A Promise

[Warrior Poet]

Well, he had promised. The rat fink son of a nazzing staja reject had ripped his leg apart with his mother-nazzin' teeth, but he had promised. And so, still limping, with his leg still in stitches, the crutch he hated to use tucked under his arm, Alexander Wysocke decided it was time to fulfill it. Wysocke the Great was a fox of his word. It'd be interessovating to see how this played out, really.

In his pocket was about two hundred dollars in bills, their serial numbers noted by the police. Apparently, his delightfully sociopathic benefactor had not been a good little boy. Nevermind the britzvah, the man was obviously used to fighting. Possibly to the inevitable conclusion of said physical arguments, when one seemed as blood-eyed as that little ray of sunshine.

Well, the promise was that he'd get the bills back into circulation, thus voiding the police watch. Which was just fine with Wysocke, because that meant buying cal, and buying cal meant buying liquor and party implements. Parties were good.

So now Wysocke was hobbling around in the gas station quik-mart whatever thing, grabbing chips, soda, and a bottle of vodka. He had a buddy waiting in the car outside, but the guy was likely to just fall asleep if Wysocke took more than two minutes, having no clue how much time had passed. Alex called it 'time travelling.'

A quick glance to the register confirmed what he had already noted upon entering the establishment. The girl with the night shift was cute. Very cute. And only half of it was the 'attractive' cute. The other was.... What was that word?

Alex's ear flicked in irritation as he stared at the ice cream selection and tried to think of the word he'd heard his foriegn-language-obsessed friend use. It meant someone or something so cute in some way or another that they make you smile whether you're weak for cute things or not. At the higher levels, you about melt....

M. It started with an M....

Alex grinned, looked over his shoulder at the girl again, who happened to look up at him and give a slight smile before looking back down at the counter she'd been staring at the whole time. That smile was nazzing awesome.

His lips parted, the word he'd been looking for passing silently through, an exact discription of the situation.

"Moe...."

((Pronounced 'mow-ay' for those who don't know....))


Alex kept his grin, looking back at the ice cream. Vanilla looked as good as any, but he'd been thinking about something a little more out there.... He remained, trying to decide, not noticing his pain meds were starting to wear off.

[Pyre]

((No one else has claimed this thread, so ish mine. XD You get to meet a character I never RP with. ))




"Hell, where are they?"


A feminine of considerable less allure swore under her breath, pacing one aisle over. Her black hair was disarrayed, her pale fur stained with dirt, her eyes wide and moving too fast, almost like she were high or insane. Or desperate.

She pulled a bottle of 5-hour energy from the shelf, then immediately grabbed two more, one eye squinted shut as she spun around, heading for the refrigerated things at the back.

She didn't really seem to notice the fox, though her eyes missed little else. Camera in the corner, partially hidden by the boxes piled on the shelves. She wasn't trying to steal from here, but habit made her keep track. She opened the glass door, her free hand clasping around the neck of a dark bottle. Caffine and beer aren't supposed to mix, but she could do far worse. She just wanted to stop thinking!

It was hot and humid in here, and she was irritable. She bit down on the bottle cap, a popping sound as she pulled it off and took a long pull. She'd pay for it still.

"If they're late I'm starting without them," she hissed under her breath, turning around to watch the door.

((And before you ask, yes, most of my characters ARE completely psychotic. ^^;; ))

[Warrior Poet]

The muffled, mild obscenity caught Alex's ears. The voice was nice. He immediately began imagining all manner of beautiful women that the voice could belong to, then imagined them all falling for him. At once. That would be awesome. And, because he was Wysocke, it was completely possible, given 'the Wysocke effect.'

He looked back to his ice cream, trying to remember what he was doing. Being a womanizer was amazingly distracting. Oh, right. A flavor. A flavor of holy crap when did that start hurting again?

Alex grimaced, looking own at his leg. He was wearing the same pair of pants from the wonderful event. It showed off his battle wounds admirably. There was movement behind him as the girl from before passed his by. Hmm. That bottle. Interesting. Must have been some new thing. He didnt know what was in it.

He then followed her hand, grasping the bottle, up the arm, to the shoulder, neck, face. She was.... something else, that was for sure. Pretty, in a rugged way, he supposed. He rapidly moving eyes concerned him for a moment, thinking it might be some kind of fear-based reaction.

After cocking is head a moment to study her, he frowned slightly. No, not fear. Perhaps.... Nervous? Meeting someone? Some one she never met before and hoping to be liked? Someone she liked? He blinked and raised his eyebrows, looking away slightly as he mused over that possibility. There was no way in hell she'd be meeting someone she liked looking like that.

Wysocke turned back forward, leaned his crutch against the glass, and leaned back against it before using his good leg to give a slight jump, after which he shifted the pull of his own graviational field, to 'lie down' on the door. It was somewhat easier to hold his stuff that way.

In the back of his mind, Wysocke had already decided vanilla was flavor of the day, and so put that aside. In the meantime, this girl was interessovating. Ah. Speech was such a wonderful thing. His ear flicked as he heard her hiss under her breath. Only slightly. Something about starting. Starting what? Starting where? Oooohhhh, now Warrior Poet Wysocke was curious.

"Good evensong, oh thee dvotchka." Good start. Where from there? Yes, perhaps a slight smile. "A horrorshow nochy to viddy were this hen-korm veck given slovo." The slight smile turned into a roguish grin. "What's it gonna be then, eh?"

[Pyre]

Long before he spoke, Ashton had felt the hot rake of a pair of eyes scanning her person. It was odd how you could feel something like that. Her eyes narrowed, quickly darting to the source.

The offender's orbs were a green of unremarkable shade. You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes, but at the moment she couldn't think much beyond that he was staring at her. She tried to glance over the rest of him--skinny, not as buff as she liked them, odd stance, what the hell was wrong with that leg?--but her eyes were drawn almost immediately back to his own, still staring of course. Now she was all for men looking at her, but for a woman in a dangerous city on her own the stare was presently unwelcome. She gave her best spiteful glare back. Usually if you stare at someone long enough they gain the decency to stop doing it themselves.

Instead the fox had the courtesy to open his mouth in greeting. But what came out was the strangest splurge of absolute jibberish she'd ever heard.

"Eh...I don't speak Norwegian." Her words slurred just slightly though her mind still felt irritatingly sober. "Eyes to yourself, foxy." She slowly raised the bottle, taking another swallow just to show off. Something about a woman drinking heavy alcohol seems to make the woman look tougher. Or something. Maybe she was confusing women with men, or maybe she'd spent too much time around guys to really tell what she was supposed to do anymore. A proper woman, she supposed, might just walk away. Then again, a proper woman would probably be sober enough to walk away in a straight line right now.

He was smiling politely and earnestly at her. Creepy little fox.

[Warrior Poet]

Clearly, she was not amused. Still, that did not mean he could not make her so. "Awww, that's so sweet. You called me foxy. I always knew I was adorable." His grin went from roguish to mischievous, slight a difference as that was. "I was starting to lose faith in my inner cutie. Made me old tick-tocker a sad little thing."

His smile shifted again to show that he was being quite sarcastic. It only took his face to show that he was commenting on her obvious initial dislike of him. Which was fine. There were quite a few girls he knew that disliked him simply because he was so well liked. Those types he could deal with. This girl, however, he did not know well at all.

Slowly, using his crutch, he rolled over and began to stand 'up,' balancing his things on his chest as he held himself perpendicular to the floor. From there, he equalized himself, swung a leg back casually to rotate his body right side up, and reset himself, dropping to his feet. And then remembered his pain meds had stopped, nearly collapsing if not for the crutch.

Alex said the first thing that came to mind. "Bet I look even more adorable all pathetic, huh?" An impromptu addition of tylenol was added to his shopping list, which he briefly considered before rejecting. He didn't want to know why vicodin and tylenol didn't mix. He grimaced again as a new wave of pain shot through his leg.

[Pyre]

Ashton's ears had perked, and her expression had undergone a wash. Now she just sort of looked at him, her face an indistinguishable mixture of sympathy, apathy, and disgust. Well, perhaps apathy fit best. She was mildly drunk, after all.

Which was why she kept questioning what her eyes kept telling her they'd seen. The man had pulled off some seriously mind-bending stunt that would make Spider-man proud. She glanced from him, to his leg, to her dark bottle--still relatively full. I should probably lay off this stuff.

Funny. Her brother could walk through walls, but she had trouble accepting that someone could stand on them.

Now that she thought about it, he actually did. Look adorable that is. In a crippled sort of way. Funny how that worked. She smiled and shrugged. The bell at the front rang and car wheels screeched somewhere outside. Ashton drifted off, mind pleasantly blank for a moment.

"What the hell did you do to your leg?" she murmured, finally dragging herself back. Okay, no more drinking. She snapped the cap back on, mentally cursing herself. Can't do a job right when your tipsy. Though sometimes it helps shut up the sensible side of you. The one that tells you to knock it off.

[Warrior Poet]

Wysocke smirked when he saw her smile and shrug. Exactly what he was going for, which was odd, because this was usually when Murphy's Law reared its ugly head. Calling his attention away from his leg, Alex stood up a little straighter and leaned more heavily on the crutch, eying with disdain the things that once were in his arms but now decorated the floor. He'd pick them up in a bit, zero-gravity style. Speaking of....

In an ingenious bid to take the weight off of his leg, Wysocke set his gravitational pull equal in all directions. The heavy leaning on his crutch caused him to rise a few inches off the ground, which was fine. His parachute pants probably covered that up. Messed up as they were, he liked them. They were like the scar ravaging his leg. Proof of the battle fought. Not that he would mention it was a total curb-stomp battle. He'd pad it so that he looked like he had a chance.

His ear flicked as the girl asked about the leg. "Ah...." Alex's eyes looked up a bit as he stroked his fauxhawk a few times. After a deep intake, he looked back down, saying, "Riiight. I did nothing to it. Some big cat thought it was a chew toy." There was the basis. If she wanted to know the whole story, she could ask. He'd have his first shot at spinning the story.

[Pyre]

There was the fact that Alex appeared to have spontaneously sprouted an extra inch, but Ashton was disoriented enough to not even notice. She ran her tongue over one sharp fang, feeling for an old cut along her gums. She weighed the bottle in one hand, thinking it sure seemed lonely all by itself. "...Oh, you mean a feral cat? Some tiger 'scape from the zoo or sommat?"

"The idiots in this town. You should carry a gun, save yourself 'lotta trouble." She eyed the array of goods on the floor, thinking about picking them up, but an odd part of her said she'd rather watch the cripple have a go at it. As long as she was stuck here, she might as well get some entertainment out of it.

Score one for the fox, she was mildly curious.

[Warrior Poet]

"Ah, about that.... Ya know, dvotchka, perchance he did, young malchick as he was." Alex leaned the crutch against one of the low shelves, bringing up his legs as though he was sitting in some armchair, steepling his fingers. "A zoo indeed. Heh. I should govereet that his way. Veck'd prolly flip a b*tch like bezoomny." A slight malicious grin, quickly reset to his usual charming, somewhat flirty one.

"Anywhoo, to return to vesches at hand, it all started when I, your humble friend and narrator, decided, 'Hmm, tonight's a nice night to show off,' for I do ever so love showing off, in case you didn't notice." Here a tilt of the head and a smile as if to say, 'If you haven't noticed, where the heck were you the past five minutes?' "So, I jumped off a building. Slowed myself down, and landed like it was nothing, in the middle of a crowd. Oooh, that was fun. Lit a cancer and off I went. Then Your Humble Narrator ran into him. We made slovo, that is, we had words, and he convinced me to follow him."

Wysocke leaned back in the air, turning his body into slow, lazy sommersaults. "Turns out he wanted to test himself. His mettle versus my gravity control. Only over myself, mind." Shrugging, he said offhand, "What was I to know the guy was comepletely peanut butter banana sandwitch crazy?" Crossing his arms, the fox ceased his rotation, sitting upside down upon nothing. "I got some shots in, he got some shots in, I got the upper hand by using a wall. Backed against it, he charged, I rolled up it like a ninja on steriods and got the drop on him. Nazzing veck. His response? Bite me."

Here, he stuck his leg up, allowing the pants to fall back to about his knee. Easily visible was the souvenier Pyran had left him. "And as soon as I got him off, he got me in the riznahs." With a slight effort, Wysocke righted himself, turned around, grabbed the crutch, and landed. Much more gently than last time. Come to think, he actually could have stood a chance if it wasn't for that. Lucky nazzing.... Either way, he still got the money.

[Pyre]

Ashton suddenly burst out laughing.


Gravity control! That was a new trick on the block! And suddenly she wanted this guy. Pyran had warned that there were people who would try to use him. And Ashton was one of them. Her blue eyes were alight as she looked him up and down with new appreciation. The leg was a problem, but not that much of one. Not with that trick. He didn't look strong, looked kind of pathetic actually, but how far could that ability take him?

It hit her that Wysocke could take her look the wrong way, and she suddenly decided to play off that. She knew she hadn't tried very hard this morning, hadn't bothered with a shower or her hair or even her wardrobe. But after being wasted the night before...eh. She knew she was still a looker. A few days' neglect can't hide a good body. Or the guys at the Cage wouldn't have kept buying her drinks. Ugly dogs.

"Bit you," she repeated, flabbergasted. "Who the hell have you been playing with? Hope you got your rabies shots." She fought back another laugh. Poor guy. He could get into a lot of trouble in this town. Be a shame for this kind of talent to end up dead in some back alley.

"You wanna go for a drink?" she asked suddenly. She glanced at the bottle in her hand, then smirked faintly. "Or coffee." It would make her late. Oh well. Scorch could go burn.

((Oh, sweet! You know, you could get involved with the plot Sonic and I are starting now. If'n you want.))

[Warrior Poet]

((I'm for it.))

Pyran had warned. But she was a pretty girl. And pretty girls were Wysocke's achilles heel. So Pyrans warning could go kick rocks, and this pretty girl could enjoy more time with the amazing Warrior Poet Wysocke. And now she hit on him. What could possibly go wrong?

"Do you know, my dear, I would like nothing better. Apropos rabies shots.... Perchance, indeed, this course of action is highly recommended, that is to say, it shall be done at the earliest possible convenience." He had completely forgotten about the stuff on the floor. That was fine, it wasn't like he actually cared if he made more work for the girl working here. He could probably even play that off if he wanted to.

Ah, no, he could just show off again. Going zero-G, he leaned forward, allowing the crutch to fall against the shelves again. REaching down, Alex picked up his failed shopping and turned himself upright, then pushed off the glass door that held the ice cream. Lazily floating over a shelf to the cieling, Alex's good leg pushed him slowly down into the aisle where he began to replace the assorted products.

Reaching for a shelf, he yanked on it, sending him flying out of the aisle, only to grab an edge and slingshot around, back to his crutch. "That kind of thing is a lot of fun. I wish you could try it." His head tilted. Theoretically, she could. Could she? Hmm, that was worth a test later.

Again, he righted himself and grabbed his crutch. "Shall we, m'lady?"

[Pyre]

Ashton laughed, partly on cue and partly because she was truly stunned. Exhilaration or maybe the alcohol was making her mind spin. She held out an arm to Wysocke, the one free of his crutch, her other hand clutching the bottle that for some reason had become mysteriously empty all of a sudden. Well, if she wasn't going to be working today, why not have a little fun?

She was careful to match her pace with his on their way out the door. And she even remembered to drop a few dollars on the counter before she left.

The feel of the concrete underfoot was unusually acute just now. The smells of the city, sickening and coy, filled the air like sweet poison. A cab driver was shouting profanities from the other street, a man with a cup and a sign ("I need beer") was sitting against the wall. A few pedestrians, tourists by the way they were taking snapshots of everything, were headed in the opposite direction. Ashton leaned slightly against Wysocke, as if to clearly stake her claim that he belonged to her today, and led him down the walk.

Yes, yes, yes! She couldn't believe what she'd found. It was like gold, an ignorant chaos user with gravity control in a city that was presently beat-up, run-down, and ripe for robbing. Add her own ability to the mix...well, she liked to keep a few surprises up her sleeves. Maybe she'd show off later.

"So, fox," she said suddenly, dropping the empty bottle on the walk for the street sweeper to worry about, "where abouts are you from, anyway?"

[Warrior Poet]

"Hoo," Wysocke commented on her interesting choice in recycling locales. Bad girl. This could be all kinds of pleasant. He looked at her again, sizing her up a bit. She looked like she might be old enough to drink, but there was no way he could be sure without straight asking her age, which, as any man knew, was tantamount to swallowing arsenic with a cyanide chaser.

On the plus side, she was now slightly enebriated, which could lead to all manner of interesting conversation. Speaking of, she was asking about him. "Born and bred locally." He could tie that into a farming joke if he tried hard, but decided against trying, mostly for the sheer stretch it would require.

No, it had to be done. "Keeps the flavor better. See, you ship a product around, every little place tries to tack on their take. I'm not some suitcase from a nineteen-nineties saturday morning cartoon. Stickers look terrible with these shoes. And nobody goes to cucamonga anymore anyway. Besides, my blood tastes like cookes. Come to think, that's probably why Pyran was so tenacious. Delicious cookie blood will drive anyone crazy."

There were several kinds of verbose with Alex. Something about this girl seemed to trigger his 'long train of thought loosely connected and voiced aloud' rants, as opposed to his normal nadsat chatter. He would still throw it in, naturally, but his speech patterns evolved to fit the female. Hopefully, she'd go for it.

[Pyre]

((In response to the cbox, I actually was heading for a coffee shop. Buut...heh, Lamp Post sounds more fun.))

Ashton's eyes were closed, black ears perked attentively, a small smile across her muzzle. She laughed lightly partway through, though it wasn't clear whether she was doing it to humor him or if she were actually enjoying his rambling speech. Well, she generally favored the strong silent type. But nervous, limping, rambling fox with the accent was endearing in his own way. Then suddenly she stopped. "Pyran?"

She knew that name from some...oh.

Her grip tightened around his arm. "Get that rabies shot. I'm serious."

The wind tugged at her hair, bringing with it a sudden turn of scents. Before it had just smelled slightly unpleasant, like a fast food restaurant might be. Now it smelled like rotten wine (which is odd, since wine is already rotten), old blood, and traces of sewage. They had reached her part of town, and the smells were like home. Graffiti covered the walls, street signs had been turned into singular metal posts, and even the hobos had the sense to hang elsewhere. Ashton's smile had returned and she went on confidently.

"Born and raised here, eh? Not from the city, though, I imagine?" If he were, he'd have to come from the East side.

[Warrior Poet]

((If she favors the 'strong silent' type then she just hit the polar opposite, like trying to find a hockey rink and winding up in hell.))

"Whether or not I get a shot depends on how that shot'll mix with my chocolate chip blood cells. By the way, my name's Alex. Alexander Wysocke, to be all proper and what not. I know propriety is very high on your list of must-haves." Alex shrugged with his free shoulder, limping along next to the fine young lady who kindly slowed her pace for him. That was actually an amazingly good sign. If they didn't care, they'd never show the courtesy. She was interested in him for some reason. Because he was an optemist, Alex decided to choose to believe that it was because he was charming, funny, and amazingly good-looking.

Then Wysocke grinned. "As for my upbringing and geographical locations thereof, my parents brought me up at the complex downtown," he explained, referencing the apartment complex that was half 'howdy neighbor' and half 'give me your money.' He was brought up on the bad side, and currently had his own apratment elsewhere in the complex. "I got my own apartment later, and they moved away. Since then I've been crasting to party and pay rent." Likely she wouldn't know what crasting was but that was fine. She could ask and he could be all mysterious.