; don’t forget to feed the middle man }
sunbin:
The life of a delivery man was not all it was choked up to be. It was hardly even noon and he was already tired, having already had to cycle from one side of busan to the other on an important delivery, and now he was heading to go and back up another package from one of his regulars and now doubt it was going to be big and heavy and he would have it lug it around and probably ware himself out even more. Maybe he should invent in another method of getting around instead of just a bike, but it was not like he had any large Pokemon he could ride around on. So, bike it was.
Pyroar was out running in front of him as he peddled towards Rue’s house, Umbreon just trailing a little behind her. He always took the time to let out the Pokemon who could keep up out to have a run around while he was out on deliveries. There was no point keeping everyone locked away in their balls when they could get in some exercise.
Finally pulling up outside the house, Sunbin pulled to a stop, removing his helmet and hanging it off the handle bars before climbing off. Wheeling the bike towards the wall, he rested it up against the brickwork, leaving his two Pokemon to have a sniff around and a rest as he walked up to the front door, reaching out to knock as loud as he could. Hopefully she would actually be home and he wouldn’t have to waste his time standing around waiting for her. There were other things he needed to do.
she is: flawless pirouettes, stunning timbres and prettiest pouts.
see this. there is little room for error in a pageant queen’s repertoire. she is unfamiliar with imperfections, only that of bruised lines on pretty ankles.
( here, she performs a grand jeté. watch how she moves into starting position. she takes a deep breath before a graceful leap— but mother tuts as critical eyes trace the curve of her spine. you must curve it more, my darling, mother says. the cane strikes her bruised ankles. again. )
she is: pink perfection. ( say it. )
and yet, here is our pageant queen now, tripping ungracefully over both her pokémon and herself as she races towards the beeping of the oven. manicured eyebrows furrow in frustration as she fiddles with the foreign controls of the contraption, and before long, she jerks the lid open, only to be attacked by smoke. rue coughs momentarily at the onslaught, and once the smoke clears, the image that greets her are unnaturally large cookies that are quite imperfect. she frowns at the sight.
( you’d think that for someone who bakes cookies for sunbin without fail every time he comes by, that she’d be somewhat good at it. her only excuse is that she had been experimenting, thinking that it was necessary to reward him with newer, more attractive cookies, given the favour she’s about to ask of him. )
as if she is part of fate’s comedic narrative, the doorbell rings at that very moment.
“coming!” her scream is followed by an exaggerated groan, as she sloppily tips the cookies onto a plate and dashes towards the door. she takes a deep breath before wearing her picturesque smile.
“heeeey, sunbin!”
the tone in which she uses is suspicious at best, but she brushes it aside before shoving the plate towards him.
“i made cookies for you today. they’re extra special!”
a nervous smile. she balances the syllables of her favour on the tip of her tongue, but smartly opts to divert the conversation with the justification of easing him into the idea first.
“so, uh… how’s your day? busy?”
on her lips, a grin. decidedly innocent.
