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If there's already a thread like this, please go ahead and let me know!
So the point of this game is very simple! The character below you will ask your character for a favor. This favor can be anywhere as simple as stepping aside for them on the street, to as difficult and insane as asking that they take a hit out on a mortal enemy, or to as silly and ridiculous as putting a pineapple on their head and doing the "I'm a Little Teapot" dance. Whatever they want it to be!
Then, you edit your post to have your character's reaction to the favor, whether it be positive or negative!
Rules
1) PLEASE MAKE SURE TO CLAIM A POST FIRST. This is to ensure no one gets ninja'd, which we all know can be super frustrating!
2) Let's stay away from any insanely NSFW favors, alright? Lightly suggestive is alright, but I would prefer to keep this thread open to everyone if possible!
3) Make sure you post IC, and that your favors and responses are written IC!
If I need to update these rules, I will!
Have fun everyone!
"Thanks for listening. I just...school is stressful," Zinnia exhaled, propping her head up with one of her arms. She stared at her free hand, exhaling as her gaze remained on her fingers. The pastel-colored coat of polish appeared fresh, asides with a few signs of it chipping away. She then squeezed her nails against her palm, tilting her head up slightly.
"I'd...love to talk to you again. If I brought over a snack, maybe we could go outside next week? Like a cake, or—or, uhm, anything else? I could even bring drinks!"
The younger girl beamed as her head craned forward. Her hands were now clasped together, abruptly moved from the top of the table to her lap.
"I mean, if that's cool with you...but I'd really appreciate it if we did that."
-----------
NP, here's Zinnia's dA ref if that helps!
Zinnia glanced over at Johnson, blinking rapidly as she maintained her surprised expression. She was listening intently to him, yet the proposition came at a surprise
"Excuse me, you want me to what? Just because he did it... doesn't mean that...I will...Ooh...I didn't know he did that. I should probably get him to apologise."
Johnson, unfortunately, still remembered the time the girl gave him that sweet, sweet wad of cash- Oh, fuck it. It wasn't like the aristocrat - basically rolling in opulence that was both inherited and earned - needed money in the first place. In other words, it didn't matter shit as to whether he received a few dollars, or a few million dollars; it was just a drop in the bucket for a man who was never satisfied, but at the same time... He was impressed by the girl's generosity, albeit for all the wrong reasons.
With a sniff, he circled her. This time, he was the one initiating the interaction, yet the middle-aged man didn't bother to even try scanning her face before hissing between gritted teeth:
"You're nice, aren't you? Perhaps a bit too nice for your own good. You have no idea what you're doing sometimes, and the fact that you gave a literal aristocrat money is... Quite convincing, to say the least. I'd rather be slapped in the face by someone like you than be given another cent, got it?"
Reverse psychology, in other words, was one motherfucker. However, Johnson didn't expect a slap in the face - or even more money. (Though it wasn't like he'd be complaining that much if he received either - since he did kind of ask for both either way.) He merely expected a favor from the girl, and he shifted his feet as he prepared himself for his next bout of words- Oh shit. Oh fuck. That was never a good sign with the older man, who made sure that he was the one controlling the conversation.
So much for asking for a favor, then?
After a pause, he asked her with a silky, saccharine voice, "But... Before we inevitably never talk to each other again... How about you do me a favor? Just a quick one, really. It won't do anyone any harm, except maybe your dignity if you mess up..." His mouth slowly curled into a wry grin as he eyed her with that disgustingly suspicious glint, as if he was more than ready to do it himself if needed. "You know that friend of mine? The fossil collector whom your... Friend flipped off a while back?" Oh no. "I want you to do the same thing to her. You know, giving her the middle finger. It'll be quite the shock, but trust me. She's less inclined to beating up a woman than a man." That was shitty reasoning, and he knew it.
"Perhaps if you go through with the favor, I'll give you some money. Nothing is too much for me, as long as it's reasonable. But I can definitely give you more money than vice versa, and then we'd be even. It's just natural; it's just how it's supposed to work. From an aristocrat to a young girl, I can only say that it's all rational, proportional decision-making..."
gotta love how everyone's low-key dying from angst for the most part, and then meanwhile there's the cake saga, and now the cat saga. bless you fizz for this good content. and also the tonal whiplash is funny to me, so fdgvdfvsdfv-
time for a follow-up.....
To be a bitch, Johnson almost would've said that Nathaniel should probably haul ass and go over to Brown, who was actually a cat person. The middle-aged man, meanwhile, wasn't an animal person in general.
But still, emphasis on "almost." He remembered two things before he could utter that: the first being that he and Brown (and by extension anyone positively associated with her) were supposed to be enemies, the second being that Nathaniel was his ally. And... Well... If he shooed the Easterling out of his office, he might as well get his ass kicked by a Zeewolven crony later on.
Then he'd come crawling and limping back over to Roswell and Brown and that blond thief and that fish lady... Like a pitiful son of a bitch. How would they look at him? Not the same, huh? They probably wouldn't be able to even glance at him in the eye after all that double-crossing, thanks to Nathaniel's slippery tongue back in the alleyway. Not to mention that by now, Brown likely already alerted Roswell of the betrayal... Hubris, in other words, was one hell of a bitch. Johnson knew that he was now in too deep of a hole to get out of, so...
He sucked in a breath, then folded his fingers together into a steeple.
"Well, you're still a bitch for letting all of that information leak out," growled the aristocrat with a wave of his hand. Splayed on his desk was a well-worn tome relating to supernatural, paranormal properties - one that he didn't really care about on his own but nonetheless took up in an attempt to better understand the creatures under his care. "So don't think I'm going to let you get that favor done easily. I won't be surprised if the damn fire snuffed out half of the cats in the harbor, like-" He paused to snap his fingers.
"That."
Edgy.
Johnson pursed his lips together before grunting, "But those would be the strays, as you mentioned. Those filthy moggies..." He bit back a chuckle before running a hand through his thin hair. "It'd make a hypothetical purebred roaming around the streets easier to find, but that's probably because most people wouldn't be stupid enough to let such a precious commodity roam around like that." Turning towards Nathaniel with a thoughtful scowl, the man leaned himself ever so slightly onto his desk while rubbing his bony cheek with his hand.
"If this Jan-Paul of yours wants a cat, then I can get him one," chuckled the man with a sneer, "Besides... He was rather nice to me at that one party anyway. I have to regale him in one way or another..." He shrugged, though his eyes did glint ever so ominously when the Easterling leidsman mentioned that he could give Johnson something in return for that sweet cat.
His voice now drenched with saccharine honey, he asked in reply, "Oh, really? What is it going to be, then? Something to drive this alliance forward? A proper initiative?" Oh? "I have a feeling that your faction needs help regrouping anyway, after that fire in the bunker harbor. I could help with that. There's no going back, really. Don't worry about secrecy. I have my ways." Oh! Oh fuck!
Nathaniel's ear twitched slightly. He stood in Johnson's office, his gaze wandering through the formal but empty chamber. "In our, spirit, of our alignment hu," he started. More like a mutter. What he was going to ask, was clearly not his idea. And he clearly didn't approve of it. Let alone asking Johnson, for ánything didn't seem to fit in Nathaniel's nature. "I want to ask you something. It's a small.. Request of some sort." Nathaniel said. His gaze now aimed at the high ceiling before they finally dipped down at Johnson. "Jan-Paul wants a cat. It's stupid I know. I tried to advice against it, but you know how the youth is. They see a cat, they want a cat," Nathaniel said. He huffed. Somewhat relieved that the burden, his question, was lifted of his shoulder. "But no ordinary cat. There are enough stray's living in the port, but no. He wants a purebred cat," Nathaniel almost seemed..desperate. "With lots of fur and fluff. Help me find such a cat and," Nathaniel shrugged, "I can give you something in return. Anything, besides purebred cats of course."
--
He stared at the page. Nathaniel's heart racing, like every highschooler heart would that was faced with an not announced math-test. The kind of fear that made your hands damped. "Kid, I'm sorry, " he said. Still staring puzzled at the many numbers and symbols on the paper. "I never finished school, " he admits. Before holding out the paper back to her. "But I can make it disappear.. And take full blame for it. How about that?" Nathaniel asked with a meek smile. "For those chocolates in return."
It was a well-known fact that Maribelle sucked at quite literally everything, even as a child, though one could say she was a lot more weak-willed then, unable to protest when told to do something that she hated. Not chores or anything-- her father never made her do chores-- but schoolwork, specifically mathematics, was something she complained helplessly that she couldn't do. It wasn't like she was a bad student, just... she was lazy, and she thought numbers were tedious. She had better things to do! And obviously, it wasn't like Nathaniel was doing anything with his fishy life, so that was where he came in.
She wasn't really sure why the man had visited the estate, and though that also meant he could ditch at any moment without consequence, she needed help, and he was the first person she saw. So, once the coast was clear, she wormed her way down the corridor with a thick, stapled stack of papers nestled in her arms, only to regret her approach when she realized how beefy the guy was. He could kick her down the hall like a soccer ball if he wanted to. Terrifying.
Maribelle stared up at Nathaniel for a few seconds, timidity taking over the first few times she tried to address him, so she was left standing there with her mouth parted slightly. Until she remembered how to talk.
"Can you..." Can I... "Can you do page six for me? Here?" She shoved the papers up at him. "It's only five questions, but I'm busy. I have..." She fell silent. What else did she need to do? Nothing. All she had to do was this goddamn math, but she didn't want to, for she was a brat. Still, she came up with something. "I need to study my homilies, my-- the scriptures." That was more important, wasn't it?
"If you do this," she then told him, "I'll tell him. My father. He won't reward you for it, but I'll tell him..." Another pause. "I'll jump off my bed, and land badly on purpose, and you-- I will tell him you saved me, somehow, from something. He will give you money then." Are you okay kid......................... "Or. I can give you my chocolates. They're good chocolates. He brought them in from the south for me."
HRNNGNGGNGNG follow-up post.
Eye contact was polite. Still, with the teenager before her, she was hardly able to look at him, though now more so out of embarrassment than fright. It was hard to be afraid when she could see his face. That, and she was more certain that her uncle was close by. He busied himself chatting up another old man, something she was only able to remain interested in for five minutes before scurrying ahead like an idiot, an action that would no doubt send him into a frenzy once he was finished with his conversation with the doctor. But, hey. At least she got to meet Aiden again, right?
She slowly nodded along with his words. He scared her at a party, and it was, frankly, humiliating. One would hope she learned not to stray from her guardians during such gatherings, but... If right now was any indication that she had yet to learn her lesson...
Oh, but then there was a bag of goodies. Greedily, she snatched them from Aiden's hands and peered inside. Toys and snacks and stuff, all of which she was thrilled to have, partially because she had never gotten shit like this in her life. She reached into the sack like a heathen, pulling out and inspecting bookmarks, wrapped cookies, bubbles... She couldn't deny the fact that she was thrilled. But, you wanna know the best part?
Her only friends were old men who would have absolutely no interest in these items. She didn't need to share anything!
"Yes, sir." She mumbled. She eyed the little bottle of bubbles for a few moments, unsure of what to make of it. She wondered if it was a drink... Hell yeah, she was a responsible young lady... Really, though, with that compliment in mind, a sense of haughtiness poured in and spilled out like milk from a cup. Her smile was sweet, but proud, the slightest crinkle of her eyes showing so. It didn't matter that she felt like she was about to pass out all the time. She was cool now.
Smug little shit.
She hurried to shove the bag into the sleeves of her cloaked dress. Or trying to, anyway. With any luck, her uncle wouldn't notice it.
"I'll keep them." she told Aiden, "Be sure to keep the bookmark, anyway. I don't have enough bookmarks."
"Oh, hello again!" The teenager's face almost lit up when he crossed paths with the younger child. He forced a smile as he squatted down so he could at least attempt to make eye contact with Maribelle. It wasn't like he disliked the young girl; he wanted to appear less threatening to her, but he had a hunch that this wasn't working. Yet, he still remained in his previous position, only slacking his shoulders and blinking slowly. He then added, resisting the urge to change to his American accent,
"I'm r-really, really sorry for spooking you at-at-at that party a while ago. So-so-so, I-I, uhm, splurged a little b-bit for you," he smiled as he pulled the bag from his arms and handed them to the younger girl.
"I-I wasn't sure if-if you were too old for this stuff... it-it-it's just some toys and snacks and stuff, b-but please, t-take good care of all this, okay? D-don't let anything go-go-go to waste. I-I don't care if-if-if you give them to your friends or-or-or keep them to yourself. I-I want to-to make sure it-it goes to-to a good home, and you look a really responsible young lady." He then stopped speaking. Aiden continued to hesitate, pondering if he should ruffle his hand against her hair. He decided against this, instead steadying himself as he pushed himself back up.
"You!" Oh no.
Fitzgerald stepped up to the teenager with the usual stomp in his steps, the usual stupidly puffed-out chest - like he was some peacock trying to show off to some clearly inferior individual. Asserting dominance was one of the youth's favorite strategies if he ever needed to curry favor from someone, and the poor other just so happened to be his intended Guinea pig in the moment. Hell, he even brushed away some dust from his leather coat before rolling his shoulders and wagging a finger in the fellow's direction.
"You told me that you wanted to explore, right?" he questioned almost threateningly, while he stood on his toes in a measly attempt to make himself look taller. Whatever. It didn't matter. The obvious pride in his tone, the way each note sounded like he was on top of the world and demanded to be listened to... It more than made up for his pitiful stature. Fitzgerald continued, "Yea, you heard me right! I remembered it! I remembered that, and my boss told me more about yourself too!" His grin persisted for much, much too long before finally shrinking into a more reasonably sized smile.
Does he really want me to work with this guy!? He seems like he'd be blown away by the wind, with all that trembling... And he might scare the animals too, and-
His smile, however, was anything but genuine as he spoke in a honeyed voice, "So... I have just the tiniest favor to ask of you... And I know it may seem a little bit intimidating, but..." Fluttering his eyes ever so coyly, the man put a hand in his bag and dug around for a moment before pulling out a fresh notebook, with the cover and pages being in mint condition! Aww... It almost seemed as if he was being generous. As always, however, his smile killed the mood. "My boss rather likes you, for whatever reason," grunted Fitzgerald, "so I think he wants you to work with me as an 'intern' for a bit... Whatever that means. Basically he just wants you to help me take notes on the fauna and flora in the area, from their appearance to how they eat. Shit like that. I can help you along the way if you want; that's what he said."
He paused to rub his chin before adding, "I'm sure he failed to note the fact that your parents probably won't be very happy with your... Dalliance, but..." With a shrug, Fitzgerald still held the notepad out, though he was almost jamming it into the poor teenager's hands at this point. "... It doesn't matter. You asked for the opportunity, you can take it. Besides, it seems like a now or never moment for you. I can only say that you're still a total fucking coward if you don't take it, but I would've preferred it if I didn't have to prompt you into exploring the world yourself, hm? So... You're still a coward. But only a half-coward. Would that work for you?"
Vittorio.... I'd die for you too..... here's a follow-up......
"There's only damn pigeons and starlings here," groveled Fitzgerald under his breath before drawing in a deep breath. He planted his feet on the sidewalk and held his arms to his sides, almost as if he wanted to hold in said breath. Gee. "My boss said there should be more birds outside of the main urban areas, closer to the parks or suburban areas, but... I haven't even found the damn areas yet..."
Served him right for being too proud to take a map at the city's entrance.
Gee, did that humiliating moment replay in his mind over and over - as he remembered how he had passed by the dispenser while sauntering into the city limits, then immediately turning up his nose and strolling past it without a single care in the world. He even remembered what he said in that moment: "I bet the city itself isn't even that bad." Oh, how humiliating all of that was in hindsight! Placelessness and hubris were real bitches in that regard.
Fitzgerald kicked away a pebble before starting to walk again. Keep groveling, you little bitch. Maybe the sound of his footsteps would be enough to at least distract him from his thoughts-
"Hey, you!"
"Damn it," the youth spat under his breath before turning to face a hairdresser who... Actually didn't look half-bad. Immediately, he straightened himself up and combed his fingers through his hair before carefully approaching the other party. With a cocked head, he sniffed, "I heard that... You need something from me, right?" At least he hoped that was the case. His eyes drifted up to the building in question, a hairdresser's abode. His smile faltered for a second before he looked back up with the same innocent, almost lamblike expression as before. "Need anything? Just... Make it quick, make it snappy. I don't have all the time in the world, you know."
He nodded at the other man's words, though he couldn't exactly sympathize. Sure, Fitzgerald had his moments, where he sat in his station and wondered if M. Pourife actually cared about him as an intern, as a son figure, but... As far as he knew, he was certain that the scientist liked him. He said so, at least.
"Well, she's a bitch," replied Fitzgerald with a similar bluntness. Gee. Like he was above doing the same thing if placed in her shoes... He looked up at one of the upper-story windows before preening his hair yet again. "But... Sure, I can try talking to her. I mean, smooth talkers like myself do exist for a reason, you know. Just... Don't expect this to go over easy. I think it'll be obvious that you're using a second party to prevent things from falling through." His look soured after that. "That's... Not all you're thinking of, right? I'd rather not, if that's the case... But if not, I don't really care - either way. I just want to see the birds around here- Actually..."
"How about you help me out too?" Oh gee. "I'll help you with your boss, and you can give me a map- Or at least tell me where the hell the nearest park is. It's for a research project."
Vittorio paced back and forth, grimancing a bit. Great, just great. His boss had locked him outside of the hair salon just because she asked for a honest opinion about the dress she designed and he delivered it - it was ugly. The worse part, is that at this rate, he was going to be forced to spend the night in the house of a friend of his, but he didn't want to trouble her.
He then spotted Flitzgerald walking by, and it was if a light bulb appeared above his head. His boss wouldn't listen to his apology, but maybe if he asked someone else to talk to her, the stranger could put some sense in her little worm-filled head!
"Hey, you!" Vittorio ran to Flitzgerald. "Can you do me a favor?"
"My boss is a bit of a... a... crazy, you know?" Vittorio went straight to the point, gesticulating as he spoke. "She dcided it was a funny to lock me outside of the hair salon after a silly argument we had, but I live there, you know?" He pointed at his workplace. "Could you... eh... knock on the door and talk to her? She will open up if it's not me. Tell her I'm sorry, could you?"
"Even though I was being honest," the hair dresser muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.
---
Vittorio stood speechless as he heard NV talk. He thought it was a wonderful day - not having to hear his boss yak at his ear - but a weird feeling of dread told him that he would feel so much at ease if his boss was there instead of the mysterious figure. At first glance, the hair dresser thought that was some kind of prank. Someone was trying to scare him - perhaps his boss wanted to get the better of him; but soon realized that wasn't the case. A normal human didn't have bandages that moved on their own nor have such empty gaze...
The hair dresser instinctively took a step back, even though he knew he had nowhere to run.
This must be a nightmare, he thought.
"I... I don't understand what you are saying." Vittorio, why are you responding? Even if this is a nightmare, that will only make matters worse! "But... but... but my face belongs to me. I can't share it with you."
Let this be only a nightmare - somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice screamed.
There was something off about today.
Something wrong.
It was a quiet day; not a single customer had come in, didn't even pass by the store. Even July wasn't around. But... that didn't mean the salon was empty.
Standing at the very center was a figure in baggy clothes, but what was more unnerving were the wraps coating every inch of their body. They slowly turned, one visible eye boring into Vittorio. "You have a nice place here," they said quietly. "Nice decor, a nice feel to it. It must attract a lot of customers. You must see a lot of different faces here, lots of different personalities. I wonder what that's like, for so many kinds of people to come here because they want to see you. I don't blame them. You're talented, clearly. You're skilled enough to get a job to help you with your life, and even then you had someone that cared about you enough to shelter you. You have wonderful looks, too, and a wonderful way of speaking. It's like anyone can feel comfort and have fun around you. What a charming personality." They turned to fully face him, their wraps slowly snaking around their arms like they had a mind of their own.
"Would you mind doing me a favor?" NV asked. "I've always wanted to know what it was like being loved and cared about. I think if I had a face like yours I would know. Please, would you mind sharing it with me?"
The minute Envy recognized who Viper was asking about it shrilled for its host to not go through with this, that the man this one was talking about was highly dangerous. NV, however, wasn't listening. There was only one thing going on in their head, and it was what Viper had said earlier: friend. A friendly and loving friend. He considered them a friend. Nobody else ever had.
It felt nice to be called one.
"I'll help you," they grunted. "If I take his face, he'll lose it, and I can change to look like him. Would you like that to happen?"
No matter who it was Viper wanted and how, NV would do everything in their power to help their friend.
pickle oh my god you cant do this to me, the amount of pain and guilt i feel]
He crawls himself on top of a desk, inching along it until he sits at the edge, one leg dangling off. Behind him is a vast arrangement of windows, all revealing the inner city of Boston and it's day life. For some, it's busy out there. For him? It's just another day of listening to the outside world engage in their mundane.
"So, thanks for coming innnn." He presses a quick, welcoming smile-- the fakest of smiles, obviously so. His other leg snugs itself tight on top of the other, allowing his foot to bounce itself for idle entertainment. "I took a look at your future, and so far it's not looking too good. It seems like, you're kind of going to be stuck where you're at, never really getting what you want. That is, if you keep on the same path you've been going on. I focused in more on the outcome of if you used me, your friendly and loving neighborhood friend, to help you out-" A lie. "And the results were much better. I'm not sure exactly what you're chasing, but you had two eyes and a pointed nose, so maybe that's something that speaks to you. Anyway, blah, blah, yadda ya- let's skip that daydreaming. I have a favor to ask, since you apparently have some killer, paranormal vibes to you. Almost kind of like some other guy I know. Maybe you know him too. He's got a bit of a beard-" His hand circles around the lower half of his face, "White hair. Dresses like his name is Giovanni. Anyway."
Hand dropping onto the desk, he leans his upper body forward, focusing both eyes on their singular one. "From what I've stalked of your abilities, you can snatch people's faces and things up. Like a body snatcher. What would happen if you, let's say.. Took the president's away?"
Funnily enough, despite literally having a bunch of ghostly creatures under his wing, Smithson was never the type to take superstition or the supernatural that seriously. Sure, he supposed that he had to consider them at least somewhat - for the sake of his livelihood - but that was... It. A professional obligation. Nothing more.
It was pitiful, really. But that wasn't the main reason why he was here to bother the demon in the first place.
He seemed to have other priorities, for the first thing the middle-aged man asked her was "So, I imagine that you're not exactly from around here, yes?" That assumption was literally made just because he hadn't seen an anthropomorphic creature anywhere in his home region, and it was disgusting. Yet alas, he was on his home turf, and so there really wasn't much that could've been done about it (at least in his eyes, which would've been ideal for him anyway). "I mean... It's not every day that I see someone like yourself..."
Smithson paused for a moment before sighing. He was going to have to get to the point eventually, but it was such... A delicate issue. One that could've easily bordered on overly political. However, he did believe that as an "honorary political officer" (whatever the hell that meant), it was his duty to investigate those who might've come in contact with his son as of late - if only because his negotiations with the bureaucracy had been needlessly fruitless these days. They just didn't provide enough information for his ravenous mind, and so he simply had to take the matter into his own hands.
Burn up the opposition, too, if he needed it.
But that wasn't on his mind at the moment, as he held his hands behind his back and explained further, "My associates tell me that you spoke with a scientist once, yes? He... Complimented your choice of clothing, or at least discussed it? I'd have to agree with him. Your selection of dresses is quite lovely. I can see that on an aristocrat. That's not why I'm here, however." Fucking finally. He was going to stop beating around the bush. Smithson coughed into his sleeve before taking a step forward. "You see, miss... That scientist is the mentor of my son. He's not dead by any means, so I doubt your 'extra eye' will be that useful, but..." He heaved out a sigh, then rubbed the back of his neck.
"If you ever see him, can you please provide information about him to me? I'm his father, really, so I kind of need to know. I can provide you more information if you're interested, but admittedly, that's all I can really reveal for now - without getting into the nitty-gritty legal detail."
Zinnia.... hon... I'd die for you... Smithson not so much. here's my follow-up.
Smithson had been casually preening himself as usual - and it was disgusting. Sure, he was an aristocrat, and therefore technically it was one of his “social obligations” (whatever the hell that meant) to look presentable, and therefore impressive on the average individual, but it was still the tiniest bit egregious. It was still the tiniest bit vain, especially when there really weren't that many people around to look at him in unquestioning awe and remark on how absolutely stupendous he looked. It was as problematic as it sounded: disgusting.
Pride, after all, was a major travesty that the man suffered from. Just don’t tell him that, because then he’d get daddy issues and lose his absolute shit.
“Hm?” he piqued when he heard a voice being called in his direction. His footsteps ceased for a moment just so the middle-aged aristocrat could finish fixing up his hair. Then, drawing in a deep sigh, he allowed his hands to lay languid against his side's before he asked in as calm of a voice as he could muster, “Do you need anything, or are you just looking for some money? Or something to talk about? You know I don't have a lot of time, right?” And as if to demonstrate, the man whipped out a planner from his pocket and waved it in the air - though he didn't actually open it. If he did, it would've been easy to see that much of the pages were empty.
Gee. All of this bullshit, and he didn't even try to look at the other party in the eye. Imagine being that pathetic and disgusting at the same time.
However, when he turned around, Smithson instantly regretted being as harsh as he was. She was just a teenager, after all, and he treated her like either a vagabond, vagrant, or one of those damn traveling salesmen. If only his own son received that type of mercy. But that wasn't in his mind at the moment, as he gazed at her with a careful frown. Her soft blond hair was frizzy and disoriented, and red edged her scleras as if they were inflamed. It was like he had never seen anything like it before, but at the same time the sight was just too familiar for his liking.
“You need anything?” he asked bluntly after a period of silence. Nice.
His eyes then locked on the plastic bag the girl was wielding, as she described the contents. It seemed to be of junk food and sweets, and the man’s stomach twisted just thinking about them. He was used to eating foie gras and caviar, not chips and mochi! What was she thinking, offering an uptight man such lowly food!? Whatever tenderness was in his eyes earlier faded as he narrowed his eyes and gazed off to the side, his hands wringing while his arms crossed.
With a scoff, he replied bluntly, “I'm fine. I don't need any of it, really. If you asked my son, you could have better luck, but he's obviously not here right now, so…” He paused to rub the back of his neck. “... I'm not picky with my food, but that's all processed, right? I'm not sure if I can stomach those types of foods. It's not good for the aging gut, you know?” And the asshole ate foie gras at least once a month.
He did, however, raise his brow at the girl asking to accompany him on his walk… To wherever he was going. Did it really matter? Smithson supposed that it was a way to kill two birds with one stone - satisfying the girl while also getting to his destination… Yet again, Smithson hesitated as he sucked in his breath, then started to pinch at the backs of his palms with his fingers.
“Sure,” he merely affirmed with a nod, “I… I can go with you. Don't expect much from me in terms of nice words, but I'll at least try my best to listen in, hm?”
Smol trigger warning for some briefly mentioned weight-related dysphoria
Excessive bullying, once again. It almost seemed as if it were a coincidence that it happened right as Zinnia was leaving the convenience store with a plastic bag full of snacks in tow. A necessary evil that she had to face, but the snide comments regarding her build were unwanted. Her mood dampened, Zinnia was irritable and vulnerable. She was, admittedly, caught off guard by the previously mentioned event; she struggled to move on from it or laugh it off, and she spent most of her walk anxiously scanning herself and her surroundings.
The teenager had decided to take a longer route towards her friend's house in an attempt to calm herself down. She trudged along the path, occasionally slowing herself down to take in her surroundings. Despite her attempts to appear less crass, her red-tinted, bloodshot eyes were almost a dead giveaway that she had been crying. She then whipped her head around, noticing that someone had been walking in a similar direction as her. After pausing to think, Zinnia abruptly slowed herself down so that she could allow the second party to catch up to her.
"Hi, sir!" the teenager squeaked, tilting her head up so she could see the older man. She allowed her lips to curl into a smile as she held up her plastic bag.
"I just got out of the store, but I went hog wild on my money spending. Would you like some free food? Please, take as much as you want. I'm feeling generous today." the teenager stated. After letting out an exhale, Zinnia shifted her legs so she could press her feet together.
"I've got chocolate, chips, mochi...all that jazz. Oh, no need for money; I just want this stuff out of my hands," Zinnia continued, slightly lowering the bag.
"Ooh, also, I know that this is going to be a weird request, but-" the teenager paused to smack her lips.
"Can I...walk with you and talk a little bit? I have something that really grinds my gears at the moment, and I want to get my mind off that. "
Clarissa, caught off-guard by an enemy stand user, really needed to hand off her baby sister Dove to someone else, not wanting the little toddler to get caught up in the battle. She ran, panting and exasperated towards the slightly younger girl. "H-hey. Sorry I didn't get much of a chance to introduce myself or anything, and frankly, I still really don't have the time. I'm caught up in something right now and I need someone to watch my baby sister for me- and she took a bit of a liking to you when she ran off from me a while ago, so I'm sorry to pawn her off on you but this is an emergency, do you mind watching her for me?"