"Was' hap'n!" Chancelor calls out to the group bombastically—a fleet of Pokémon accompanying him. Suddenly, his attention is snapped back behind him, a yacht with a menagerie of women waving at him as it passes by; the seafaring vessel of impressive size honking at the youth as well. Pikachu, on the shoulder of Passimian waves frantically at the women, blowing them kisses and chirping at them even though his little voice had no way in reaching them from this distance. The Youngest McQueen waves back, throwing up a high peace sign followed by the universal sign of phone to ear to the women waving farewell to him upon the extravagant deck of the yacht. Turning his back to the Clan, he grins, further approaching with various items between him and two of his Pokémon he used as pack mules—these Pokémon being Machamp and Passimian.

"Aight' peep game." He says, both him and his Pokémon dropping bags by the bonfire. "I've been fasting for three weeks and have been eating clean for four months. I don't know about y'all, but tonight, I'm gettin' down on some ribs." The youngest McQueen booms, pulling out an apron and the supplies needed for a prime-and-proper barbecue. "I even got my pops secret sauce and everything! Y'all ain't ready." He shakes his head in jest, pointing a barbecue fork at each and every one of them dramatically, only to find himself stopping at Noelle Lane . "Okay! I see you, El. Out here lookin' like a bikini model." Chancelor boasts, winking at the Dragon Princess before putting on the apron, which read: 'Twerk For Da' Chef!' in big, bubbly, and colorful graffiti letters. "Oh, that's right. I almost forgot." Chancelor snaps his finger, gesturing for Machamp to hand over a neatly wrapped present to mateo martinez . "Happy birthday, bitch-boy. May ya' punk ass live another dwagonly year. rawr rawr rawr." He says mockingly, growling at the group with his fingers mimicking that of claws.

Pikachu jumps into the airs of Noelle and snuggles with her, whereas a large Pidgeot soaring overhead perches itself on a piece of driftwood and watches the interactions between the humans. Machamp gets the grill ready, and the brotherly Passimian greets Morgan Drake Pokémon.

✝ tag(s) - @dwagoncwan
✝ notes - the gangs all here ! rawr xD !!!

Pikachu is happy to be in Noelle's arm, her bosom and soft skin like a pillow to the long-eared rodent Pokémon. Well, that was until she called him 'hefty'. The playful nature of the Pokémon ceased almost instantly, like a baby that couldn't be bother, he just didn't want to be cute nor snuggle anymore. It also didn't help that she almost dropped him when Adam showed, he just wasn't filling it anymore. So, he removes himself from the soft embrace of Noelle, walks across the sand, and lays on the spacious back of Passimian—someone he'd knew wouldn't hurt his easily hurt feelings.

"Gimme that," He snatches the gift from Kyle, before pointing the barbecue fork at Mateo. "You dirty bitch!" Chancelor barks in old dragon tongue, tossing the palm sized gift back to Machamp to look after while he continued to put together the barbecue pit. "How dare you have your concubine touch something I got you." Chancelor would have continued to pummel the idjit with more insults, but the arrival of Adam took the young fighter for a huge surprise—It ain't ever day they all get to lie eyes on the fabled Phantom Dragon. "Ain't this some shit, I could be on my death bed and he'd find a reason on why he can't see me off to the next life. But let it be this mongoloid's birthday and you appear like an absent father!" The pointed tips of the fork are now pointed at Adam, Chancelor grinning despite his little rant. "Favoritism," he concludes it with that, heading over towards Machamp to help with the building process of the grill so he could get this cooking on the road.

✝ tag(s) - @dwagoncwan
✝ notes - the gangs all here ! rawr xD !!!