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Post by Wesley Yates on Dec 24, 2010 17:56:13 GMT -5
[/b][/div] 34 | male | TR Elite [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,505,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i55.tinypic.com/2ed15oy.png);] • • • • •
There were only a few things that Wesley could say he truthfully despised. Most things hovered somewhere between 'ignore' and 'crush underfoot'. However a few select things, a tiny little amount of dislikes that Wesley loathed with such a passion, were so far down on the list that they crowded around 'maim and drown with a fiery rage'. Interestingly enough, kids fell into that category. Wesley hated the little demons. They were nothing but whining, complaining, screaming bags of flesh that needed constant supervision in order for the human race to continue. No sense, no knowledge, just endless pools of stress and infuriation. So, Wesley couldn't help but wonder if his boss was trying to inflict some new and unimaginable sort of torture on him today, forcing the man to have to "escort" her teenage daughter around the city for whatever the reason. It had made Matsu City his literal hell on earth.
He kept a forced smile, trying so hard not to ditch the little empress in the city to fend for herself. That would be a one-way ticket to true unimaginable torture, he was sure. No. No matter how much he'd like to pawn her off on some other poor grunt and go about his own business Wesley had to keep his agitation under control and suck it up. He didn't want to be responsible for someone else's slip up, which he considered worse than having to be responsible for one obnoxious little girl. This entire day was just one spiraling bowl of horror.
Wesley idly scratched his Houndoom's back, relying on the dark Pokemon to not only guide him, but also keep an eye on Eugenie. What good was it sending a more than half blind Elite member on a babysitting job? Wesley could barely make out the shapes of the crowds without colors blending together, let alone one lone blurry little girl. It was hell, his proverbial hell, and she was his punishment. What he did to deserve this he had no idea. All Wesley knew was that he was glad he had decided not to wear the thicker and fancier clothes, opting instead for a long sleeved white button-up, the top two buttons left undone, with a light brown long sleeved v-neck over it. With all the running around he was bound to be doing he would come to appreciate the thinner clothes.
His eyes glanced to his side, searching for the familiar blur of the young girl. Trouble. Endless trouble. "Well," Wesley sighed, putting on a little smile. "Where to?" He hoped there was something worth while at the end of this for him. Either way, this was the last time he agreed, whether forced to or not, to take the boss's daughter into the city.
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[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] [/td][/tr][/table][/div] Word count: 458 // Notes: Eh. Eh. I hope I didn't get the tags wrong in the title. [/center] |
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Post by EUGENIE STATHAM-FUJIMURA on Dec 24, 2010 22:28:20 GMT -5
i said release me, TRY TO LEAVE OUT THE LOVE THAT GOES AGAINST THE GRAIN [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,460,true][atrb=style, background: url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v723/Inra/1215bright.jpg); padding: 5px;]
❝ Eugenie Statham-Fujimura was not particularly fond of Wesley, but, all things considered, she was not particularly fond of anyone. (Fondness was a word that was reserved for specific things. Of those specifics, she counted her mother, the occasional friend, and her Hitmonlee. Naturally, her list of 'favored people' was uncannily short.) The Fujimura CORPS, while infamous, were also faceless for most normal people; nobody knew Eugenie Statham-Fujimaru, and she liked it that way.
Most of her life revolved around money, but not talking about money, because it wasn't normal. Although she went with escorts, they were people being paid to entertain her—sort of like breathing, talking chauffeurs! Wesley, for example, was there to explain her schedule, pay her tabs, and answer her cell phone. Of course, there was about nothing fun to him, and he had a face that would shame the greatest old man. (As a matter of fact, Eugenie made a bit of a nickname out of the insult, since he A.) needed to learn how to interact with people and B.) was damn boring.) She imagined if he didn't want to, then he could just complain about it or go away. Clearly, somebody needed to give him the number of a good surgeon. The stick up his ass must have been painful.
Yawning before folding her arms behind her head, she murmured a dry, "Jeez, I got the old man . . . mm?" Watching him linger behind, all sleeved cuffs in the height of spring and 'please-dear-lord-shoot-me' grins, she found herself tempted to tease him. Before she used to worry about how he was blind, and 'oh, I'm so sorry about that!' but, hey. His bad attitude and years of being at least kind of familiar made her not really interested in niceties. (As a matter of fact, on one of their so-called 'adventures', she managed to get away from him for over three hours. But, with her mother's scary temper, Eugenie saved him by insisting they'd been together the whole time. Firing him wasn't really worth it, since he was . . . okay, she guessed.)
"Mister Yates," she added easily, before smiling with a flourish, "Thank you very much for having me." Eugenie trailed to silence, sniffing in distaste at his houndoom—fire types made her uncomfortable—and stopping dead in the walkway. Her high heels ceased to click on the cement, arms crossed and lips pursed while she swept blonde from her eyes.
"Ahem," and she cocked her head, wearing a brilliant smile and being as poisonously sweet as possible, "But I think this is too much work for you. I wouldn't want to give you more gray hairs. Feel free to leave any time, sir. Like—now!" From this moment on, she had made it her duty—no, her privilege to leave him at every corner, every crowded crook of each shopping district she wandered to.
It was what he deserved, being so rude! A fake smile is fake, and she wasn't interested in being lied to or treated as less than what she was! |
[/blockquote][/size] ❞ [/td][/tr][/table] words 509 tags AKIRA & WESLEY notes NONE. credits samedi release me. [/center]
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Post by Akira Harata on Dec 24, 2010 23:26:13 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,400,true] | [atrb=background,http://i924.photobucket.com/albums/ad86/nitroart/akiratablepart2copy.jpg]
Click Clack Click Clack
The sound of the hurried footfalls of running echoed off the floor of the warehouse. Red eyes staying trained on the door that was sliding shut, the dark colored dog that was always with him made it through first.
Almost there!"
The kid did a slip and slide under the door right as it slid down the final inches. It would've worked better, had the extra cloth of his jacket not have got caught.
" You there! Kid!"
The voices of the grunts could be heard. Probably having bee alerted by that loud alarm sounding off. " Damn..." The mightyena quickly tried to help the boy struggle out of it. He made it, but not before the three grunts could surround them. The boy just smirked though. Did they really think they'd be caught?
" Bandit" The dog didn't even need a second command, it immediately went for the nearest of the men, biting deep into his leg, releasing he spun around sharply, tackling the other,allowing the blond boy to scramble away. The other grunt stood shocked as the boy and dog ran, a testament to all of their stupidity, before giving chase. It was too late though, it didn't take long for them to find their way out.Akira was good at what he did.
He sped into the town and down the sidewalk. Suspicious maybe? He didn't care too much. He could've easily been one of those guys, rushing because he was late for a date or something. He didn't know, he wasn't necessarily your average teenage boy. Though it wasn't as if anyone was going to take the time to stop and ask him.
Unless he were to run into them, which...of course he did. He looked up, a little late, a man, too see a man houndoom and a girl, and probably running into one of them, if not just barley missing them. " Sorry."He mumbled a quick apology, that sounded more than just a little unapologetic as he picked himself up from the ground, brushing himself off as he prepared to try and make an explanation. It shouldn't be too hard.
wc: 371
song:iridescent-linkin park
Notes: Very, very bad sorry D8 I was in a rush when i typed it.
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