Description: And what happened then...? Well...in Southtown they say... that the Schroedinger's small heart grew three sizes that day!
Luc Schroedinger stares almost forlornly at his half-eaten cheeseburger. Cheese oozes out from between the bun, combined with ketchup, mustard, and stray pieces of pickles. He's been doing this for ten minutes now, sitting at his lone table towards the back of the food court; most people are smart enough -not- to bother him. His finger taps against the smooth top of his table in an irregular beat, tempo rising and falling with the twitch of his right eyebrow.
"... Hnn." Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. Tap. Taptap. Tap. He stares at the cheeseburger even -harder-, if such a thing were possible. He squints, leans forward. "..."
Slowly but surely does Luc's right hand snake out. Slender fingers wrap around the cheeseburger, lift, and then--
"I ASKED FOR NO -PICKLES-, YOU -FUCKING- -RETARDS-!"
The angry German HURLS the half-eaten sandwich at the nearby Burgers 'R' Us counter, pegging one of the employees straight in the head with an explosion of meat, cheese and condiments.
"-Jackasses-."
A silent hush overcomes the food court as everyone stares at Luc. Slowly, though, the people begin to ignore him once more, Schroedinger left to lean back in his seat with arms crossed and expression dour as he taps a finger against his left bicep. "And I paid a whole buck for it, too!" Oh yes, he's displeased about this. The angry German seems a little bit sullen too, though. Sad. One might wonder why...
... until the sound of his stomach gurgling rips through the empty air.
"... -Shut up-."
Luc finds it good practice to tell his internal organs to shut up; not that it works. The gurgling gets louder as he frowns all the deeper, slumping down. That was his -last dollar-, too. The rest? All in a conspicuously large bag beside him, colored festively in red and green. Whatever inside is a mystery, and certainly no one is willing to ask the angry German. After all --
He just lost a cheeseburger.
When Luc yells, people listen.
It's not that they really WANT to or do so willingly; quite the contrary. Luc Schroedinger is so damn loud when he yells that everyone is made to suffer. He's rude, he's crass and most definitely crude. He's annoying, and usually winds up distancing himself from the majority with his foul mouth alone.
It's some miracle he has what he could call "friends." As hard as such is to grasp, it's the plain and honest truth. But there are no friends here in the food court as he throws his burger at the poor clerk who served him. If anything, he's making enemies.
It is very likely Luc Schroedinger does not care one bit.
On the outskirts of the food court, a set of gray eyes observe with a dulled expression of disbelief at the display. Just when she thought he couldn't be any weirder or obnoxious, Luc just goes and proves her wrong. Briefly those eyes wander, peering at the gathered observers, who just stare with equal disbelief at Luc. The boy clearly has issues.
But he brings it all upon himself!
Exhaling, the gray-eyed redhead sags her shoulders before she lifts her Slurpee up and sips loudly from one corner of her mouth. Slung casually over her shoulder is her purse, from which she pulls out her cellular and snaps it open. Click. The scene is priceless. Pás would love this.
Once that's taken care of, Marisol tucks her phone into the fathoms of her purse once more as she strides forward through the court. Ignoring the majority, she beelines for the young, angry and burger-less German sulking in his seat with a tiny, impish smile. She makes no effort to make her presence know; instead, she appears to simply sneak up behind the young man. Then?
"BLAH!" she cries, thrusting a hand forward and slamming it on the surface of his table. Of note is the money under her hand, a few bills.
"Idiot, what's your problem?" she asks. "You like the attention, don't you??"
She takes a sip of her Slurpee.
More likely than not, most of the people in this food court are now A) disgusted with Luc, B) annoyed with him, or, C) afraid of him. It effectively distances himself from everyone. People leave the tables near him for the safe comforts of something farther away. It is very likely Luc Schroedinger does not care one bit.
It's even more likely that this is just how he wants it to be.
Of course, there are certain, clear-cut benefits that Luc cannot partake in without having any friends. One, is borrowing money. He could use some of that right now. But Luc's pride is such that he would never condescend to ask -anyone- for favors, even if he were starving. So in the end, Luc seems quite content that people are ignoring him.
Aside from the general 'pissed off' feel that exudes from him, anyway.
Eyes hooding and frown deepening, Luc chooses the worst of times to start leaning back against the hind legs of his chair. The hard seat leans backwards precariously with the creak of metal as he stares at his now-empty table. Green, bored-looking eyes shift lazily to that large bag. He frowns even -more-. "... This is a stupid holiday," he declares decidedly. He leans further back.
Luc Schroedinger has begun thinking of the merits of asking for a properly-made cheeseburger for Christmas by the time that someone's hand SLAMS against his table.
'BLAH!'
"WHAT THE SHIT--"
His balance is shot in that moment. Luc's precarious lean against the chair is completely ruined. For a moment, he flails hopelessly through the air as his seat tilts further back, further back... and then -collapses-. /CRASH\. The angry German is expelled from his seat in a roll that sends him flinging backwards, hitting head-first against the counter of a Dunkin Donuts with a heavy THUNK of impact. He looks dazed for a moment, and the entire event? Simply expels the intimidation that he had just worked -SO HARD- on. Green eyes launch upwards, to -glare- at the intruder. But he hears the voice before he sees the face.
"What. What the HELL did you do that for, you horse's ass?!" he offers unpleasantly. Translation: 'Hi Marisol!' "GO -FUCK YOURSELF-." 'How are you today?' "I don't want attention, I just want idiots to make a cheeseburger right!" 'I don't want attention, I just want idiots to make a cheeseburger right!'
"... What the hell are you DOING here, anyway?!" 'What are you doing on this fabulous winter afternoon?'
In an instant, Luc's little world is sent crashing down. Quite literally.
It never ceases to amuse Marisol how over-the-top the young German's reactions are. Granted, Pás is the one who really gets an amazing rise out of the short-tempered Luc, but Marisol will gladly take what she can get, when the opportunity arises. Such as now.
So, with a Slurpee straw lazily nestled at the corner of her mouth, those gray eyes watch and follow Luc as he flails, falls and rolls toward the donut shop. She only flinches slightly when his head impacts with an audible thud before she just smiles broadly around the straw.
Oh that Luc Schroedinger. The world would be a boring place without him!
When he demands and explanation, the half-Spaniard girl just lets loose a dull expression, gray eyes glancing aside as she nurses her drink. She says nothing, preferring instead to just stand there and looking elsewhere until he is done yelling at her.
Then, and only then, does her Slurpee descend from her lips.
"It's a mall," she states in a 'matter of factly' tone. "People come here to shop. And believe it or not, I shop too!" Absently, Marisol gestures with one hand, the Slurpee waving about. "It's not like the mall is some exclusive club or members only, Luc. Jeez." Exhaling, the redhead's eyes hood, her expression flat as she adds, "You really are dumb."
She lets that settle, taking another modest sip of her Slurpee.
"Anyway, as I said, I was shopping. But then you were yelling and throwin' shit and kind of distracted me. But there's something bugging me about your presence here." She squints, gray depths thoughtful, inquisitive as she looks down at the young man on the tile floor of the mall food court.
"Luc," the redhead begins.
"Why are you out shopping?"
Full lips suddenly pull into a bright and horribly wolfish smirk.
"Were you out looking for a new dress?"
"Ha-chinha!!"
The sudden sneeze, like the fifteen more before it in the last hour, makes Pás' back spasm, her head snap forward, and the rest of her come real close to falling on her ass. But she keeps her balance this time, staying really still until the attack ends. When it does, she mumbles, one hand reaching up to move her heavy hair off her face.
Exhaling heavily, she gives her head a shake and keeps going.
In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to have worn a bikini for winter in New York City. In retrospect, it was probably borderline lunatic to have spent two hours stuck up a tree in said bikini in said New York City winter.
Whether or not she regrets it, Pás suffers for her choices. She's gotten herself a cold upon her return to Southtown, one that has thankfully been held in check by her constitution. She's never had much of a problem when it comes to fighting off illnesses and infection, and it looks like this one hasn't manifested past the dull headache and the constant sneezing.
However, the sneezing may just kill her yet.
This is what brings the girl to the mall, taking some time off from her usual mystery and mischief to get a few errands done. Stepping around in sandals with parcels hanging from her hands, Pás looks radically different from that show she tends to put on for public fights, her usual non-existent choices of clothing exchanged today for simple, form-fitting white pants and a Corinthians-logoed tee overlaid with a zipped up hoodie. Her striking face is fresh of make up and her long hair is bundled back in a high ponytail.
Even immodest Brazilians are allowed a day off.
And now, as she steps lazily through the mall, oblivious of all else, Pás listens to music off her ipod and mentally counts the things she needs done. She needs to find something that will make her head stop pounding, buy some food, buy another guitar string, pick up the telegram she's been putting off from her father and possibly don't read it at all, and--
"Ha-chinhaaaa!!!"
--maybe write out a will because she thinks she's about five sneezes away from exploding off her face.
Luc Schroedinger should be lucky that his abrupt roll came to a stop with a strike against his head rather than anywhere else.
It is, after all, possibly the densest part of the German's body.
Still, that doesn't keep the Pacific delinquent from being dazed and confused for a rare few moments after his head strikes. The words off his accusations against Marisol come out ever-so slightly slurred, and his intense green eyes are out of focus for several seconds, roaming between several different tables before they finally manage to lock onto the half-Spaniard. And when he finally sees her, he has nothing but frowns to offer.
"I know what a MALL is, you ass! Shut up!" This witty comeback offered, the black-haired teenager just lets out an unintelligible grumble of displeasure. "I'm not dumb, you can go to hell. Idiot." There. That settles that.
Slowly does Luc drag himself up and onto his feet once more. Not really because he was terribly injured; he's forgotten almost entirely about the pain by now, a passing memory. He gets up slowly because he's distracted, and annoyed, and the deliberate slowness of his movements allows him time to take deep breaths and resolve not to just punch Marisol in the face. See? He's trying.
It's hard, though.
"There's something bugging me about how you keep talking," Luc snorts out derisively as Marisol offers up more of her idle musings. "I didn't ask you to come over here and bug me, I was doing just fine by my--"
'Luc,' she begins.
'Why are you out shopping?'
"..."
The other question is the only thing that snaps the German out of an actual, thoughtful look that seizes hold of him the moment that Marisol asks -him- what -he's- doing here. Eyes jerking towards his bag, he takes a measured step -forward- and swoops down to grab it up with a sudden, snapping grab.
"It's none of your business!" -Girls-. "Why don't you go buy some lip gloss or whatever the hell it is you girls get at malls?" He pauses, only then registering Marisol's last words.
"I DID NOT BUY A DRESS! What kind of STUPID QUESTION is that?!"
Delayed anger, the best kind.
Siiiip.
Marisol says nothing; instead, she prefers to let the angry German do the majority of the talking - and for good reason, too. When he talks, he is angry. So clearly by this logic Luc talks a lot, but that's beside the point here. The point is, Luc is talking a lot in turn, and it only draws a dopey grin across Marisol's full lips.
"I dunno," she begins, absently waving her Slurpee around. "Some would argue whether or not you have the mental capacity of someone with average intelligence, Schroedinger." She flashes a brief smile, eyes alight with humor as she meets his gaze. She does not fear the fiery young German.
Then again, who really does?
But that question! Why, on God's green earth, is Luc Schroedinger out shopping? His sudden silence draws forth a Cheshire's grin, eyes hooded and lit with newfound delight as he is seemingly caught in his place. Lifting the Slurpee again to her lips, the half-Spaniard takes a thoughtful yet slow sip.
"Awfully defensive," she muses, her head tilting to one side as she peers at the dark-haired youth. Around the duo eyes are already locked on Luc as he yells, clutching desperately to his belongings for fear of being discovered.
"And your actions! So incriminating, Schroedinger. What are you hiding..?" Curiously, the half-Spaniard leans forward and stretches a hand out, at least until she hears a distant but vaguely familiar sneeze. After all, she heard it all flight home.
Immediately her gray eyes search for the mysteriously modest Brazilian girl, somewhere in the food court. And when she spies the girl, Marisol's face will light up like the sun itself.
"Pás! Pás!! Come help me find out what pretty dress Luc has bought himself!"
The distant, terribly familiar yelling goes right on over Pás' bowed, sniffling head, while one groping hand serves to make sure she didn't sneeze out one of her eyeballs. She pushes back her ponytailed hair, giving her head another orienting shake, letting her usually-ever-so-smily face slouch with suffering. She regrets nothing, but maybe she's thinking she should've worn a sweater.
Or at least some socks.
Just as the poor little Brazilian is slouching past the mall food court, she swears she hears her name. Her stride slows, and she pauses in mid-step, her head tilting like kittens do in front of a television set.
Pás looks curiously over her shoulder. Her eyes widen. It's Marisol! And Luc?
For a moment, the dark-skinned girl looks distinctly similar to the way deer look, her eyes big and round and a little moist around the corners. Then, slowly, her expression mollifies, her slow smile getting the lazy, sticky consistency of molasses. Her eyelids droop down. Southtown is a small world.
"Ola, you two of sillies," Pás is saying as she walks towards the mismatched pair, slinging her bag to one shoulder as the other arm lifts in a lazy wave. Coming closer, the Brazilian seems to slouch on the spot, letting out a tired breath as she slides both hands into her back pockets, resting palms on her hips. "What have you both doings? Are you having shopping date? That is--"
Pás pauses. Her face scrunches.
She doubles over.
"Ha-chinha!!"
And she remains half-slumped that way, groaning sadly under her breath, "....puta que te pariu."
There are many things that annoy Luc Schroedinger. There's too many to count, really, but as an example, just here, just now, just talking to Marisol, there are at -least- six things that annoy him. One, is how she keeps insulting his intelligence -- the truth hurts. Two, how her tone is so smug and self-assured, like she knows everything in the world. Three, that she's a girl trying to ruin his afternoon with... girly things. Four, that she's claiming he's bought a dress when that is the most stupid thing he's ever heard, as clearly he does not wear dresses. Five, the bright smile she flashes at him that makes him both want to calm down and punch her in the face with all the fury he can muster at the same time. Six?
"That FUCKING. -SLURPING-. IS -ANNOYING-."
The words are snarled out in snapping statements that border on more angry yelling. The German's hand clamps all the more tightly around his bag, knuckles whitening and energy crackling around it. Briefly, he considers just destroying the bag so that Marisol can't see what's inside. It's not like he actually cares about things like money. But whatever is in that bag is a bit too important for him to just destroy, apparently -- the crackling dies off as he takes a step back, frowning EVEN MORE distinctly.
"I'm not defensive! I just don't want a worthless piece of crap like you nosing in on my business! Stop asking stupid questions, like I'm going to tell you what's in the bag! It doesn't matter -ANYWAY-." He's not really all that intimidating here, that's for sure. It's moments like this that one has to wonder how anyone could find him threatening. But then--
'Pás!'
"... whu."
'Pás!'
"Oh, fuck -that-."
Luc's green gaze turns slowly, only to be greeted by the approaching form of that -- oddly -dressed- -- Brazillian. "God -dammit-!" More girls. More importantly, more girls that ESPECIALLY ANNOY him. Yet... the other Pacific student seems oddly lackluster today. Sick. He almost stops in his angry, frothing rant...
But then she has to go and say the wrong thing.
'Are you having shopping date?'
'Are you having shopping date?'
'ARE YOU HAVING SHOPPING DATE?'
"WHAT?!"
Immediately, Luc EXPLODES into flustered rage, his face tinging briefly as he snaps his left hand to the side to POINT at Marisol. "Are you FUCKING STUPID?! No! NO! I am NOT GOING ON A DATE WITH HER! She's STUPID, I HATE HER, and she's -- she's -- FUCK YOU!"
At a loss of words now for anything else, Luc resorts to what he does best: violence. BREAKING across the ground in a dead-run towards Pás, Luc rears his right leg up, before swinging it DOWN in a stomping kick wreathed in black-blue flames -- aimed for the Brazillian's midsection.
"I wouldn't go out on a date with her if EVERYONE ELSE WAS DEAD. -STUPID GIRLS-!"
Yeah.
Take that, sick girl!
COMBATSYS: Luc has started a fight here.
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Luc 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Marisol has joined the fight here.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Luc
COMBATSYS: Pas has joined the fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Luc
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
"Is it?" the redhead inquires.
Then, without an ounce of hesitation, Marisol takes one big, loud and drawn-out slurp from her cup, eyes half-lidded as she sports an amused look toward the angry German. When his hands clutch furiously to the bag and dare to burn what is inside, however, that expression briefly shifts, her eyes distantly thoughtful - even curious - as she observes.
"Uh...huh," Marisol ultimately replies, a lopsided smirk edging its way over full lips. "If it doesn't matter, why are you so worried? Ehh? EHH?" She takes another sip of her Slurpee. But...her thoughts almost immediately shift as the fully-clothed Brazilian girl enters the picture, however, an arm shooting up to wave the otherwise sullen (and sick) girl over. Fortunately she obliges the loud-mouth redhead.
Much to the chagrin of poor Luc Schroedinger, of course. But she wouldn't want it any other way.
Things were going great - really, they were! But you know what ruins it?
Implying Marisol would go on a date - shopping or otherwise - with Luc.
"W-what? No!!" the half-Spaniard stammers, eyes as wide as saucers and horribly mortified. "What on earth are you thinking, Pás!? I would never do such a thing! He's an ignorant and violent moron who is clearly making up for his shortcomings if you know what I mean. And by 'shortcomings' I obviously mean..." She pauses.
"Luc has a tiny penis." Another thoughtful sip of her Slurpee.
However, when he sprints after the sickly Brazilian, Marisol's features twist. What is his problem?!
"What is your problem, Luc!?" she exclaims, the Slurpee in hand eyed. Part of her really likes the way it tastes. However, he's attacking their teammate. Hesitant to part with the candy drink, the girl absently gnaws her lip before she just lets forth a flustered cry and sends it flying for the back of his head.
"YOU OWE ME LUC!" she yells, as if throwing her Slurpee at him was his fault. BECAUSE IT IS!
COMBATSYS: Pas blocks Luc's Light Kick.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
Let it be seen, acknowledged, and remembered that this time -- and possibly only this time -- that Pás is the innocent victim here.
She wasn't teasing them. Between her illness and her mind on other things, that simple, damning question was made in honest curiousity. After all, she had come across two of her teammates in the same spot outside school, together and talking, perhaps even arguing, but that's as natural to the both of them as breathing or sitting on the toilet. It looks like a date. It could very well have been one! Are they not allowed to kiss?
She sort've thinks they'd make a cute couple.
At least until they both deny it, the German getting a little shrieky on his part.
Through their dismissals and Marisol's mortified wonderings, Pás merely shrugs her natural response, raising her palms in immediate surrender. "What?" she asks, with the ignorance of most nuns. "Is jes question? Did I say wrong Englishes?"
But the screaming seems to intensify at her other ear. Looking away from Marisol, Pás can't help but arch a suspicious look up at Luc. Parsing through all the wild cursing and violent screams that turn more than one head of random spectators, she homes in on the certain way he flusters, the certain way he denies. Her lips twitch. The way he's acting, she could almost swear that--
--he's running straight for her.
And innocent Pás, somewhere between a headache and a hard place, swearing she feels another sneeze coming, doesn't seem to await the attack with her usual grins and gusto. This time, she merely receives inevitability with a quiet hooding on her eyes.
It's the instant his foot comes winging in does the sick Brazilian suddenly whirl into movement, her feet stepping out of their sandals as she raises her free arm to stop Luc's kick. Her hand twists around and she tries to grab the boy by the foot, suddenly tethering him as she moves parallel to his outstretched leg, turning suddenly to offer her own. There she returns the favour, trying to clip him with a sudden, ruthless kick that targets two spots on his body: first gut, then face.
COMBATSYS: Pas successfully hits Luc with Conta e Gorjeta.
- Power hit! -
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Luc with Thrown Object.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Marisol 0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/------=|
Luc's foot swings in, alight with deadly black fire. Distantly, a troubled young boy turns to his mother, jutting a chubby finger towards the exchange.
"Mommy, that boy is picking on that girl! Why??"
"Oh dear," the mother murmurs ponderously, taking a bite of her Big Mac, "you see, Tommy, when bullies get angry at something, they try to pick on weaker peo--"
*CRACK* is the sound of Pás foot striking Schroedinger in the gut and face at lightning speeds.
"--... ...sometimes people just do foolish things when they're angry, Tommy."
"That boy is really stupid, huh Mommy?"
"Yes Tommy. Yes he is."
With the impact of a solid foot against his face, the German's head snaps to the side in a moment truly reserved for high-intensity slow-motion action sequences. Spittle flings from his mouth as he stumbles backwards, his foot ripping from her grasp --
Just in time for a large cup of Slusho! slurpee to impact against the back of his head in a sudden explosion.
BOOM!
If he weren't so angry and flustered, Luc might feel a little cold as the icy beverage spills all over the back of his neck and torso. Instead? He just feels more angry. If such a thing were possible.
"... ... ..." For a moment, Schroedinger stands there. His right hand twitches, his left still securely holding on to his bag in a display of true drive and resolve. "... I owe you? I OWE you? You know what?! -I- don't owe -YOU- -SHIT-!!" And then, he rips around, making a made break towards Marisol. His body accelerates at impossible speeds with the strain of muscle to compensate for the distraction of that slushie impacting him with such force.
"THIS IS ALL YOUR GODDAMN FAULT!"
And from there, his right hand PLOWS forward to strike Marisol in the center of the chest. He'll YANK back from there, just in time for a sudden and brilliant gout of black and blue fire to roar to life in the recently emptied space.
"I DO NOT HAVE A TINY PENIS, WHAT THE SHIT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT, YOU'RE SUCH A MORON! GRAAAAARGH!!"
COMBATSYS: Luc successfully hits Marisol with Frenzy Impact.
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Marisol 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/------=|
As delicious as her Slurpee - Slusho! brand, apparently - it serves her well, in more ways than one. Taking flight, the drink collides against Luc's head in an explosion of cherry-flavored goodness. Rather than cool an otherwise hot head, it does quite the opposite. It just infuriates him.
And that's just fine with Marisol.
Lifting a hand, she smugly cups her chin, lips pulled back in a toothy grin. Does she regret her loss? A little, but to see him covered in red ice? Priceless! "Of course you owe me!" she retorts sharply. "I wasted a dollar fifty on you by throwing that!" A soft 'harrumph' slips past her lips, as she simply folds her arms across her chest. "And I'll have you know, Pás, I have much higher standards than that. I thought you knew me better!?"
Pausing, the girl hoods her eyes, a humored but dangerous look flashing in her eyes.
"Then again, you were hugging that jer--"
Cut short, the girl is struck in the chest, a loud gasp and grunt slipping past her lips. Before she can even stagger she's blasted by chi, sent staggering a good foot and a half as she clutches her singed blouse. "I HEAR SHIT!" she snaps. But those eyes, they go back to Pás.
"You betray me!" she cries, "The hospital room, that day! Why!? Why that jerk!? Why him!?"
Without wasting a breath the girl charges for none other than Pás, to seize her by the throat and drive her palm's heel into her midsection, her hand aglow with yellowy chi. Impact will cause a furious blast, to send poor Pás flying if she's not too careful!
Fortunately Marisol doesn't cry or do anything equally dramatic. YET!
COMBATSYS: Pas fails to counter Moon Sling from Marisol with Branded Mule.
- Power fail! -
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Marisol 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/---====|
The accusation stops Pás cold. Her head twitches as though she were slapped.
And, for a fleeting moment, so quick the eye could miss it, both Marisol and Luc are treated to a rare sight. As if forced to recall a memory at the wrong place at the worst time, the Brazilian girl flusters. A faint blush sweeps across her cheeks, and she swallows thickly, having neither the mind nor motor control to do anything but stare, brokenly, straight at Marisol.
It's a mistake that gets her throat grabbed.
Her dark eyes staring into Marisol's greys, it is a moment too late when Pás registers the attack to respond. She gives a spirited struggle, grabbing one hand down onto the redhead's arm-- but the attempt is fumbling and laughable at best. She never even had a chance. The Brazilian is truly thrown, first by that surprising remark and second by the energy-laden strike to her middle.
She goes flying, losing her bag of purchases as she rolls along a row of tables, falling off the last and cracking her head straight into a chair. The girl goes instantly limp.
For a long time, she sprawls lifelessly along the dusty floor of the food court, appearing dead to the world. That might be it for her. She might not be getting back up. She looks like she's out cold.
"Ha-chinha!"
Or maybe not.
Pás' sudden, violent sneeze thunks her forehead against the floor. She groans. One hand twitching, the girl slowly and blockily reanimates, stirring dazed limbs and blinking her eyes. She sits up with a forceful push of her arms, one hand pressing against the tender split on her head as she spits up a mouthful of blood. Reeling, she diverts all her strength into remaining upright. She's not feeling too good. She's exhausted, she's sick, she can't stop her head from pounding, and what kind of truck just hit her? Right, right, the O'Connell kind. Right after she had said--
Remembering suddenly, Pás looks back up, her eyes turned across the court and landing right on the offending redhead. The Brazilian simply stares at her with an indescribable look on her face, her expression borderline incredulous but not quite there. She looks stunned.
And Pás, who is never anything but lazy smiles and perpetual happiness, seems to worry around the edges. Her expression momentarily sours, and when it seems to threaten a frustrated sadness, she... averts her eyes and suddenly grins to herself, letting go the breath she was holding and relaxing instantly on the spot. The moment's gone. Like a wall put up, the Brazilian they know best is back in spades, wiping her mouth, leaning back on an arm, and affixing Marisol and Luc both with a sharp look. She smirks.
Slowly rising back up to her feet, Pás is clicking her tongue in amusement as she replies, "Everyones is so testy today. Did I jes interrupt some sexy romance? Yea? Always thought you silly gringoes would hook up. Che, Cavalo, so you're the loves with Marisolas?" Her smirk goes jagged, twisting until it Hydes into a vicious grin. She waves one palm as if to dismiss a second wave of hot denials. "Nao, nao, you do not need to say yes. Jes... get mad." Her grin widens.
The Brazilian suddenly, strangely seems dead set on pissing them both right off.
It's safer that way.
Suddenly!! Luc Schroedinger has completely lost track of what the hell is going on.
"Euhn?"
Not that this is particularly hard for him to accomplish.
Luc slams his fist into Marisol with all his fury -- though likely, the explosion of fiery chi that proceeds it does more to make his Angry Point clear. Impact is made, and instantly Schroedinger snaps backwards, preparing for the reciprocation, to intercept it and deal out -even more pain- in all his flustered rage...
... But reciprocation never comes.
"... What the hell?"
The German is left to stare blandly, slurpee dripping off the back of his head as Marisol strikes out at Pás with verbal and physical blows. He lifts a finger up to his ear, scratching inside it in an idle gesture as green eyes blandly look between Marisol as she latches onto the Brazilian, and Pás as she desperately attempts to avoid the assault -- to no avail. Luc's brow twitches. Idly, he flicks away invisible dirt from his fingertips as he levels that Unhappy Stare at both girls. Girls. -Fucking- -girls-.
"This is stupid..." For one thing, he has no idea what is even going on or what Marisol is jabbering about. For another, the look the Brazilian is now giving is just -weird- and Luc doesn't like it one bit; if it were possible, he'd say it unnerves her more than her typical looks, and that is saying something. And finally...
"Why are you two having some sissy little gossip fest when we're HAVING A FUCKING FIGHT?!"
With this roaring declaration, Luc seems prepared to attack... and then his archnemesis speaks yet again. Green eyes SNAP to Pás, staring POINTEDLY. His mouth is agape, eyes squinting in disbelief. "I am NOT IN THE LOVES WITH MARISOLAS!! AND IT'S -MARISOL-, YOU DUMB WHORE!" Flustered, Schroedinger can only manage insults now as he grips onto a table with one hand, and ANOTHER table in his other, skillfully holding it and keeping his bag securely hung on his arm.
"You-- you-- JUST SHUT UP!" With this commandment, Luc HURLS the left table towards Pás like a makeshift missile, pouring his strength into it. And then?
"And YOU stop saying stupid shit no one understands! And STOP IGNORING ME!" He hurls the OTHER table at MARISOL with similar levels of force... and then pauses.
"...
"... ...
"AND ALSO SHUT UP!"
COMBATSYS: Marisol interrupts Large Thrown Object from Luc with Red Clover.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Marisol 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/---====|
The moment Marisol lets her emotions get the better of her, the instant she begins to regret it.
Everything.
Rushing the slinky Brazilian girl, she snares her in her moment of confusion and sends her flying back. In that instant she realizes again what a mistake and low blow that was. When she meets her friend's gaze, there's a strange air between them. But her arm moves, her body follows the motions - perhaps more than it ought. As result, a burst of chi erupts, and Pás goes flying across tables, crashing into a chair.
The tanned face of Marisol O'Connell pales considerable. She worries the instant her friend stops moving, and beneath her those feet begin to move toward the felled Brazilian. But when a sneeze breaks the awkward silence lingering over the food court, the girl's face lights up. She's okay!
Of course she's okay. It takes a lot more than that to stop the likes of Pás.
For now, poor Luc Schroedinger is forgotten.
"Er," the half-Spaniard begins, eyes flickering aside before she absently thumbs at the hem of her blouse. "Pás. I didn't mean to bring that back up n'all," Well now she just feels like crap, and it's all Marisol's fault. Hesitantly, the redhead's eyes move back to the stunned Brazilian. Was that a blush..?
"S-sorry," the girl ultimately mutters, hands dropping to her side.
But the moment Pás even suggests Luc likes her draws a pale shade of red across her face, first a mix of embarrassment, before her expression twists into something akin to flustered frustration. "S-stop suggesting that!" the girl cries, hands curling into fists. When she whirls around, to meet Luc straight on, she spies a table flying right for her face.
"I AM NOT IGNORING YOU!!" she screams, before she reels a hand back. Jerking forward, the girl punches through the table, arms scraped and cut up by the splintered pieces that soar past. But she doesn't stop; instead, Marisol barrels forward, delivering a punch to Luc's jaw, before she drives a punch into his ribs. With a sudden FWOOSH her fists erupt with chi, two hooks driven into poor Luc's jaw with enough force to stun a bull.
"DO YOU WANT ME TO TALK OR NOT!?"
COMBATSYS: Pas dodges Luc's Large Thrown Object.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Marisol 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/---====|
As she brushes herself off and wipes the trail of blood from her forehead, Pás hears her name spoken. She looks up to find her friend stepping closer and looking very unlike herself. Marisol O'Connell is many things, and apologetic is never one of them. Despite her lazy, good-natured smiling, Pás watches the other girl with an empty look in her eyes, her expression a little flat to those who know where to look.
The Brazilian may not be keen on showing it, but she's hurt. Not because Marisol had hit her -- after all, they are fighters, and Pás loves to fight, loves to hit, and loves more to get hit. Marisol has hit her on a variety of occasions and for a variety of reasons... but never for a reason like that. The context is different now, and it feels so strange. Pás, who had once sworn to herself never to get attached to anything, is far from being able to parse what happened in the hospital room that day, so she doesn't even know where to begin feeling about Marisol's reaction to it.
If one thing was for sure, through all the confusion, she never expected her friend to do that.
But, just as well, she also wasn't quite expecting brash, headstrong, bull-stubborn Marisol O'Connell to apologize for it. And even through her her pounding headache and Luc's distant snarling, the Brazilian girl is listening very carefully. When her friend says she's sorry, Pás watches her for a moment more, blankly, consideringly, before that dismissive look couched in her eyes softens. Her sharp smile gets a dulled edge. And she just winks.
Things seem to be OK. Perfectly even between them. At least until Luc starts throwing tables.
The two girls look up at the same time, Pás' face still haunted by a playful grin from her previous taunts. They both move. As Marisol takes the direct approach, puncturing straight through the first table, the wily Brazilian takes the high road. She dashes forward, suddenly leaping upward, stepping up first onto a chair, then a tabletop, and leaping off, darting through the air and twisting over the careening projectile. It misses her by centimetres.
In her aerial spin, Pás can see her best friend nailing poor German boy with her fists. But if it's a fight they both want, she decides a little teasing is still in order. As Marisol is laying out her attack, Pás is hitting the ground and springing off by one hand, bringing both feet together and swinging an overhead kick straight at the redhead's turned back.
If it connects, there's only one direction it's going to send poor O'Connell: straight into Luc. Lips to lips.
Pás now considers them even.
As chunks of wood and metal go flying around him, Luc has to wonder:
'What the fuck is going on here?'
Really, everything had been so much simpler when he was just alone. Then -girls- had to ruin it. It's always the way. And it's how this all -started- anyway. He was content with just yelling angrily for a new hamburger while chucking the old one at the heads of unfortunate employees. Now?
Everything seems to happen in slow motion. The German hurls the tables. The first is vaulted over nimbly by the capoierista as she uses that agility of hers to hurdle through the air. Pás is ignored at this point; the crash of the table breaking apart against impact with the ground is enough to tell him -that- didn't work out. So, green eyes dart back to the -other- target--
'I AM NOT IGNORING YOU!!'
"Like HELL YOU A--"
Which is just about when Luc gets punched in the FREAKING JAW.
-CRACK-!!
Luc's head knocks into the air before he is assailed by a fist burying itself into his ribs with snapping force. Chi burns, but not nearly as much as the two -further- hook punches to the jaw; his body naturally combats the chi as it rages through him, but the punches? Not so much. Luc goes soaring back in a scenario truly meant for action slo-mos, head rocking backwards as he ascends in a short hop. He lands in a stagger, gripping onto a nearby table to balance himself. He grabs hold of his bag all the tighter, taking a deep, almost -relaxing- breath. Almost.
"I WANT YOU TO JUST NOT BE SUCH A BI--" Luc is stopped, as he notices the Brazilian from behind, and Marisol still in such close proximity--
"What the shit--"
COMBATSYS: Luc gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Marisol 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Marisol dodges Pas' Change-Up Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Marisol 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
Boy does Marisol feel like an ass toward Pás. For once in her life, she's sincerely apologetic to the girl, who did little more than fall victim to circumstance. Right? Right?? Surely she's not crazy enough to fall in love with the likes of Tenma Kiryuu? She's conflicted, yes. But she can't spurn her best friend!
For what feels like forever, Marisol worries. Has she offended her best friend completely? Is she going to earn the ire of the lanky Brazilian girl? In gray eyes rests a distant look of worry, even fear. With a pale face, she waits for an answer - anything. And it comes in a wink.
She'd probably hug the girl, if Luc wasn't throwing tables at the two. Instead, she blazes through it and delivers a savage combo, chi licking down her long arms as she swings both fists. It's enough to send poor Luc staggering away from the force, clearly in need of gripping the table and supporting himself. Swiftly the girl's lips pull into a harsh smirk, eyes half-lidded in smug delight.
"Serves you right, as always, Schroedinger!"
Wait, what?
"ME? ME?? You're the one being a bitch!! What is--??"
From behind, a distant sound of cloth on flesh draws her attention. Looking over a shoulder, she spies a kick aimed right for her face. Almost immediately the girl lashes out and shoves Luc to one side, before she weaves out of harm's way herself. Unfortunately, the girl's knee crashes into a chair, and she spills forward with a loud grunt. She's falling right toward Luc…
She collides with his chest, grabbing his collar and widening her eyes. Though she stops the momentum of her body, her head is still moving forward. Right for his face. Will they..!?
She stops, barely centimeters from his mouth. Gray eyes go wide.
Then, with a shove, Marisol screams and recoils, turning toward the Brazilian girl with an incredulous look on her tanned features. "Pás!!" Her feet move, and the half-Spaniard charges for the girl, a fist swinging outwards, toward her face for a hook to the jaw.
"God! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?"
COMBATSYS: Pas interrupts Hook Punch from Marisol with Light Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Marisol 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/---====|
With a pout and the slightest of sighs, her kicking feet receiving only air, the matchmaking Brazilian flips herself upright, landing delicately to her feet.
Just in time to sneeze again.
"Ha-chin!"
She rubs her face, half-glowering before her mood immediately brightens under the priceless look Marisol gives her. Despite her attempt left foiled, she can't help but laugh about it, raising one hand briefly to press against her grinning mouth. This is too rich. "What?!" she replies ever-so-innocent to Marisol's indignant squawk. "I am being best friends forever! Friends make help, and I am helpings you--"
Marisol's lethal fist careens forward. Pás makes no move to escape it. Instead, she thrusts herself forward, her grin widening to maddening lengths as she steps directly into the attack. She takes the fist straight into her jaw, and the arm along with it, reaching out to snag Marisol by the wrist.
Pás leers closer, beaming one hundred watts of sheer evil.
"--release a little tension...!"
She immediately pulls to turn the redhead around, one leg snapping forward to plant an encouraging kick straight into the middle of Marisol's back and send her right on back to finish the deed.
Poor Marisol.
Poor Luc.
As lost and confused as Luc may currently be, he knows that certain things inherent in this situation can be considered 'bad.' One, Marisol is shoving him, the German's body flailing momentarily as he strikes the ground with a meaty thud. Two, the fact that Marisol is still in the midst of a wild flail, and seems to have lost her balance, sending her on a collision course with the ground. Three? That collision course is straight for him.
"Oh no. Fuck -that-."
BAM. Marisol strikes his chest, her head knocking upwards. Luc visibly flinches, his head drawing away as if the devil was about to devour his face. A few moments of silence pass. Luc creaks open a single, green eye to peer at Marisol, with naught but a scant space of air between her and him. He blinks, slowly, cheeks flushed out of awkwardness but -- even moreso? -ANGER-. There's only a brief bout of relief before--
"Get OFF OF ME, YOU FRE--OOF!"
Marisol is already pushing OFF of him and Luc, for one, is happy for this. Relieved, even. Only irritation manages to strike his face, though, a tribute to the sheer power of his anger. As he lays on the ground, he looks towards the burger joint he had only just assailed. Slowly, his left arm lifts, and -flings- his bag towards the counter. It strikes, skids, and comes to a stop.
"Don't you let -anyone- fucking touch that," he growls to the employee, still covered in condiments from Luc's burger. "If you do, I'll kill yo--MRPHLHEK?!"
That is about when Marisol's mouth collides with his in a single moment where Luc just looks singularly shocked. Eyes bulging wide, cheeks completely red, fingers twitching into fists at his sides... black and blue energy sparking all around him?
"Geff ooff uff meh," Luc mutters against Marisol's mouth, voice and words muffled and slurred by the contact -- but no less ANNOYED.
"GEFF OOFF UFF MEH!!"
And from there, he just EXPLODES.
Energy sears forward off Luc's body as he seeks to SHOVE his hands into Marisol's gut. He doesn't even pause; after contact is made, a vicious EXPLOSION of black-blue fire roars to life against Marisol's gut, to just KNOCK HER right -off- of him. He's in hell. He's in hell. And all he can think about is...
Someone is definitely going to die.
COMBATSYS: Luc successfully hits Marisol with Medium Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Marisol 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/---====|
"B-Best friends!?" the girl cries in response, sneakers squealing softly against the tile floor. Her intent is simple: she simply wishes to turn around and face her friend directly. Not necessarily to give her a piece of mind, but rather to ask why.
And punch Pás in the face.
Much to the half-Spaniard's surprise, Pás does not avoid the kick, or counter it as she's wont to do. Instead, she takes the hook to her face, stepping into the attack without missing a beat. An instant later, the girl is snared, and there's an evil grin on her face. "N-no..!"
Like a deer in headlights, Marisol's expression is stunned and aghast. What is she going to do..?
Her world becomes a sudden blur as the Brazilian spins her around and kicks her in the back, causing the half-Spaniard to stumble forward clumsily with a clearly baffled look on her face, a cry of 'bwah' slipping past her lips as she's kicked in the middle of her back. She spares a brief moment, glancing over her shoulder at the other girl. Why!?
When she turns forward again, she's face to face with Luc Schroedinger.
More specifically, mouth to mouth.
For a moment in time, the silence between them - and the food court - is so dead you could hear a pin drop. Somewhere in that sea of faces, an awkward cough escapes someone. And at its center, in front of the eyes of everyone, Marisol is stunned.
Then she's confused.
And then she's just pissed off.
With a sharp squeal and scream, the girl pulls back - but too slow, the half-Spaniard is. Struck by Luc instead, a burst of fearsome blue-black fire erupts against her stomach and launches her back. When she hits the ground she rolls twice, stopping on her back, gray eyes dizzily looking at the ceiling overhead. Did that just happen?
Did it seriously happen?
"ARRRGH!!"
Kip-upping off her back, the girl lands in a crouch before she springs forward, attempting to drive her fist into Luc's face.
"YOU IDIOT!" she cries. "THAT WAS HER, NOT ME!"
There is only a single sound that dares to fill the silence of Luc Schroedinger and Marisol O'Connell's epic kiss.
And it says, "Click!"
It's the sound that Pás' cell phone makes when it takes a picture.
She can barely breathe as she does so, laughing hysterically as she folds up her phone and quickly slips it down her shirt for safe keeping. She adores her teammates both, would protect them with her life, but that is just too funny not to have a heart attack laughing over.
And it just gets better.
As Luc breaks off their passionate moment to THROW MARISOL LIKE A PILLOW, Pás just loses it, stumbling as she doubles over, holding her stomach with both arms lest it explode open like a Ridley Scott movie from laughing so damn hard. It's just too amazing. It's just too perfect. It's just too fitting.
Pás peeks up in time to see Marisol HIT LUC BACK. She didn't think it was possible for her laughter to get worse, but it does, until the punch-drunk Brazilian staggers brokenly to slump at the counter of one food stand in the mall court, draped there tiredly as a young boy in an ORANGE JULIUS uniform cowers on the other side.
"Shiuuu, does not worry, you think this bad, you should hear making-up sex." Pás amiably tells him, leaning over the counter top. She pauses, then asides quietly, "Hey, is there place where I can put fotografia onto white shirt?"
COMBATSYS: Pas gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Marisol 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Luc dodges Marisol's Fierce Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Marisol 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
There are just no words. No words at all. They'll come soon enough, likely in a tirade of immense intensity. For now, though? Luc Schroedinger just stares on blankly, black-blue chi undulating from his arms in chaotic tongues accented by electrical crackles of power along his forearms. He's almost literally bleeding all that chi now, just from sheer emotional response. Embarassment, confusion, and of course, the Luc Schroedinger staple:
"YOU GODDAMN JACKASS, WHAT THE HELL, I'M GOING TO KILL BOTH OF YOU."
Extreme anger.
Of course, some of what Marisol screeches back at him gets through the German's thick skull as she rushes at him like a crazy woman. 'THAT WAS HER, NOT ME!' she cries. He blinks. He stares at Marisol with an incredulous squint, cheeks still burning despite his adamant wish for them NOT to do that.
"Her?! ... ..." And then it finally clicks.
"-HER-."
Fortunately, Luc's face isn't going to be receiving any more punishment today, with how many times it has been punched, kicked, and -- worst of all -- kissed. As that fist swings forward, Luc ducks -low-, the swinging arm trailing just inches above his head. As it does, Luc does his very best to forget Marisol exists by doing the thing he does best:
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU PSYCHO BITCH!!"
Freaking out.
Shrieking this at the top of his lungs, the German -rushes- past Marisol in a straight charge for the Brazilian. Even as the sickened fighter converses amiably with the frightened Orange Julius employee, said cowering boy might note the fact that an angry, black-haired young man is barrelling towards them like an angry bull.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOUUUUU!!"
Luc's arms rip forward, tearing across the space beyond him in a sudden and vicious cross. The air bubbles before abruptly IGNITING into an 'x' of broiling, black blue flames. The window panes of the Orange Julius explode in a rain of shattered glass from the amount of raw power and teenage confused embarassed flustered boy fury that Luc brings to bear as the chi seeks to tear into her.
"GO BACK TO SPAIN!!"
Yeah!
Click.
Do you hear that? It's the sound of Marisol's heart breaking.
Fortunately for the devious Pás, Marisol is currently occupied in trying to recover from that horrible embarrassment by slamming a fist right into Luc's face. Much to her surprise, however, the Schroedinger heir DUCKS and avoids the attack altogether, eliciting a bemused 'augh?' from the girl as he weaves aside. He's not supposed to do that...
When Luc shrieks, however, the half-Spaniard squares her feet and braces herself for impact. But rather than barrel for HER, the boy goes right past her, straight for Pás as she spreads more awful lies and slander to the Orange Julius worker who very desperately fears for his life.
Especially when Luc comes screaming like a bat out of hell, slinging a burst of chi.
Meanwhile, left to her lonesome, the redhead sulks. What did she do to deserve this? Nevermind she MIGHT have upset her friend, but she said sorry! That isn't anywhere as awful as being forced to kiss the angry, belligerent German boy. The only thing worse than that...
Is kissing Tenma.
Standing there, the redhead looks furious. Hands clutched into tight fists, the girl looks between Pás, then Luc, then Pás again before she just stomps a foot and bites a knuckle. She didn't get a clean hit on Luc. She isn't content - not yet. Gnawing at her bony knuckle, the girl mulls.
Then she drops her hand and charges up behind Luc, attempting to grab him by the collar and garner his attention. Whether or not he'll look at her, the half-Spaniard does not care; either way, she'll punch him in the face, or the back of his head. "JERK!!"
COMBATSYS: Luc successfully hits Pas with Aufruhr Kreuz.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////// ]
Marisol 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-======|
'HER?' Luc demands across the food court.
Distantly, the Brazilian waves at him.
Pás assumes a lazy leaning post against the Orange Julius, wearing one big, sticky, shiteating grin.
While she's long forgiven her poor, undeserving best friend, there are consequences to be reaped when one makes the Brazilian girl fluster in public. She determines to hide her evidence by just acting as much of a jerk as she can. It's called a defensive mechanism, and a fun one at that.
Especially when Luc comes at her like a speeding locomotive. She winks at the trembling cashier boy who honestly isn't getting paid enough for this, pointing one finger to motion him to get down. He does. Really fast.
She breaks away from the counter to stand, widening her stace and taking preparation. Pás seems all too eager to take her lumps. Even if they end up being a few too many.
Caught in the detonating chi that she knows all too well, Pás makes a squeak as she's blasted over the Orange Julius counter, exploding rubble raining down to cover her fallen body.
The next seconds are a deserved silence.
Then:
"...Espanha?"
"ESPANHA?"
Debris fountains upwards as Pás explodes back up to her feet, looking scalded. Her eyes fix on Luc. Her mouth twitches.
Then the lazy, laconic Brazilian is suddenly possessed. English escaping her in her outrage, out of that mouth of hers comes a violent explosion of angry Portuguese, the words machinegunned with blinding speed and brutal ferocity. She spits out curse after curse, SNARLING: "Conas de merda! Vai levar no ilhó, eh?! Eh?!" She snaps the fingers on one hand repeatedly, hissing a harsh breath out through her grit teeth. "Che! Va se foder, seu filho da puta e chupa meu pau! Cabrăo!! Nasceu no cu da sua puta măe e cheira a merda--
"Pentelho!!!" Pás finishes on a breathless roar, left a full-blown mushroom cloud of stung Brazilian pride. Breathing shallowly, she has the decency to stare incredulously at Luc for a whole heartbeat, before she just springs forward to return the favour.
As Marisol comes in close and tries to tether poor Schroedinger by the collar and nail a fist at the back of his head, Pás slides in for the interception. If the fist connects and his head snaps forward, the Brazilian is seeking to catch and ping pong it back with a vicious headbutt.
COMBATSYS: Luc endures Marisol's Medium Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Marisol 1/----===/=======|=======\==-----\1 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Luc endures Pas' Zidane's Revenge.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Marisol 1/----===/=======|=======\====---\1 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/--=====|
Really, Luc's just lost it at this point. Whatever coherency he had was lost the moment his lips touched Marisol's. Now, both she and her Brazilian BFF have to deal with a Luc perhaps even more deadly than berserking Luc:
Flustered teenage boy Luc.
"KILL YOU!!"
As Pás goes barrelling over the counter, fiery whisps of chi still build up along Luc's arms, as if he had just gotten -started- delivering the harshness unto both the girl. Distantly, green eyes look towards the back of the Julius. "Get. OUT. Of. Here." He doesn't need to specify who he's talking too: soon enough, the employees of the Orange Julius are all scrambling to make a break for it -- as well as several customers gathered across the food court. He says nothing else. His hands twitch in complement to his right eyebrow.
"Jackass. Making me kiss -her-. Like I'd ever want to willingly kiss her! What the hell is wrong with you!? Isn't that considered ra--"
He never gets to finish his question, and likely for the best. Because, as his mouth opens, the Brazilian EXPLODES out of the ground in a rain of glass shards and other miscelaneous debris, possessed with rage -- don't ask Luc why, he hasn't said anything remotely offensive that he can remember -- and starts yelling at him in high-speed, confusing words. "... What?" He squints.
"I don't speak moon language, you dumbass--"
'JERK!!'
Luc's head twists, and that's just in time for him to get a good look at the fist flinging towards his head. In his peripheral, he sees Pás launching at him like a rocket, headfirst. His frown deepens.
"YOU'RE THE JERK! BRING IT ON!!"
-/WHAM\-
It's most certainly been broughten.
Fist impacts Luc's head, but for some odd reason? He doesn't even try to maneuver out of the way. At that same time, the Brazilian's head crushes into the other side of his head with a staggering CRACK of impact. Blood flings from Luc's mouth... but he's smiling. And his right arm is glowing. BRIGHTLY. "GRAAAAAGH!!"
The moment that Pás' head crashes into Luc Schroedinger's face he DROPS to the ground in an onrush of force, his fist SLAMMING into the earth.
"I HATE -BOTH OF YOU-! HAARGH!! STUPID GIRLS!"
And that's when the ground explodes.
In four segments, massive walls of black, blue and violet chi rip upwards from the ground in a scenario Marisol should be most acquainted with, Pás slightly less so. Those gigantic walls of pure power begin to rotate, attempting to sweep up both schoolgirls in their enormous path and take them off their feet as the walls rotate faster and faster, becoming a proverbial storm to burn into and tear at both Marisol and Pás, with Luc at the epicentre, shouting out incoherencies about how much he doesn't like Marisol and how girls are probably the most idiotic concept on the face of the planet. The walls move faster, faster, FASTER... until they simply EXPLODE in a bursting rupture, to spit both girls bodily through the air and AWAY from a crouched, panting, and most importantly -angry-, Luc Schroedinger.
"That was a TERRIBLE KISS!!"
COMBATSYS: Luc successfully hits Marisol with Demiurge Trigger.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Marisol 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|-------\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/--=====|
Luc has probably made the worst mistake of his life.
He confused Pás for a Spaniard.
For a moment, the redhead just stands there, a mix of emotion, flustered and angry. But when the Brazilian girl suddenly seems possessed, her fury unrestrained toward the German boy, those features flush again. For the first time since she can remember since meeting Pás, she sees her as she has never seen the Brazilian before.
Angry. Animated. Furious, as she jumps to her feet and unleashes her fury on the German.
Sucking her bottom lip inward, the half-Spaniard stands there, just watching, mulling and trying very hard not to burst out laughing. The barrage of Portuguese is hilarious to the girl, who lifts a hand and bites down on her knuckle. There's only one way this will end for Luc. Painfully.
And hilariously.
Regardless, the half-Spaniard charges in, swinging a fist right for the young German's skull. In tandem, the Brazilian comes forward and smashes her head into his for a devious one-two combo that surely leaves the poor youth buzzing. But just when things cannot possibly get any worse, those gray eyes note the glowing, chi-laden arm of Luc.
She frowns deeply.
"Well, fu--"
That's when the ground explodes in segments of massive chi. She knows this, and how it hurts. She also knows that when she's out of this cyclone of rage from a clearly sexually-frustrated young man, she's going to hurt some people. She'll take them out with her, damn it all. Because it hurts. It really hurts. More so when the walls of energy explode, launching the girl into a wall, causing the cheesy faux ceramic tiles shatter, a dust of white erupting from the Marisol-shaped crater.
Another eerie silence fills the food court.
Then, with an explosion of dust and tiles, the girl charges forward, her arms aflame with yellow chi. Her intention is simple, and she wastes no time; skidding a good two feet her fist glows fiercely before she SLAMS it down and punches the ground open. From below the floor of the mall erupts with yellow chi, chunks of concrete and tile and everything else flying in the direction of not only Luc, but also the poor Brazilian girl!
"FUCK OFF I AM NOT A BAD KISSER!!"
COMBATSYS: Pas endures Luc's Demiurge Trigger.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Marisol 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Luc
[ \\\\\\ <
Pas 1/--=====/=======|
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Pas with Shoot the Moon.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Marisol 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Luc
[ <
Pas 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|
It's a wonder how Pás keeps her pretty little face intact, because she sure as hell knows how to headbutt and knows how to make it hurt.
She steps free from her attack with a wild, barely-restrained grin, all her previous fury so quickly, so easily exchanged for her usual humour. Biting her lip, she aims a wink Marisol's way. Good coordination.
As Luc rails on hopelessly about his unending plight and diplomatically forwards his esteemed opinion of women, the Brazilian student merely hooks a hand on her hip and clicks her tongue, moved by his candor. Angling a smiling look his way, the look in her eyes impish, Pás extends her olive branch.
"Oh Cavalo, always such angrys. Yanno, you let me jes give you handjob, it calm you down fast. Wouldn't take long, maybe twenty--" she pauses, looks him over, "--five seconds, yea. How about it?"
Luc punches the Earth. Marisol starts to swear. And chi just explodes upward. Light scatters from it, highlighting the crazed grin that saddles the Brazilian's mouth. This is what she likes. This is what she wants. She plants her feet. Bring it on.
Pás doesn't even dare disrespect Luc by trying to outstep his attack, taking it headlong and feeling the hurt. The chi tempest takes her for one mean ride, blasting and burning as she goes. Marisol dents the wall. And Pás lands right beside her, the breath coughing out of her lungs, her tattered clothes smoking.
She glances over at the redhead and says, matter-of-factly, "Psiuuu, Marisolas, /I/ think you are very good kisser."
She nods. Then she sneezes again.
"...aieeeee bosta."
Slumping, rubbing annoyedly at her nose, the Brazilian cracks open one eye to catch the familiar flash of dandelion-yellow chi. Oh, that's not good.
A second explosion pelts Pás with a fierce rain of debris, bits and pieces of the mall rotting free in blunt, heavy masses that are going to leave welts for the next month. Moments later, the poor Brazilian girl is staggering free from a dusty pile of broken tile, glass, and mortar, her dark skin and hair swathed white in places with chalky dust. She stumbles forward, bleeding from her temple, one eye shut, nearly falling onto her face when she sprains herself with another sneeze.
And another. And another. And another. And it keeps on going.
About eight sneezes later, the groaning, watery pile of girl is promising, "Ohhhhh. That has it. That has /it./ You two... you want to see a broken?"
Standing tall, Pás' grin goes crooked. Her hands flex, chi sparking between her splayed fingers. She dashes forward, ever so gilded in her showmanship, pushing herself past the debris-choked court and executing a swift seven sisters of front flips, her hands getting brighter and brighter and hotter and hotter each time they touch the floor. The constant sparks start to glow an angry red.
Then, swiftly, she catches herself in a fierce handstand, both palms SLAMMED decisively into the floor. Chi spreads outwards like a red carpet.
The third explosion happens.
Except, this time, instead of world getting blasted outwards, it gets cratered inwards. The floor gives way underfoot.
COMBATSYS: Pas can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Marisol 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Luc
COMBATSYS: Luc endures Marisol's Shoot the Moon.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > / ]
Marisol 0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0 Luc
COMBATSYS: Pas successfully hits Luc with Fevered Earth.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ]
Marisol 0/-------/-======|=======\===----\1 Luc
In the aftermath of Luc Schroedinger's terrible storm of rage and power, he has only one thing to say as he stands:
"NO I DO NOT WANT A HAND JOB!!"
Apparently, amidst all the things that fluster him, roaring that out at the top of his lungs is not one of them. Not that he has much time to ponder over what he's just said, anyway; not when he has Marisol's own anger-fueled assault barreling his way. His arms swipe out to either side of him...
And Luc Schroedinger RUNS forward.
Luc doesn't register Pás' mismangled English as she speaks. All he notices is the fact that she is rushing forward just as HE does towards Marisol's GIANT PILLAR OF DEATH AND DEBRIS. And Luc leaps straight into the fray.
Boom.
In the wake of Marisol and Pás' explosions, a good chunk of the food court erupts in hellish fury. It's a good thing most of the people once here have evacuated; in the aftermath of this fight, not much is going to be left. But then... people at Southtown are sadly -used- to this. Dandelion chi intermingles with the sparkling chi of the Brazilian, consuming and overwhelming Luc, burning away at his shirt and his tie.
Distantly, he is thankful that he left his bag in excellent care of a man he doesn't remotely know.
But it's just a passing thought that is overwhelmed in rage as Luc powers through the combined onslaught. Burnt, charred, bloodied, he seeks to do one thing, and one thing alone:
Kick Marisol in the chin.
"GRAAAGH!!"
From there, O'Connell would be LAUNCHED into the air, just to be kicked again, and again, further and further up until Luc LEAPS into the air, twisting and -slamming- his foot down in an overhead axe blow... combined with a sudden, hammering PILLAR of black and blue chi that erupts from his foot in a massive, fiery ray, meant to send Marisol on a collision course STRAIGHT for the ground below... with Luc soon to follow, striking the ground with a deadened thud.
"'kay sho... mebbe... you not so... bad..."
...
"Zzzzzz..."
COMBATSYS: Luc can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Luc successfully hits Marisol with Anschlag Ereignis.
Glancing Blow
[ \\\\\\ <
Marisol 1/-------/=======|
COMBATSYS: Marisol dodges Pas' Fevered Earth.
[ \\\\\\ <
Marisol 1/-------/=======|
"I don't think he was breast fed as a child," the redhead idly muses, as the Brazilian girl makes her observation. "But I think you've got a point. A little wrist work couldn't hurt him!" The half-Spaniard tosses her head thereafter, a hand waving about as she smirks wide. At Pás' compliment, however, the girl looks briefly flustered before she grins wide and cups her hands.
"Oh, Pás! You're such a great friend! Luc! Luc! You should take her up on her generous offer!
"You really could use one. So angry! Ha ha ha!"
Unfortunately, that isn't enough to spare the girl from the furious gout of yellow energy she wields, as the girl charges angrily forward and opens the earth.
Only after does the redhead slowly and shakily rise up, breathing heavily as she holds her ground. Sagging her shoulders, her white blouse is matted with sweat and hints of red, her form coated in tile dust as she struggles for breath with one eye open. She can barely make out what's going on. She THINKS she sees Pás, and what appears to be sparks.
"Oh no," she murmurs.
When the earth beneath her feet begins to groan, Marisol does something particularly uncharacteristic. She hops up, using tables and chairs and objects caught in the fury of Pás' crackling chi, jumping about and otherwise avoiding the furious, massive collateral damaging attack before she flips back and lands in a crouch.
That's when Luc suddenly appears from the fray of dust and sparks, a kick aimed for her chin. "Wh-what!?" He should be knocked out!
Leaning back, the girl just barely avoids the strike, his shoe's toe clipping her chin, followed by a fierce gout of blue-black chi that licks against her face. Staggering back from the burst, she hits the ground and rolls, avoiding the true brunt of his last-ditch effort altogether.
But damn if she isn't tired.
She rises gingerly, a hand clutching her jaw as she stands up once more. Looking around at the mess, she surveys the damage, and the various employees and patrons alike staring with horror and fear at the trio's sheer lack of self-restraint. Furrowing her brows in response, the girl juts her chest out, arms thrust at her sides as she stands up to their weird looks. But something catches the corner of her eye.
The hamburger employee clutching Luc's bag. Her smile blossoms into a full-fledged sneer.
Dashing over, she scares the crap out of the employee who, in response, throws the bag at her. Catching it with an 'oof,' the girl almost immediately snickers and seeks to open the bag up.
"I bet it's a dress. Hey Pás!" She calls for the Brazilian girl, waving the bag. "What color do you think it is?!"
COMBATSYS: Marisol has ended the fight here.
Luc is unfortunately still very unconscious by the time that Marisol deigns to look inside his bag. Planted face-first against the ground, the angry German looks a little peaceful -- mouth agape, eyes shut, and sprawled unelegantly across the ground. As such, he can offer little in the way of attempted resistance as the devious Pacific schoolgirl snatches up his precious bag, and peers within to find--!?
Something she shouldn't be looking at. For shame!
The contents are fairly high and unusual in their variety, though viewed as a whole they might make more sense than seperately. Within the bag is several other bags, each containing different items. The first is a bag with little more than a wax used primarily for wood polish on surfboards, or more specifically -- oars. Also within, information and a receipt for a canoe that is quite clearly -not- in the bag.
The second bag has a certificate for a day at a nearby, pricey Southtown spa. Also within, much more noticeably, is a turtleneck sweater. A big, baggy, floofy one.
The third bag has contains a teddybear, obviously Christmas-themed; big, furry, and red-and-green. Along with this, there are a pair of high-quality 'speed' boxing gloves within (LIKE SO http://www.rbkdirect.co.uk/_imgs/womens/productimgs/zoom/Silver-Boxing-Gloves.jpg).
Beyond this, there is a final bag, filled with materials for making presents; folded boxes, wrapping paper, and scotch tape. Before Marisol can look at any of these things -extensively-, though? A single, bloodied hand rips forward, taking a solid grip of the back to -tear- it out of her grasp as quickly as possible. Luc stands there with a deep frown, blood caked on his lips and eyes narrowed into a squint. "... -Idiot-. Stop looking through my shit." It's all he can manage to say before twisting sharply on a heel and walking away, limping but steady and quick in his intent to get out of the cafeteria and the mall without another word.
Log created on 01:54:48 12/20/2007 by Marisol, and last modified on 16:45:01 01/04/2008.