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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette nodded at John’s greeting. His own smile slid into place—his anxiety making him readjust it. The salute is met with a half-hearted, similar gesture. If that was a military thing, he didn’t want to be rude. But a twist of his scarred hand turned that motion into a stuttering wave. “Same!” Then, there’s another pause. “I mean about it being nice to meet you. My name isn’t John.” With a heavy sigh—a familiar gesture when he introduced himself—the baker finished quietly, “It’s Biscotti.”

The Incineroar decided to do a few stretches of her own. If the bug wanted to show off, she could do the same. Lean muscles rippled as the cat threw both arms over its head. These were then stretched to the side. Her fingers rippled as deadly claws burst from their tips. As the man introduced the bug type, Jangle offered it a single, passive glance. That snarl earned a smoke snort and little else.

Those eyes bore into his soul like some—uh—well, giant bug with scythes for arms. His heartbeat sped up as his gaze traveled from the grumpy bug to his own cat. “Yeah, uh, sure.” He smiled and waved. Hopefully, the fire stuff comes in handy.

John Sullivan

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]“Pretty good?” Honey eyes blinked twice. It almost looked like John had been speaking in a foreign language. “You know it’s a biscuit, right?” Even as he said it, the brunette felt almost guilty. His big sis had it worse. A lady with a name based on creme fillings couldn’t go long without some perv cracking a joke. Then, there was Sarspirilla—good luck spelling that in a pinch. And, of course, that didn’t exactly lend itself to a nickname. He could get away with calling himself Scott if he wanted to.

At the talk of fun, the brunette looks to Jangle first. It seemed kind of dickish to just say this stuff was fun. It wasn’t like he was getting punched in the face right now. The cat nodded. “Yeah! Totally!” Biscotti chuckled. “And, I don’t mind losing. It gives somebody else a leg-up.” It felt nice to be useful once in a while. Most of the time, he was good for nothing but stammering and putting his foot in his mouth. Judging by the twist to Jangle’s lips, she didn’t feel the same.

As the Scyther drew near, the cat unleashed its inner heat in a fiery Flare Blitz.

EYkjXYq9

John Sullivan

☉

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[attr="class","bisc"]The comment made him wince. That kind of name wouldn’t be fun either—though, wait a second. “I’m pretty sure that’s Johnson[/i.?” Realizing he was trying to correct a guy about his own name, Scotti reddened. “Or, uh, I’ve only heard ‘John’ used for bathrooms.” Which isn’t much better. Though, in his case, a bathroom would be way more useful right now. "Which isn't saying much." Listening wasn't always his strongsuit.

The Scyther’s return to close quarters surprises the Incineroar. Bushy black brows jerk up as the gossamer wings burst through the screen of smoke. She gasps. “!?” Was this bug suicidal or something!? The flames collapse—the recoil hitting her deep in the chest. Like the world’s worst heartburn mixed with a derailed train.

Muscular arms bunch as she turns her knuckles outward. This Cross Chop puts her arms within the blade’s reach, but it’s better than getting slammed into by 50-plus pounds of killer mantis.

ajEmxvrV + 15 (Terastal)

HP: ♡ ♡

John Sullivan

☉