I.... hope the sandwich-ception is okay, considering that it's been a long while since the last post, and the original replier above me got their account closed. ^^"
if this is considered rude or violates the rules, let me know and I'll take the post down! (I just wanted to bump this thread at the very least wheeze-)
Brown was quick to circle the girl and her panda Pokemon, her nose clearly upturned as she eyed the duo with a sense of disgust. That was expected for someone like her, but even then... It could've been worse? There was, after all, that sense of restrained respect that the woman exhibited as she considered the fact that such a small girl had the command of a Pokemon considered large and powerful.
"Admirable," she remarked with a smooth smile once her steps stilled. Tittering ever so softly into her knuckles, the woman looked up at the bear with a faint twinkle in her eyes. "I do not know exactly how you two were paired together, but I have the feeling that you have great potential as a trainer, young miss. Maybe you might not be inclined towards battles, but... It is obvious that you have a tight bond with your Pokemon, and that you two are inseparable. And in a way, the Pangoro acts as your bodyguard. It knows you the most out of everyone with the exception of one other person. I also heard that you two found each other through... A tea party, if I remember correctly?" The twinkle only grew as she continued to chuckle, and though it was easy to misconstrue her perception as contemptuous, there was that genuine note of regard in her tone even as she spoke.
With a sigh, the middle-aged woman mused further, "You know, I doubt that there has been much research done on Pokemon-trainer communication, but... The fact that you, young miss, can completely understand what your partner Pokemon says is a feat in of itself. I own several Pokemon, four professionally and two as companions, and even I sometimes fail to notice their signals or body language. I reckon that it is normally a process perfected through trial-and-error over many years, but... You... You seem like a prodigy in that regard."
For once, she seemed at peace, because the girl did remind Brown of when she was a younger woman, when she didn't have to feel so jaded about everyone. She didn't have to worry about her career, or how her husband would look at her every time she wanted to do something that'd upset him. No, not at all. It was just her learning about fossils and the various Pokemon that could be retrieved from them. She remembered reviving an Archen as a young woman, and though she had to later donate it to a museum, she still looked back upon that little bird fondly.
She blinked for a moment, snapping back into reality. Oh. Brown's smile faded in favor of an embarrassed grimace as she rubbed the back of her neck. How dare I project myself onto anyone else, let alone... A child?
"The bow on your Pokemon's head is quite adorable though," she remarked with a hint of wistful air, though it was certainly colder than before. She looked off to the side, her eyes clouding as she sighed and gently settled her fingers against the crook of her elbow. "It... It is an intriguing contrast. A small little bow on such a brute of a Pokemon... And that Pokemon is paired with a small reserved girl... It is unusual, but it works out. Perhaps I should try that with my own companions sometime, hm..."
tbh rip both of them considering that Roswell accidentally pressed the angst button by doing that diebejebsjsnsja- but everything works out?? ig?? who knows.
THAT ASIDES. I’m off my ass. I finally reveal The Thing™. I type too much in a long ass follow-up. :”)
When it came to the body language of a dog, terror indicated that it was inevitable before it lashed out, before it bit someone. It tended to be preceded by a growl, or a snap. The ears would be pinned back, and the whites of the eyes would become visible as all focus was shifted to the other party. Then, if it wasn’t left alone, it’d escalate to a bite, and when a bite was made… There was always the metallic, bitter taste of blood on the tongue. Sometimes it tainted the teeth too, but the taste was always there. It wouldn’t be a snap any more at this point. It’d be a full-on bite.
Brown had every reason to be terrified, though the reason wasn’t necessarily related to how she was being treated at this very moment. True, the fact that she was even being stroked this way took her decades back - when her husband spoke to her in a similar manner and tried touching her hair in the same way too. It was why she was so, so tempted to just lash out and immediately deck Roswell in the face. One of her hands even balled up into a fist as she eyed him, and said fist was raised up by an inch. Just an inch… Besides, back then, she couldn’t punch Skinner, even if she really wanted to. He’d just laugh it off, or use it as an excuse to further make her feel like she was the one at fault for everything. The punch would be useless; there was no point in doing so.
Besides, punching the Crow would be useless now, as well.
Not only would he also laugh it off, but that wasn’t the same touch the jaded woman was so accustomed to. It was too tender, too warm. Skinner at least placed a firmness in his tactile gestures, where his fingers would curl around her hair as he ran them through it. They told her that she was a dog, one that was both adorable and inferior at the same time. But this one? This one was a little too brief. She didn’t know what to feel about it.
“You’re a damn fool if you think I consider this so-called ‘beauty’ a blessing,” Brown spat with gritted teeth, “Most people hate me, for allegedly killing my husband. It is only you and a few others who think it would be funny to try taming a wolf. A beast.” There was almost a hint of desperation in her voice, but she bit it down for her sake. “It was a funny joke for a bit, I must admit. But now the punchline has been made, and you… You’ve wormed your way into someone more… Admirable.” Well then.
She raised a brow when Roswell recounted how “feisty” she was, how prone she was to snapping. But not biting! It was admittedly bizarre in retrospect, as she remembered how she’d always try to make the fights fair. If her opponent ended up faltering, the woman was quick to call off the brawl, even if she could easily finish the job and slice his throat. She even remembered the time that the dagger was presented to her, and she hesitated as to whether she’d actually kill Roswell with it. There was no answer then, and there was no answer now. Maybe it’d be best left as a question with no reply.
Biting down on her lip even more than before, Brown just sighed, “Well, at least you’re honest. It’d explain why you always want to piss me off. It works, just to let you know.” She let out an empty laugh before taking a step closer, for some reason. It wasn’t like she inherently disliked the attention, though she still managed to flinch when a hand was placed under her jawline, and her cheek started to be stroked. The most the woman could really explain from this was that she felt… Ambivalent. All those words reminded her of the sweet nothings her husband used to tell her, but at the same time, she did at least take comfort in the fact that Roswell was upfront about why he liked her in the first place. Unlike most other potential suitors, he told her that he was interested in the money she had, and that was immediately more tolerable than those who tried to be sincere but failed miserably.
“Why, because you want to take something from me later on?” she asked with a hint of bitterness, though there was also that inflection that suggested she was just teasing, “I have actually never seen you try, to be honest. You only seem interested in the former two, but… Obviously, I know so little compared to you.” The aristocrat chuckled again. Another step closer.
Was she going to punch the shit out of this poor man? After all, that fist from earlier was still clenched. Or maybe something else was planned, as Brown now held Roswell’s wrist in place. There was a sense of delicacy in it - mirroring the tenderness of the previous stroke; she could’ve easily just twisted it to the point that she could hear the snap of bone ringing in her ear, but… No. Brown looked off to the side as a finger started to gently stroke the base of his palm.
“I do not even know how you really think about me half the time,” she admitted after a long period of silence, “But if my instincts are right, and I am not being lied to… I want you to know that your feelings toward me are not one-sided, Roswell.”
