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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette grins back. He’d been so obsessed with the idea of fighting a Smeargle that he forgot that this was a pretty person. All of that came crashing back in. “I—uh—you too, Siotti.” That smile froze at their next words. “Wait, what do you mean by—?” He turned to where his Incineroar dozed. His cheeks flared a deep shade of red. At that time, a familiar head of maroon hair turned the corner.

“Biscotti!” His sister shouted at him. A few words of Paldean slipped out—not super nice ones. “You couldn’t wait two more minutes!?”” That grin shrank into an awkward smile as he shuffled his shoes. “Sorry, Cannoli.” With a frustrated mutter, the woman took her spot at the counter. The idea that this person wanted a dessert never crossed either of their minds.

The sound of the stall’s door being slammed woke up the Incineroar. “Hey, JJ! You ready?” A cavernous yawn followed as the cat wiped at her eyes. A toothy yawn showed off a hot, glowing core. She waved off his brewing apology as she squared up against the Smeargle. Once the sleepy-eyed cat was squared up, the boy took a deep breath. “Let’s try a—uh—” What worked against normal?

“Cross Chop!” For once, satisfied with his choice, the Incineroar listened.

BTUY7Zu|

SIO SOTÍ

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]Red trainers shuffle awkwardly at the asphalt. Labrador eyes drop worriedly to the cobblestones at his feet. The earlier pink tinge spreads like tulips across a Nordic plain. Do I just say I mixed my words up? Just go with it? Is it too early to apologize? Though his immediate impulse is to beg for forgiveness, it feels out of place here. Especially with Cannolli watching. One word of regret from him and the whole family would know by the time this battle was over. If he just played it cool, she might not even notice. She’d be too busy being pissy at him.

Biscotti’s words are a pained whisper. “Yeah, it uh—I thought it was, you know, cute.” Gods, that sounded worse. “I’ve gotten bored of the yanno, versus stuff?” He doesn’t need to turn to know his Incineroar’s face has vanished beneath a striped palm. Luckily, he’s saved from this awkwardness by some good old-fashioned violence.

The Incineroar didn’t expect the little dog thing to spring at her like that. Thick arms throw themselves upward as the Smeargle attacks. “JJ!” Biscotti manages to get the Tera Orb open on the first try this time. The dark type is washed away in a sea of maroon crystals. The super-effective move is downgraded to a pretty good wallop. “Hit back!“ He quickly scrambles through the moves his friend knows. “Drain Punch!”

Aiming to regain some of that lost HP—and her dignity—the cat throws a glowing paw at the Smeargle’s face.

KfhSI3r0

SIO SOTÍ

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette clings to his awkward grin like Leonardo Decaprio to a floating door. “Uh, yeah. Cute.” He takes a deep breath.

Inside, he curses himself six ways to Sunday. “That’s what I said.” And, well, it wasn’t like he could take it back. That’d be implying that they weren’t cute. Which, for most people, was a way worse insult. Another awkward chuckle follows. “Interesting?” His labrador eyes browse the area around him, looking for someone cool. “Me?” Nobody had ever called him that before. Not without him mutilating himself for their entertainment.

Though he isn’t sure he likes the nickname—since it reminds him of a strip joint back home—he doesn’t protest. It isn’t like he can. It was his big mouth that started this whole mess. Distracted by his own awkwardness, Biscotti’s attention isn’t fully focused on the battle in front of him. The next thing he knows, the painting dog is laughing at Jangle. Which wasn’t a good idea.

The giggles just rub salt in the cat’s wounds. Two-toned eyes narrow as the feline’s mouth parts in an irritable hiss. Keep me down? Fat chance, Pablo Picasso! The cat rushes forward in an attempt to outspeed the ghost-type attack. Even if she fails, her indignation will let her shrug the pain off. At least long enough to close the distance between them.

As she nears the Smeargle, she lashes out with a Cross Chop.

fMLHciDI

SIO SOTÍ

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]Energy pours back into her beleaguered frame. A sickly, green light ripples up her form as her body stitches bits of itself back together. A few bald spots foll with freshly regrown hair. There’s a smug sort of satisfaction as the Smeargle goes down. If she disliked anyone, it was trolls.

The cat doesn’t buy those crocodile tears. It wasn’t like this little shit starter hadn’t moved first. Like a lady in Aristocats, Jangle rarely started fights. But she did not hesitate to finish them. A snort emerged as she took a step closer. A single whorl of smoke poured from her ebony nostrils as her claws emerged from her paw pads.

Just as expected, that pity party ended pretty darn quickly. Up went the weird, painter dog with that gleam in his eyes. Since he didn’t attack, she figured she had something up his sleeves. With a wicked smirk, the cat unleashes all of her heat at the dog in a powerful Blast Burn. The earlier drained HP took the edge off the attack as the hearts on the heads-up display started to blink.

If he wanted to plagiarize her every move, maybe it was time to use stuff that didn’t hurt. And, hey, that rest period went both ways.

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SIO SOTÍ

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]With the mandatory rest period, there’s no dodging that attack.

The paint splatters across the big cat’s skin. Like lava, it instantly draws up blisters. Black claws lift to irritably brush it off, only mussing her fur farther in the process. But the pain is way less than that earlier fighting attack. So, in that sense, the ploy was successful.

Now, the goop drips from each of her fingertips like craftroom blood.. A bit of the spray covers her natural mask, forcing the Incineroar to close her eyes. When she opens those blue beauties, anger’s apparent. If Jangle hates one thing it’s getting messy. Saberteeth jut past her bottom lip as she glares at the troll.

Like a bullwhip, her tail slashes through the air behind her. With a grunt, Jangle rises to her feet. Then, in the next instant, she’s blazing like a meteor toward Quill’s torso. Though there’s recoil to consider, there’s only one heart left. It was time to push that advantage! Which, judging by what happens next, works in her favor. As those first flames lick at Quill, the final HP point vanishes on Sio’s end.

With a sigh, the Incineroar flickered off. She stuck out a paw for the little simian-dog thing to shake.

Biscotti, meanwhile, grins. A whoop of excitement escapes as he rushed toward Sio. “You guys did awesome! I’ve never seen a Smeargle punch someone before!” Reaching in his pocket he offered up a shiny piece of paper. “Here!” Sure, it wasn’t a gym badge, but he liked to think free doughnuts were better.

And, uh, maybe it’d make up for cutting her off earlier.

SIO SOTÍ

☉