t h e b l i n d d a t e
“You get that Firewall?” Alistair asked, flashing a toothy grin as his phone’s screen lit up next to him. He glanced down to see “Noel D!ckfingers” written in a text document which he quickly saved with a tap of his finger on the keyboard.
“Consider it done,” Alistair said, scooting back and all but plucking the hamburger out of the waiter’s hands before he passed it to Sabine.
“Us disillusioned types need our fair share of hobbies,” Alistair said with a wink, biting into his burger as the juice soaked into the soft potato bun. “Mmph…shay what you want about thish plashe but they grill a mean dead cow.”
For good measure, he took another big bite before wiping his mouth and chasing it with a drink of water, pounding himself on the chest to help the eighth of a pound of meat down his throat.
“Is it fighting types only then?” Alistair asked. “Because I got a feeling my Goodra could sweep most of the competition; whoever tries to suplex her Olympic ass is only going to hurt themselves.”
“Gosh, as fun as that sounds, I don’t think Gooey would be up for that!” Firewall chirped from his phone as the man at the next table glanced over curiously.
“My phone is probably right,” Alistair shrugged, popping a fry in his mouth. “Girl likes her R&R but Blitz and Kreig would definitely be up for it.”
Sabine made a little ‘o’ shape with her thumb and index. “I look forward to making Monsieur Laurent squirm.”
Talking with a mouth full of food. Charming. Sabine looked down to concentrate on her meal until little bits of break were done flying from Alistair’s mouth all over the table cloth. She couldn’t help but glance to a passing waiter who was grinding his teeth at the primitive display. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she forked more salmon from her plate.
“It’s pretty open, from what I understand. Fighting-types have a genetic advantage but it doesn’t mean a Kangaskhan or Granbull couldn’t put up a decent challenge with the right training.”
Sabine raised her chin to subtly peer at the phone. “Interesting gadget you have there. Porygon or possessed by a ghost?”
Pulling out her own C-Gear, she bluetooth wired the Driftveil Fight Night information to Alistair’s talking contraption.
Completely unprompted, a mauve flash of light appeared in the center of the table and Little E appeared, licking his tiny garbage lips. “Oh no, you don’t.” Sabine reacted quickly, grabbing the Trubbush to hold over her head, “I’m not having you stink up the apartment like rotting fish.”
She glanced to Alistair apologetically as Little E kicked and squirmed in her grip, “Can you get his PokeBall out of my bag?”
