into the surface of the sidewalk, only for them to stop in a different position, moving into her view once more.

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“So, from that, right now I’m your business, right? I mean, you seem to be doing your best to push me away, so energy is going into doing that, much like it would to go into that bar and drink, or take a puff of that cigarette.”

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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2018 20:26:14 GMT

her patience grows thinner by the second. he steps into view again and her eyes narrow, she tilts her head up to look him in the face as she takes another puff of her cigarette. every time he starts talking it gets under her skin. the way he smiles as he does it and the vapid connections he draws between what she's said and what he wants make it clear he thinks he's smart. he thinks he's clever, boxing her into a corner. she decides it's about time she make it clear he's not.

"oh i'm not pushin' bud, not yet," she blows smoke again, this time into his face, "and you're not my business yet; but if ya don't get lost pretty quick here ya just might be."

she stops her leaning against the meter to stand straight, not the biggest difference -- it certainly doesn't even their heights out -- but it's not meant to be. she just wants him to know she's serious, because she'd feel awful knocking some dandy on his ass when he wasn't expecting it.

kim cole-essam

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let's come to terms- and embrace it. concur, admit, concede, and face it. i'm cute~

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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2018 21:08:37 GMT

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The smoke would be blown directly back, a chunk of the cloud being sent spiraling towards her face in retort, a hint of teeth being shown within the playful grin of his.
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With her standing at her full height, his heart would skip a beat. She got cuter and cuter by the second. That mean personality, that baby face, and to top it off, the height difference between the two.
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And now, she seemed to be getting serious, perfect. He was fully ready to receive all that she was willing to dish out. If she could continue to open up to him in any way, he would be willing to take any pain.
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“Please do.” He’d say, the playful smile still remaining stagnant on his face.

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POSTED ON Oct 5, 2018 23:23:41 GMT

there's a moment of reconsideration between her warning and his response. she thinks for a second that perhaps she should just walk away -- this smug asshole just doesn't know what he's doing. he's not from around here, doesn't know her face, doesn't know her reputation. he's used to getting his way but so is she. maybe she could just shrug him off and walk away. give him a freebie. then he shoots her that condescending smirk again. looks down his nose at her and invites her anger.

it would be rude to deny him. she drops and stomps out her cigarette before speaking.

"fine," for a moment she thinks about planting her fist in his face, taking direct issue with the curl of his lips, but the scabs on her knuckles groan at the thought of that much contact with bone. instead she sets her feet and throws a punch at his stomach. it's quick and hard; hopefully painful enough to let him know who he's dealing with and get him to consider leaving.

kim cole-essam

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giz

golden boy

cute

twenty-seven

september 23

slateport city

najwa

narcissist

who knows

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let's come to terms- and embrace it. concur, admit, concede, and face it. i'm cute~

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POSTED ON Oct 6, 2018 0:02:52 GMT

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A little known fact about Kim is that since birth he was groomed to be an officer, of course he’d know how to handle himself in a fight, let alone a petty scuffle.
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Her hands would begin to sink into his stomach, only to slip to the side, the slightest movement forcing her jab away from him and into air behind, the man making his way forward in the process; closing the gap between them that much more. His hand would grip the wrist used to deliver the faulty jab, doing his best to raise her hand into the air, letting go quickly afterwards, sending a wink her way.
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With him still being close he would look downwards at the girl. “Someone as cute as you shouldn’t be so violent.” He’d tilt his head to the side, as he backed away slightly. “But I get it, I provoked you. ...But I have to be honest, seeing you like that made me fall for you a bit more.”
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He’d chuckle, tucking his hands in his pocket, looking back to her. “How about you give me a proper chance to talk to you this time… without the violence of course.”

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POSTED ON Oct 6, 2018 2:47:42 GMT

kim cole-essam likes this

the punch she throws feels like it connects only to glance off the stranger; and she's not sure how it happens but she goes stumbling forward, only to be steadied by the boy's grip on her wrist.

he lets go and she snatches her hand away in the same moment, making the gesture somewhat exaggerated and awkward. anger is now bright in her eyes when she looks up at him. his movement closer to her doesn't help her mood any more than the missed punch or the unwanted contact that followed.

"i don't give a fuck what ya think i should be doin'," she almost literally spits the words at him, "and i don't know how much clearer i can make it that i don't give a fuck about how ya feel for me either!"

a very big part of her desperately wants to try swinging at him again, but she doesn't know if it'll go any different than last time and a smaller part of her knows if it doesn't it'll just wind her up worse. she needs a level head if this boy is interested and a better fighter than her.

"whatever, say somethin' worth listenin' to and i might skip blackin' your eye," she says the words through gritted teeth. telling him to fuck off, blowing smoke in his face, and throwing a punch at him didn't get him to leave her alone. maybe he just needs to be listened to and his pride will be stroked enough to get him off her back. thinking that might be the case she takes out her pack of cigarettes again and pulls out a fresh one.

she won't get through the sound of his voice without something to take the edge off.

kim cole-essam

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giz

golden boy

cute

twenty-seven

september 23

slateport city

najwa

narcissist

who knows

311 height

let's come to terms- and embrace it. concur, admit, concede, and face it. i'm cute~

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POSTED ON Oct 6, 2018 3:55:33 GMT

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“How kind.” He said in a quiet voice, clearing his throat afterwards.
[break][break]
“Well first, let me apologize for my first words towards you. ‘ hey cutie’ was not the proper greeting towards a young woman, and for me to think it is, is an even bigger problem.” A light bow of his head in apology would follow his words, the sincerity of them seeming legitimate. “I hope to make it up to you.”
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“Second, I seem to have made you angry, and while I had fun, it is unforgivable. I may not be able to take it back, but again, I will do my best to make it up to you.” He’d clasp his hands together, a calm smile appearing on the previously remorseful face. “Now, I’d like to properly introduce myself.”
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He’d outstretch a hand towards her in an attempt at a handshake, only to reveal a flip lighter within, sparking it as to give a light to her cigarette. “Kim Cole, or whatever you want to call me, as long as you do call me that is. And again, sorry for the rough start. I hope we can still be friends.” His smile would turn a bit cheerier as he continued to hold the ignited lighter in her direction.

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POSTED ON Oct 11, 2018 23:48:19 GMT

his apology can go fuck itself as far as danny is concerned. her blood is boiling and she doesn't believe for a second that he's being sincere. who just walks up to someone and provokes them without knowing what they're doing? the little tip of his head doesn't make her feel any better. she's not royalty or anyone in a position of authority, she can't even hurt him, so why the fuck is he bowing his head to her like it means something?

"fuck yeah ya made me angry, and like fuckin' hell i'm gonna accept some half-baked --" danny starts going off again only to be cut off by his offering of a light. like a child she considers slapping it out of his hand, but ultimately she relents. whatever. she guesses a lighter is as good as an olive branch. if he's going to help her tolerate his bullshit she might as well indulge him. she leans down and shields the flame from the open air with one hand and uses the other to steady the cigarette in her mouth. once it's lit she steps back and stands up straight again.

"wouldn't count on a call 'kim cole'," she says his name with an unsubtle note of mockery, "definitely wouldn't count on friends. i'm only listenin' to ya 'cause ya can't take a hint and i can't beat your ass."

notes: so sorry for the wait! i know it's not an excuse but i was really struggling to get in the right head space for danny posts the last few days ;;

kim cole-essam

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golden boy

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twenty-seven

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slateport city

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let's come to terms- and embrace it. concur, admit, concede, and face it. i'm cute~

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