pickett prances around her mudkip friend, puffing out her chest because she's so very pleased with herself for doing the bare minimum after not helping slevin at all for nearly half a mile. he's still breathing hard in the sand, struggling to catch his breath because he's laughing with giddiness. 

"ah, man, i love lady fate," he laughs, completely ignoring nina's pleas to wash off. 

when pickett stops her skipping, she does so only because she wants to nibble on the chili on his shoulder. and only chuffs annoyedly when nina throws herself back onto slevin, grossness be damned. 

"excuse me, i was running for my whole life and besides, if i looked where i was going, i wouldn't have landed right on top of one of my favorite people in the world." he pats the side of her head affectionally and snuggles her closer. 

where have you been?

he sees a slamming door and hears shit for brains and deadbeat and don't fucking come back til' you got somethin' to show for it and he laughs and he says, "eh, missed the crazy.

"went back to unova, but didn't wanna miss the party here, y'know? and i missed you too, cutie." he picks up sand with one hand and holds it up so he can watch it fall in his peripheral. 

"wanna go for a swim? and you can tell me what you've been up to?"

nina larson

☉

pickett noses her way out from a pile of laundry. a few doritos are stuck to her fur, but she's not interested in them considering the yum yum burger grease smell that managed to rouse her from sleep. 

slevin plops himself down on the floor and flips open the trays, keeping a keen eye on dogbreath. pickett is a polite lady and sits by slevin's side, drooling on his pants while she waits for the inevitable fry and chunk of burger meat he's going to toss at her. 

"uh uh uh, started at hektic, then went to slim's, then, uh, sidon's? i think? went swimming. don't ask. and woke up sandwiched between a gorgeous pair of tits and a really hairy ballsack down on third. what'd you get up to?" he says as he chomps down on half of his burger in one bite. 

he moans euphorically and pickett licks at the grease dripping down his wrist. 

Anton Belov

☉

he's hungover as f u c k. the sunlight hurts. everything hurts really. he's sporting a couple of bruises on his side and if you asked him where he got them, he might combust trying to remember through his headache. fuuuuuuuuhck. 

it's not the worst walk of shame, but the dude was certainly prettier last night after, like, twelve drinks. oh well. not the ugliest he's waken up to. 

he smells like burger grease and fries, which makes sense, because he's got half a dozen to-go bags of cookout in his hands. no doubt anton also needs a pick-me-up after the weekend. 

the lock hasn't worked for years now so he doesn't bother fishing for his key. just kicks the door in to announce himself, stepping over piles of dirty laundry and stray beer cans in the living room.

"yo, fucker, wake up. i got breakfast."

Anton Belov

☉

in that split second before their second impact, somewhere around wrestling pickett closer to his arms so he doesn't send her flying, he tastes blue fruit barrels and the sting of too many sour patch kids. and then, very quickly, he tastes sand. 

"nina?" he yelps, voice rising an octave as one of the wingull goes to peck at a corn chip on his back and damn near hits his ass instead. he flounders, trying to scramble off of her, but also not really, because he has to duck his head when more of the feathery beasts converge. 

kipkip runs to their rescue, erecting a barrier that provides them a brief reprieve. pickett shakes out her fur and narrows her eyes at the beach rats. warning yips turn quickly to teeth-bared snarls and the wingull eventually decide their prize isn't worth the cost. 

slevin thunks his forehead down against nina's shoulder, consequently remembers he's still crushing her, and then rolls off to starfish in the sand. 

"my savior. fancy seeing you here, nini."

nina larson

☉

"fuckin' damn it," he says while he runs, pickett under one arm. the zorua wriggles uselessly against him, but she doesn't actually try to get free, because the alternative is that she'd have to fight off the horde of wingull that are coming after the two of them. 

some asshole kids thought it'd be funny to throw nachos on him after he very fairly won against them in a card game. three-card monte, yes, and pickett happened to sneeze while he was in the midst of his sleight of hand, but that is besides the point. 

now fast-forward here and he has one arm out to keep the brutes at bay, the other tucked around pickett football style, and his head turned around to watch for any oncoming dive-bombers.

so he completely fucking misses the blast from the past that he tumbles into on the shoreline. 

nina larson
mission: don't feed the gulls
surprise, mf

☉