Sigurður "Sigur" Gunnarsson
Santalune City Pokémon Center
Party:
(Bál)
...
Well, in a way, Sigur had been right; things really hadn't gotten worse. No, they'd gone straight to
Hell in a goddamn
handbasket.
The chaos had started when some strikingly posh and blindingly
pink dude had decided to command his little toothfairy-on-a-dandelion to perform some form of an attack on Bál, likely in an attempt to make the thing let go. Not that Sigur even noticed that at first, being far too preoccupied by some blonde chick who somehow managed to both freak him outta his wits
and hit on him, all in the span of about two sentences. Seriously, maybe he'd just lost so much blood from his leg that he was hallucinating, but he could have
sworn that there was one item in her laundry list of 'girlish things rich people enjoy' that didn't
quite belong. Sigur's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he quickly forgot about it when she literally jumped to completely other topic.
So, rolling his eyes at the hat-shopping comment , he turned his gaze away just in time to see someone in a black hoodie exit the Pokémon center as if to try and run away from something. ... Huh? What, did the person rob the place? Great. Getting involved with a criminal on the run was just what his day lacked so far.
"That goes for you too, handsome," he suddenly heard from besides him, not immediately connecting the 'handsome' part to himself. Not that he didn't consider himself fu
cking gorgeous, alright, but he didn't exactly expect to hear it from someone random he'd just met two seconds ago. Slightly taken aback, Sigur could simply groan a bit in response, averting his gaze. Usually
he was the one bothering people with random, reaction-fishing lines like that to see how they'd deal, and he didn't exactly appreciate it when the tables were turned.
"Hat shopping adds to the list of things funnier than Pokemon Training."
"...Yeah, sorry," Sigur commented as if on reflex, shoulders raising into a casual shrug, voice dripping with its usual amount of sarcasm. "Would
love to spend my day picking beanies with you two, but I'd just
hate to be late from my shoe shopping spree. So many heels, so little time, you know?"
'Two'... oh, yeah. The flashy, pink dude. Yeaaah, it's not like there was anything wrong with going against the norm and donning pink or whatever - you do you, O flamboyant one - but when you started to look more like an overdressed Jigglypuff than a guy, then, yeah, he was going to at
least co
ck a brow. Besides, the guy looked rich as hell, so he likely deserved whatever was coming to him. Most rich folk around here seemed snotty and overly fashion-conscious to begin with. And then there was that little fairy thing that--- was... smirking. At him. Sigur blinked in disbelief as the thing turned to him, releasing a glistering gust of wind
straight at him. Or his leg. Whatever, it was
pink and it was
coming!
Scrambling to try and get out of the unknown attack's way, Sigur cursed and nearly stumbled as he struggled to stand, not sure whether he was more concerned over the attack hitting him or enraging Bál enough to bite off his entire leg. Because she would. She fu
cking would. Sure, she
could've also let go and tried to eat the fairy instead, but he wasn't about to find out which option she went for.
And within a second, it turned out he didn't need to; from out of absolutely nowhere, some chick dressed in all black (seriously what
was it, some themed 'wear only one color to school' day?) emerged to
take the attack for him. Which, you know, was all romantic and
shit, except he was pretty sure he should have
known the person first to properly mourn their heroic sacrifice. So, great job skipping that part, Juliet. Instead, he was left staring at the coughing girl, utterly dumbfounded and still slightly crouched, having been interrupted mid-straightening. What the hell was that chick thinking? What, was she the masochist that complimented the other girl's sadism? Did he land himself in the middle of a comedy act? What. The.
Hell.
With the gust having been intercepted, the air was now filled with pink dust and a sickeningly-sweet scent that Sigur was sure no amount of washing would ever cleanse, and things seemed to be calming down enough for Sigur to already start preparing for a snarky comment. Before he could choose one from the plethora of options available, though, the masochistic girl beat him to the punch.
"Damn, Andre, you fu
cking a
sshole!"
Well, he did have to concur with that.
"Gaius. Tail, Ice Fang."
That... not so much.
Once again very,
very concerned for his well-being, Sigur quickly backed away from the approaching pooch... thing, not sure what sort of attack was gonna be unleashed on him this time. Except that it involved ice and fangs, neither of which he could claim to particularly
like.
"What the ever-loving
fuck is wrong with you a-," he began, aimed at everyone who'd had their little critters try and attack him so far - and anyone who would in the future, if that was gonna be a thing. Of course, he couldn't finish even half of what he wanted to say before he suddenly felt the air around his leg cool - and then suddenly felt the pressure on his leg vanish as Bál's jaws unwrapped from around his flesh and muscles. Naturally, the sudden shift in balance left Sigur quite ungracefully falling backwards onto his
ass, leg cramping and butthurt. Literally.
"Grr... bleh!" the small dragon challenged, having jumped away from the attack's path just in time and now intently staring down both of his attackers, who she quite clearly intended on taking on alone. Unfortunately for Bál, she never quite did get the chance; having turned her back to Sigur she had also dropped her guard, and he wasn't about to let an opportunity like that pass. So, grabbing the little thing by its head fin, Sigur pulled himself to sit, making sure he kept the struggling and growling dragon far enough from his face to keep it from scratching him or something. Thank god it had such tiny, pathetic arms.
"Oh no you
don't," Sigur announced, shaking the Pokémon a tad and getting an even louder growl in response. Once he made sure her mouth was directed away from him and that no amount of flailing would free her (something good came out of Bál tiring herself out by knocking out every Pokémon she could find on Route 3), he finally allowed himself to sigh, subsequently turning his glare to the three other trainers present.
"... What," he more stated than said from his spot on the Pokémon Center's floor, "is this the part where I'm supposed to
thank you? Because I still haven't decided between being thankful and
cussing you the fuck out."
There was a pause, one he used to cough at the still lingering scent of whatever the fairy-thing had unleashed onto the world. "But you know, lemme make a compromise. I'm
all for compromises. Gotta love getting along and all that."
Sigur pointed towards the blonde girl at first. "Hats? No. Any other article of clothing? Also no. I'm not getting anywhere near your shopping spree and I
suggest you don't tag along with Mr. 'Puff over there either, 'cause he's going to outshine you in every dress you try on. But
thanks for the offer." And, speaking of which... he turned to the pink dude - André or something, right? "Yeah.
Thanks for trying to choke me on that pink, sugary
haze. Because you know, I'd much rather die inhaling that
shit than lose a leg. Priorities. Great. At least you got 'em straight."
Finally, he turned his glare to the girl clad in all black. "You know, Juliet, I'm all for tragic teenage love and everything, but next time, try to pick someone who's read the script. Less heart attacks for me, less choking on sugary-sweet fairy farts for you. Unless you're into that
shit. In which case, refer to the hat chick. You two'd get along great. But
thanks for the near-frostbite, I guess."
Sigur sighed, grumbling to himself in pain as he tried to stand. Yeah, Pokémon training really was such fun, alright.