Description: After an awfully long time of (not really) hearing about each other, Preston and Stasya cross paths! Is it love at first sight, or does the Cold War resurface?! Find out by clicking the link above!
Picture if you will a day most splendid. The sun shining down, the weather nice and warm; birds singing in the air, although that may simply be the closest set of crosswalk lights telling people it's time to cross. An odd country, Japan. But a seemingly normal day, about to be turned askew by the simple arrival of a man unlike ... well, unlike a few other people anyway.
Imagine if you will, a six-foot-six tower of muscle, neatly clothed within the uniform of Pacific High. Preston Alistair Wellington the II stands just shy of stepping onto the property of Gedo, the not-so-unseen boundary that his crossing would mark the invasion of. With his shoulders square and his eyes squinted, he stares at the world through a pair of glasses...
And he stares with open suspicion.
With good reason. While the birds may fall silent as the green crosswalk symbol fades, the situation reveals itself in full. With his oar slanted across those broad shoulders, the boy's free hand is balancing two steaming bowls of ramen. And with so many Asian students going to this school, is it any wonder he stares the way he does?
"No, noooo! They're fuckin' not for any of you! I see the hunger, I know you can't resist these wheat noodles -- or "udon" as you all call it! -- but nooo, they're not for you! So stop squintin' at me and let me through."
But that's the problem, of course; his uniform. Several students seem to be baring his path, despite how hazardous that may be for their health. The Brit doesn't seem willing to back down, however neatly clad he is. He's just a deep breath away from ripping his shirt open... and who really wants that?
Preston's presence, naturally, causes a huge stir among the contingent of Gedo students outside today: all of whom are outside because they are cutting class. And regardless of the direction in which he's actually trying to walk, a cluster of them gather to bar him immediately, like bees swarming. Blocking his way obnoxiously in that territorial, bristling manner, just daring him to try to get through them, they rather bravely hold their ground. You have to give the kids credit, at least, for having some balls.
His endearing choice of greeting probably doesn't particularly help his cause, though.
Eventually, however, there's a bit of a stir from the back of the buzzing, angry group. A distinctly out-of-place blonde can be seen bobbing through the sea of black, navigating through the crowd of gathered, belligerent fellow Gedo students. Because she's a girl, and a white girl at that, she's only let through because she's a Guardian King: though it probably helps that she's also shoving aside anybody who doesn't get out of her way fast enough.
"Hmph. There is nothing to be seeing here. Poshėl ty! Shoo." The blonde finally emerges from the disgruntled flock of students, tossing her hair back as she loftily regards Preston. It takes a moment, but recognition soon dawns in her grey eyes. "Hm... you are with Pacific Resistance. I remember you." A grin flits crookedly across her face, her head tilting at a curious cant. "What brings you all the way out here?"
And just when things were looking like they were going to get violent -- like the boy was going to have to lift that oar from his shoulder -- it seems that a rather out-of-place character has stepped out to forestall the pain. So, Preston's gaze shifts, picking the blonde out as she speaks up.
Then she claims to know him, stating his affiliation. The boy has no immediate response, simply squinting down at her as he attempts to put a name to the face. "Uh," he finally sounds, the oar shifting to scratch the back of his head. The expression says it all; he has no idea who she is, despite the fact that they've crossed paths briefly. That was some time ago, after all. "Yeah, I remember you," he lies, one shoulder lifting into a shrug, "Can't remember the name though."
He spares a glance at any of the Gedo loiterers who choose to continue doing that. His lips twitch, teeth shown before he returns his attention to the blonde. "Sorry, what was that?" he seems to have forgotten her question, before simply moving to another topic entirely -- one that's really playing on his mind. "What the hell are you doin' at a school like this? You don't seem to fit in, if you know what I'm sayin'. This is where I'd be pullin' my eyelids all slitty-like, but my hands are kinda full."
That Preston, he's definitely a charmer.
"You," Stasya observes, grinning unruffledly, "are a terrible liar."
She crosses her arms, looking coolly up at him, seeming as patient and temperate as her teammates are rude, eccentric, and loud. "I don't blame you for to not remember," she eventually continues, speaking in Preston's native English-- which, notably, is a little worse than her Japanese, these days. "I don't expect any body from your school to be able to remember their -daily routine- without either day planner or live-in nanny: much less names."
She squints critically at him. "And you don't look like day planner type."
A few moments pass. Then she gives an airy toss of her hand, letting it all go. "Am member of Guardian Kings. Stasya. Your team leader does not like us much..." And she trails off a little as Preston gets Racist. She processes his words quietly for a moment, before she observes rather simply, "Am guessing she is not sending you to make peace."
She slants a unimpressed gaze back over at him. "As for why I go here... how does it go? Is 'for me to know.' Reason is not important anyway." Of course it is.
Thankfully after spending so long in the country, Preston has gotten rather good at deciphering the "local' approach to the Queen's English. And while Stasya's attempt may differ from those who are truly squinted, he nevertheless perseveres.
The fact that she catches him out so swiftly brings a slight grin to the boy's face; he doesn't attempt to deny it, not when he's faced with an attractive white girl -- who, as it turns out rather swiftly, is able to slide in quite the barb. "Stasya," he repeats her name rather than rise to the comment. "Preston," he introduces himself in turn, affiliation unneeded. "Well, whatever your reason is, guess it doesn't matter much. Long as they're not tryin' any of their usual hentai bullshit on you, right?"
Without missing a beat, he moves on to another topic. "Nah, not here to make peace, just aimin' to give that Tenma bloke a little belated 'thank you' for the hand he gave me a few months back." The ramen is shifted, the gift made clear.
"Noticed he won that belt on the telly the other day too. If I were him, I'd be expectin' that 'team leader' of mine to be showin' her face around here pretty soon to challenge him. He better be ready for it."
It does help that Stasya can cheat a little bit when it comes to lie detection: though really, the expression was enough. People's empathic signatures usually change at least a little bit when they're not being entirely truthful, after all.
And while she -had- been preparing herself in case Preston was the belligerent sort to get up in arms and escalate an insult war, she seems happy enough to sit back and let it go, like water under the bridge, when the boy just grins and offers his name. She relaxes into a more friendly look, tilting her head, grinning at his expressed hope that the Gedo kids aren't being the pervs their Japanese lineage should dictate they are.
"Is true girls are rare here," she concedes. "But nobody really bothers me." The implication there is that everyone knows better -than- to bother her.
Her eyes shift to his burden once he indicates what he's here for, and a brief look of surprise flickers in her eyes before they soften into a gentler look. "Oh, Tenma. I think he chose this as his day off from school," she explains in a matter-of-fact way, as if planned class-cutting were routine at Gedo. Which it is. "I am sure you can find him later." She taps at her lips thoughtfully. "And if he is smart, he's training -for- the day Marisol kicks his door in to challenge him: because I am thinking it -will- happen."
"Chose it, huh?" Preston echoes the words, before he gives a slight shake of his head. It would seem that he's against such a decision. Reading between the lines, he sees precisely what Tenma -- and what most of Gedo -- choose to do. Skipping school... just how easy do these kids have it? He laments the public school system that has resulted in such delinquency. "Well I'm not gonna walk the fuckin' ramen over to his cardboard box. You eat this shit?"
The hand is finally lowered within reach of those who go to the school. It's a fairly simple curry udon, the meat minimal but the flavor superior. "It was cheap," he adds, taking all the 'thought' out of the thank you. With Tenma not actually around, he figures it doesn't hurt to explain.
It may be in her best interest to take it, but why spoil that surprise? He discusses the rivalry between their leaders while holding it out. Large hands, he has. "Yeah, pretty fuckin' obvious they'll be bumpin' heads in the future, if not somethin' else," he fails to elaborate. "Funny that you're runnin' around with a pack like them. You know one of 'em's a terrorist, yeah? That shit just ain't right."
One of his hazel eyes clears though, as he speculates about the girl; "You must be somethin' to run with 'em. Didn't catch much of what you could do in that fight we all had..."
Stasya doesn't even seem to notice Preston's censure, and it probably helps that she's not actually looking at him at that precise moment in time. Cutting class is so commonplace at Gedo that it doesn't even occur to her that he might be shaking his head at their antics. She looks back, however, when he declares that his thank-you will only go so far, and when the (cheap) gift is proffered, she just takes it. Good thing she's so easy-going, else she wouldn't be able to put up with -either- of the teams.
"I will hold onto it for now," she allows, setting it aside on a nearby bench. It's eyed, but nobody else goes near it. Stasya has at least that much respect from the Gedo students, despite her gender and her whiteness.
She turns back in time to be told exactly who she's keeping company with. "A terrorist?" Stasya laughs, looking genuinely amused-- and then, noticing that he doesn't really look like he's joking, she corrects her expression to something a little more sombre, inquiring quasi-seriously, "Which one of us would that be?" She might be surprised at the answer-- or actually, maybe not.
In reality, Stasya is probably the closest thing to an actual terrorist GK has; she does not volunteer this information, choosing instead to zero in on that thing all young fighters can recognize: a challenge to fight. Lacing her fingers and crackling her knuckles, she considers him quietly a moment. "I admit," she eventually replies, "I've been curious about you also."
"Don't know his name," Preston replies, watching as his gift is set aside. He begins to speak up about that, but when nobody makes a sudden leap for the noodles he simply closes his mouth with a click. Is it out of respect for this girl that they're not stealing her food, or is he entirely wrong about their behavior?
Either way, he shrugs and lifts his own bowl up, tipping it back as he opens his mouth wide. In what may potentially be a startling or horrifying event, the ramen -- noodles, soup, curry and all -- slides out of the bowl and into his mouth, disappearing within moments. How he does it without causing massive harm to himself or choking may remain a mystery, but there's a satisfied smack of his lips afterwards. "Little spicy," he warns her, before ambling away.
Is their fight destined for another day? It seems he's instead simply conscientious, managing to find one of the few public trash cans to dispose of the bowl. He pitches his voice to be heard as he ambles to and fro; "But yeah, not sure what his name is. The Asian guy with the hoodie. Not the wimp who dresses like a pirate."
Returning, he shifts the oar off of his shoulders, letting the butt hit the ground with a solid wooden thunk. He takes the glasses off his face, folding the legs and sliding it away into a pocket. "Curious about me, huh? Well, don't make me blush, luv. If you want to dance, I've got five minutes."
Stasya is left to stare after Preston as he completes that seemingly impossible feat. A hand lifting, she ruffles bemusedly through her blonde hair, before she simply... shrugs, and decides not to think about it too hard. Instead, she watches him as he meanders away and then back, looking somewhat amused; an expression which only intensifies when he clarifies who he's talking about.
"/Hakuya/? He i--" Stasya pauses. She shuts her mouth on her words, considering a moment. Well-- to those who don't know him, she does suppose that Hakuya could be a little... strange. Or intimidating. Perhaps it's the perpetual happiness; for whatever reason, people seems to inherently distrust that. "He's not a terrorist," she eventually finishes lamely.
She's not likely to convince Preston, especially not with that doubtful pause. But the awkward moment passes quickly, the girl shaking her head once before throwing her hair back and rolling a shoulder, gearing up for a spar. She eyes the oar with a wary sort of look, carefully noting how he holds and uses it, before she steps up and falls into a loose and casual stance.
"Five minutes then," she agrees, before she darts forward, landing lightly just before Preston. She sets her stance, pauses an instant, and then spins a heel up, her torso flicking nearly parallel to the ground as she hooks a kick at him. That strike doesn't come unaccompanied, however-- halfway there, it suddenly ignites with red energy, the lot slashing towards Preston's side.
COMBATSYS: Stasya has started a fight here.
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Stasya 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Preston has joined the fight here.
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Preston 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Stasya
COMBATSYS: Stasya successfully hits Preston with Medium Kick.
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Preston 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Stasya
The denial about Hakuya's dedication to Osama and all things terrorist related simply earns a snort from the Brit. It seems he doesn't believe it, not with what he's seen with his own eyes. Instead, talk of her teammates dwindles as a time limit is set; five minutes for them to knock the ever-living crap out of each other. Seems to him like too long, but maybe they'll stop to chat somewhere in it.
How he intends to fight with the oar doesn't seem immediately clear; is it spear, or stave? What does become more immediate is the sudden burst of energy that encompasses Stasya's leg, the half-Russian's surprise earning a widening of Preston's hazel eyes. Thus, she penetrates, an attempt to lessen the damage and cushion the blow failing as the energy explodes against his side.
Staggering back and to one side, he whirls, the expression on his face swiftly shifting to one that's more promising pain than surprised. "Nice trick," he compliments her, the oar lifting before him to twirl from hand to hand. Stave, to start with. He steps forward, the weapon still spinning to keep Stasya at bay if not force her back, the boy waiting for the right moment to lash out.
And thinking he finds it, he does so. With a grunt, he lunges forward, seeking to entwine his fingers into that pretty blonde hair of hers and slam her face-first into the blade of the oar before discarding her.
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Stasya with Random Strike.
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Preston 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Stasya
Five minutes probably will be too long, for these two. Stasya has that feeling already. She isn't offering to chat, however-- once she sees he's ready, she simply jumps right in, swinging a sharp kick into the young man... and finding he's about as tough as he looks.
She recoils quickly, not wanting to get caught while she's off-balance, backing up a step or two: and then another, once he turns back and that oar begins its dizzying spin. Nice oar, is her quick rejoinder to his compliment, her eyes watching the weapon instead of him. This, however, proves to be a mistake; though one that she'll learn from. Don't focus on the weapon to the exclusion of the wielder!
When Preston moves, his sudden attack is distinct enough from the blur of his oar that she misses it, due to her focus on the latter. A last-minute attempt to defend herself falls short, the girl caught soundly and smacked jarringly into the rowing implement for her pains. Tossed away, she stumbles a bit before recovering her balance and wits, shaking her head. She wants no more of that.
She's quick to turn her stagger into a retaliation. Her backwards progress turns into a sudden backflip, the girl proving her adroitness in that seamless movement. A vertical array of psionic bolts slings off her leg mid-flip, sent arrowing at Preston in a crescent: she lands, twists into another horizontal flip, and swipes another arc of energy at him, perpendicular to the first.
COMBATSYS: Preston blocks Stasya's Chandrahas.
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Preston 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Stasya
There's a definite smirk on the Brit's face as his assault proves successful. Discarding her like the riff-raff she hangs out with, he waits to see just how she'll retaliate -- and boy does she! The backflip turns into something else as the bolts fly forth, and it catches him right as he's charging forward, allowing her no quarter.
"Fuck," Preston growls the word out quietly as he lifts the oar in front of him, the blade kept flat to catch the bulk of the crescent. The second, sent after she lands, he simply slashes through; the energy still rolls over him, hurting him, but it seems superficial at best. The real problem comes from the slowing effect it has, his forward charge interrupted and stalled.
Regardless, he grits his teeth and closes the rest of the gap. With a roar he slams his boot down, heaving his body forward as he thrusts the oar forward; a spear, now. The blade whistles forward, aiming to catch Stasya square in the sternum and send her flying back onto her home territory, into Gedo proper, and he'll gladly invade right after her. Already his adrenalin churns, preparing his body to go even further than it normally would.
COMBATSYS: Stasya interrupts Bunting Tosser from Preston with Angurva'del.
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Preston 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Stasya
Most, when faced with a huge Brit bearing down on them with an oar, wouldn't run -towards- him. Stasya, apparently, is not most people. When Preston plants and sends that weapon spearing straight for her, Stasya is -right- in his path: and still advancing The blade of it slams into her even as she starts a leap to try to clear over it, knocking a sharp gasp out of her, but before she can be punted away, she's latched onto the oar itself: holding on for dear life as the momentum of the strike shifts her entire lower body back.
Her shifted stance only facilitates what happens next. Her hands abruptly twist on the oar, pushing downwards in order to force the thing closer to the ground and give her leverage. She then vaults straight onto the weapon, flipping her lower body up and over with her hands as a pivot point, not unlike a gymnast cartwheeling in place on a balance beam. Landing her heels on the weapon haft, she lets go with her hands and flips back upright: pushing off the oar to send it plowing into the ground, and its wielder stumbling.
Her lunge takes her straight into Preston, angry red psi sheathing her hands as she homes in with a series of open-handed strikes. She doesn't stay long, not wanting to leave herself open to being -hit- again: she knows she can't take many more direct attacks from him. She breaks away, veering off as she tries to get some distance before he can retaliate in kind.
Now THAT proves interesting. It's a rarity that anyone attempts to do more than just throw their body onto the oar; that happens about half the time he tries to stab someone, oddly enough! But Stasya pulls off something different, turning the fast thrust to her advantage. Within moments, the oar is grounded and Preston is caught low, the girl wrapping her hands in that potent red psi to give the tall brute what-for.
And what-for indeed! By the time she's done with those open-hand strikes, the Brit looks angry, defiant and -- most of all -- he's left seeing red as she hightails it out of there. In what may be frustration, he slams the blade of the oar down, cleaving into the pavement. It stands there on its own merits as he watches her flee. "Saucy little bitch," he growls, vulgar as only he can be, the words little more than a verbal flog as he sizes her up...
Suddenly, his grip on the shaft shifts; a tremendous roar bellows from deep within his chest as he surges forward two paces, literally ripping the oar through the pavement. But it doesn't stop there, as he arcs the weapon up high in front of him -- the ground continues to surge forward, a wave of pavement and pavers cascading forward in a crushing tide!
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Stasya with Devil Seam.
- Power hit! -
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Preston 1/------=/=======|=======\===----\1 Stasya
Circling in a wide strafe around Preston, Stasya suppresses a flicker of a smirk as Preston flings his imprecation. If she were the type to be bothered by vulgarities and insults, she'd never have lasted longer than a week in Gedo. She says nothing for the time being, her pace slowing as she watches him carefully. She's not sure what he's going to try next-- she's not familiar with how he fights at all.
And so, when he lunges, her first impulse is to retreat a few paces and set up a defense. She's expecting a physical strike. Preston comes up extremely short, however, and it soon becomes clear why; the actual attack is the tremor set up by the movement, as well as the ripped-up pavement.
Off-balance from her misjudged attempt to guard, the girl is struck particularly squarely, sent tumbling right back into Gedo's grounds. A mess of tangled blonde hair and limbs, she comes to a stop-- and for a few moments, just kind of lies there, loath to get up. Her eyes narrow up at the sky. Good God, she decides, everyone on the Pacific Resistance team hits like a runaway truck.
She sits up, finally, blood running down her face from a cut along her temple. She pays the injury no attention, instead fixing a severe sort of look on Preston. "Okay. Now, is annoyed."
COMBATSYS: Stasya focuses on her next action.
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Preston 1/------=/=======|=======\===----\1 Stasya
And THAT is somewhat satisfying for Preston. He watches as the wave surges forth and strikes true. As far as being a runaway truck goes, this guy is likely the biggest of them all. As Stasya falls, he lifts the oar up, shaking away remnants of pavement as he slants the weapon across his burly shoulders. His free hand lifts, knuckles popping as he cracks them in slow succession. It's all designed to give her time to get back to her feet; he doesn't press the advantage immediately... mostly because, for what he has planned, he doesn't think he has to.
Exhaling a slow breath, the Brit slowly lifts the oar off his shoulders, holding it to the side with one giant hand. "No need to be shootin' daggers my way there, luv. You're not dealin' with your average bear here." He figures, Russian's must deal with bears often. Something like that.
What's going to prove more annoying for Stasya though, potentially anyway, is the sudden swell of chi that manifests beneath her. The ground turns an odd white-blue as the energy offers but a moment's warning before it surges together, the focal point beneath her feet as it explodes upwards in a geyser of chi.
That could potentially be the least of her worries. Preston leaps at her before the energy surges, aiming to meet her either in the air or where she stands, that oar of his thundering down in a vicious overhead aimed to knock her lights right out!
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Stasya with Azimuth Circle.
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Preston 0/-------/------=|=======\=======\1 Stasya
Dragging the back of her hand across her face, Stasya pulls herself back upright: tossing her hair back with a light 'hmph.' But for all she's considering him carefully, she's too untuned to chi energy to be able to tell at all when it's gathering. She realizes it too late, and by the time she does she's caught dead in the center of all that force.
The girl is -flattened- by the subsequent attack. Her light-looking frame shouldn't be -able- to take the kind of punishment that ensues, and it's only a twist of her body and shift of her weight to meet the blow in the best way possible that enables her to weather through it. As it is, she recovers faster than one might think possible for a girl of her build, slowly sitting up to a kneel, dazedly shaking her hair out of her face, and looking back up to lock back onto Preston.
She doesn't try to get up. In fact, she just frowns, grey eyes narrowing. "Oh, I think there is need for daggers. After all, you are not 'average,'" she comments in reply: and then she presses her hands harder against the ground.
A surge of psi accompanies the movement, a flash of red bolting down into the ground. There's a few moments of nothing, and then all that psi reappears again to greet Preston's descent in a sudden tearing forest of spearlike psi, sprouting up from the ground in chaotic rows Perhaps she -was- a little annoyed at the language young Wellington employed earlier, after all?!
COMBATSYS: Stasya successfully hits Preston with Alkonost.
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Preston 0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Stasya
Floating (?!) over a seemingly fallen Stasya, the Brit has to wonder if he's finally managed to land the felling blow; is this over? Lazily, tiredly, he lifts the oar back onto his shoulders as he falls back down towards terra firma. All in all, he isn't too far off when he hears her talking to him -- and the words bring alarm!
Due to his proximity, his chances of managing a miraculous dodge are precisely zero. So he doesn't even attempt it; instead the oar comes ripping off his shoulders in a last-moment attempt to defend himself from harm!
Suffice it to say, it doesn't work. The sudden forest of spears that surge from the ground to assail him. There's no where for him to go, and before he knows it he's being speared this way and that, the energy tearing into his body. The damage proves somewhat catastrophic, but to cut a long story short he eventually finds himself lying on his side, a fair distance from where the whole thing started, the oar lost along the way. His shirt is rather ripped, and there's a sudden pool of blood next to his mouth from where he abruptly spits out a heavy mouthful of scarlet.
Lifting himself back to his feet, he gives his head a heavy shake to clear the rather impressive bout of cobwebs that are clouding his vision. With another spit, followed by a growl, he stomps over towards Stasya. Passing his weapon, he puts the toe of his boot under the shaft of the oar and kicks it back up into his waiting, eager hand.
"Alright, let's end this, shall we?" he says, and opts to keep it simple.
The English like their football, you know? Preston aims to prove that, suddenly quickening his step to deliver a vicious swinging punt right into Stasya's side. With luck, it will be crude but effective.
COMBATSYS: Stasya fails to interrupt Light Kick from Preston with Cortana.
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Preston 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Stasya
COMBATSYS: Stasya can no longer fight.
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Preston 0/-------/=======|
Standing out of her attack, letting a smirk flicker across her face-- she doesn't in the least look penitent about the damage she's done, in large part because Preston seems to weather through it better than most-- Stasya watches Preston carefully as he stomps grumpily towards her. Her outward appearance of calm is somewhat deceptive, however-- she is barely keeping herself awake, much less upright and cognizant.
Let's end this, Preston suggests. The smile vanishes into a look of attentiveness, though it doesn't leave her eyes. "Then it will end," she decides, but she doesn't exactly specify how.
It's because she knows what she's about to do carries risks. Preston lunges abruptly towards her, swiping in an attempt to put her out of the fight: the girl reaches out again, her intent to take advantage of his attack again to swing around and deal the young man a sharp jolt of psi. She misses by instants, struck before she can get a good grasp, and she hits a wall some feet distant. This time, she does not move to attack again.
"Ended," she concludes after a moment, spitting blood and looking rather pleased with herself. As an afterthought, she glances over at the ramen, which is miraculously still untouched-- she then looks back at Preston. "You are not bad."
Now indeed, it does end. Rather than take the jolt of psi, the Brit follows through with that vicious kick that sends the girl flying. Heaving a heavy breath, he watches as she hits the wall and then doesn't really seem to move for a little bit of time. With a scratch of his head, he waits to see if she's got anything left in her... and it doesn't seem she does.
Shouldering the oar, Preston ambles over, looking down at her as she spits up blood. "Ah, that's a sight to behold," he says to himself, somewhat sarcastically at that. He doesn't mean anything by it, but then she compliments him.
"Not so bad yourself. Fuckin' nearly tore my arm out of the socket with that nasty spike thing at the end there. And fuck me, another shirt ruined," he laments, looking down at the tatters of what he's wearing. With a heavy sigh, he starts walking away. "Anyway, enjoy the noodles. Hit me up sometime if you want to, y'know, do this again or catch a movie." What. "You can tell Tenma 'bout the noodles if you want, but I'm not gettin' him another bowl. Useless lazy bastard..." The last is mumbled as he wanders away, seemingly into the unknown. Or down towards the docks, or a tailor; whichever he happens to pass first.
Log created on 00:52:52 08/03/2008 by Preston, and last modified on 01:34:50 08/07/2008.