"morning, babe!" noah sprints closer. the vigor is contagious, and he finds himself attracted to that magnetic pull.

although the physical distance is illusory, there is no fantasy about the reunification. even the trivial absence of a night drains noah with thoughts of what could be and what could have been.

"inspection was okay. no, it was actually pretty shitty." noah sighs, his gloves still bare of weapons. "we apparently missed a spot when we cleaned," he jokes, "'cause my gumshoos found a bunch of cascoons in the corner of a closet." this revelation, of course, is no jest, and quite expected despite noah's supposed diligence in cleaning duties.

"coming over later?" a couple of spawns appear in the same volcanic field they stand upon. "what if i say no?" he sticks his tongue out as he pulls out his falchion.

kyle lopez

"without distractions?" he says.

noah is smacked by a heatmor's tongue. remnants of flame grow like flowers on his armours before disappearing. he retaliates with several strikes of his sword.

as the heatmor falls, hunks of hardened lava drop on to the cracked ground.

"yeah, if it was any other game," noah tosses his falchion from one hand to the other like a baseball, the weighted handle, "the distraction would be somewhere else."

he whistles, looking for more spawns.

"i've been solo leveling by the way. are you proud of me, man?"

kyle lopez

"oh shit. pokedonalds?" playing the part to ridiculous ends, noah shakes his hips as if wagging a tail.

but the metaphor converts. he raises his sword to the sky like a batter at the ready.

"you promise?" his forehead glows. at least, noah feels like it does. while he charges for the darmanitan, noah calls back: "we can dress up! feed each other fries!"

as noah takes down the darmanitan, he makes a performance out of it. god knows, noah has experience in showboating. his sunday's best in flashy, obnoxious combat. expending all of his mana for spells and show, noah fells the lucky spawn with a ROCK WRECKER.

frozen in place, noah grins as loot falls like confetti.

kyle lopez

"nothing wrong with cheesy." noah attempts to budge his arms, but they fidget in place as if stuck on ant tape.

the shotgun rounds hit their mark. a long low slithers off the camerupt's thick tongue as it falls to the earth. he thinks of hamburgers— and bathroom stalls, then their next movie, the comfort of sinking into one's sofa, cushions worn down by end-of-the-day freefalls.

being stuck in self-imposed stasis invites such mundane thoughts. he laughs and shoots kyle a fiendish look.

"i can have a cheat day." finally, his seized arms fall to their natural bends. "wanna go now? i'll meet you at the pokedonalds closest home?" he means kyle's, the connotation lingering on his tongue with fond flavour.

kyle lopez