maybe I'll be as famous as the man who can't be moved
Characters: Lance (caped_elite), Will (masked_elite), (elite_bookworm) and Cynthia (chomperchamp).
When: Directly after this conversation.
Where: The Pokehouse formerly known as Whipstaff.
Rating: PG. Lance keeps it classy.
Summary: Lance and Will have a pokemon battle to let off some steam. Shit hits the fan. Will tells Lance that he's actually not the Will he knows. Shit goes down. Cynthia goes after Lance. Lucian goes after Will. MORE SHIT HITS THE FAN. Seriously pokemon drama is serious shit.
Lance was angry. Furious, really. And the only target that was large enough to hit without causing actual harm to anyone was Dragonite, who was staring at his master rather incredulously as Lance's fist connected with the creature's chest.
A soft warm breath and a cold nose to the cheek forced Lance out of his anger for a moment and Lance exhaled carefully, slowly. Dragonite cocked his head to the side, observing Lance carefully, before looking towards the back door of the manor with narrowed eyes.
He's coming to talk to you. Calm yourself and get control. You're behaving like a six year old, not like yourself, Lance.
"Sorry," Lance said absently, out loud, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away from the manor, staring intently at the garden wall, forcing himself to remain calm. Calm. Centered. Focused. Like he should be.
When: Directly after this conversation.
Where: The Pokehouse formerly known as Whipstaff.
Rating: PG. Lance keeps it classy.
Summary: Lance and Will have a pokemon battle to let off some steam. Shit hits the fan. Will tells Lance that he's actually not the Will he knows. Shit goes down. Cynthia goes after Lance. Lucian goes after Will. MORE SHIT HITS THE FAN. Seriously pokemon drama is serious shit.
Lance was angry. Furious, really. And the only target that was large enough to hit without causing actual harm to anyone was Dragonite, who was staring at his master rather incredulously as Lance's fist connected with the creature's chest.
A soft warm breath and a cold nose to the cheek forced Lance out of his anger for a moment and Lance exhaled carefully, slowly. Dragonite cocked his head to the side, observing Lance carefully, before looking towards the back door of the manor with narrowed eyes.
He's coming to talk to you. Calm yourself and get control. You're behaving like a six year old, not like yourself, Lance.
"Sorry," Lance said absently, out loud, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away from the manor, staring intently at the garden wall, forcing himself to remain calm. Calm. Centered. Focused. Like he should be.