#bigbadbaltie

[nobilisseoblige]

If there's one thing Garreg Mach isn't short of, it's rich nobles. Which is perfect for the thing that Balthus needs in this singular moment: gold. Someone said yes to a date-- it means he's gotta find some cash quick, right? This scrawny little guy seems a good enough target. Alright, Balthus. Calm. Calculated. Slow and sneaky. Catching Ferdinand with his back turned takes longer than he'd like, and Balthus reaches for his pocket when he least expects it. Stretch, streeeetch... he wiggles his fingers.... and success! He's got his hand on the wallet, slowly sliding it away-- HAHAHAHAHAH. This guy won't miss a couple hundred gold, would he? Most nobles wouldn't. --And then someone bumps into him from behind. Balthus does manage to catch his balance-- by stumbling forward and smacking Ferdinand in the dead center of his tush with the hand that has his wallet. His expression slowly shifts into something that's a mix of abject horror and unparalleled anguish, because his hands were never meant to lovingly caress a man's supple rear. "OH. OH!!! Dude, I'm sorry. Just, uh, lost my balance! I was looking for something-" Balthus does his utmost to keep from crying on the spot, waving his hands frantically in front of him. Nevermind the fact that he's now waving said wallet very obviously in Ferdinand's line of sight. "It wasn't on purpose, I swear, bro. I swear! It's not like that!!!!! I-- I love girls."

(Is that convincing enough, though?"

PARDON ME?

there are very few sins in the world greater than a hand in the wrong place, and a derriere disgraced!? Ferdinand turned on his heels, flabbergasted that he had become a victim in broad daylight. mouth ajar, back of his hand flipped to try and toss the perpetrator off, Ferdinand caught a burly criminal already profusely apologizing for half a crime. nevermind that he looks like he is about to burst into tears, and nevermind that Ferdinand has bore witness to amateur thievery.

"that is what you are worried about!? unhand my wallet immediately, you fiend, before I relieve you of your hand from the wrist up!" his voice rang so loudly several spectators turned to stare them both down. perching his hand on the sword ever-present on his hip, he used the other to snatch his wallet back before the man simply took a coward's exit, with the limbs and brains of an ox.

"it would be best you stay away from girls as well, you gutless knave! you are the first thief to arrive richer than you leave, since you have robbed yourself of any dignity."

scowling, he expels him with a dismissive flick of his hand. like a rat. or worse. "shoo! go."

"and put on a shirt while you are at it! no one wants to see that!"

[mxlusine]

He thought that after spending enough time in the Church's glorified basement, maybe he'd come to appreciate everything that there was to see on the surface-- turns out, though, the sights aren't any different than he remembers. Except for one specific thing... and Goddess (Or Gods) Above, it's worth it to squint through the sunlight to see this.

Licking his thumb, Balthus carefully smooths it over the bridge of his eyebrow. Can't have anything out of place, after all, and it takes only a fraction of a second to carefully slick back his beautifully tousled raven locks. He's got looks, he's got the swagger. He's got the abs that flex when he sucks in a sharp breath, adjusting his coat to show off just a little more than usual. "Heeeeeey there. Don't think I've had the pleasure of running into you 'round these parts." A click of his tongue and a wink follows as he leans against the wall, flashing his best roguishly handsome smile. Ignore the fact that 'these parts' aren't his normal haunt anyways. "Would be impossible to pass by without sayin' what's on my mind-- especially to a gorgeous woman like you." Just as he's practiced. Adjust the pose.... tilt his chin a little... aaaand... SMOLDER. "Whaddya say to havin' some nice conversation over a hot meal? I'm sure I can finagle somethin' from the dining hall. They don't call me the King for nothin'." He pauses there, reaching up to push some hair out of his face. "The name's Balthus. And you are...?"

He's an impressive figure only as far as height and build go—the kind that might measure up against Mauvier, if Mauvier was the sort to do anything worthwhile with his hands. But Zephia doesn't care for either, and so he's afforded little more than a cursory glance for all his ill-advised efforts at flattery.

"I suppose it'd be terribly rude of me to refuse such a gracious invitation from a king..." again, with the invitation being extremely ill-advised, "...but you'll have to excuse me just this once. I've already eaten, you see, and I don't find the food enjoyable enough to warrant a second helping."

Not that she ever does. Food has always been a matter of sustenance and energy; she'd find equal enjoyment eating the dining hall's culinary treats as she would eating jerky. He would have to be someone extraordinary for her to pretend otherwise, but the fact of the matter remains that he seems to be quite the opposite. There are princes and kings aplenty at the school, all of them cut from the same, tediously-sewn cloth. She doesn't care to get to know another.

"I do hope you'll enjoy your meal, though," she adds, pleasant enough. "Perhaps another time, hm?"

[nagaficat]

Has he died? Ascended to the heavens? Blessed by the Goddess herself? It wouldn't surprise him if this woman secretly had a set of wings that just weren't showing, and he feels his heart flip in his chest for a moment before he gets his bearings. He'd be a fool to pass up this chance to chat, and one thing's for sure-- Balthus ain't no fool. No sir. No sir! Always the master of seizing the moment and living life to the fullest with no regards for the consequences.

A click of the tongue and a deep chuckle is what he can manage as he twirls a lock of his hair around his finger. "Wow. The Monastery's got a lotta gorgeous sights to see," Balthus whistles, leaning against the nearest wall as he winks at Deirdre. "I'd wager you're one of the best ones, though. How's about we ditch the classrooms and have a nice lil' talk over dinner? Your treat, of course."

Dinner already? Deirdre looks at the time and is surprised to see that he is right. It really is already that late. She also just begins to notice how hungry she is and lets out an embarrassed giggle as her stomach lets out a growl that gives her state away. She supposes it would not be so terrible to accept the offer.

He seems friendly enough and she senses no ill will. Even if he does not give his name or ask hers.

"There is a new restaurant in town I've been wanting to try. The entire menu is plant based! Even the cheese! Can you imagine! I know Lord Sigurd would go with me if I asked him but I do not have the heart. The poor man would miss his meat far too much. And I could go alone but that is hardly any fun."

She tilts her head with a smile. She has always enjoyed meeting new people. "Perhaps my new friend might give me his name and join me?"

[extenebris]

Relaxing at the sauna...‎ ‎ 

"So, you checked out much around the monastery yet?" He's making a bold assumption that this guy is new-- spending all of his time down in Abyss means that he reaaaaaaally doesn't stay up to date with the comings and goings of students and professors alike. "I think my favorite spot's the sauna. Whenever my muscles are sore after a workout? That's where I'm headin'." ... Oh. He's a little scrawny, though, isn't he? Maybe using workouts as a point of reference isn't the smartest move. "Or, I mean. If you aren't much into workin' out.... post.... studying? Reading? Soreness?" Quieter, almost as if it was a rhetorical question: "... does that even happen?"

"Unless you wanna come with me sometime for breakin' a sweat. Probably good for you! Whaddya say, pal?"

Perfect Teatime? | no longer accepting

Unfortunately for Balthus, Salem doesn't make much of an effort to help smooth over the way he fumbles his questions, instead staring back at him placidly. Amusement or judgement or disdain might offer a cue for the direction of the conversation, but Salem offers nothing until the man finally settles on his invitation. One of his eyebrows raise slightly in the only indication of interest - or humor - and he cants his head.

There are a few things he could say - in a way, the man reminds him a little of Perne: affable and comfortable to be around despite his shortcomings. But where he might ordinarily needle the Dandelion's leader with a sarcastic quip here and there, he decides to be straightforward with this one.

"I've never experienced a sauna before." 'Experienced' because he has no other word for how one engages with the concept. All he knows is that it's a small, hot room.

"I can't fathom how it would relieve muscle soreness. The heat of the desert where I spent much of my life did anything but that. Come find me the next time you decide to go. I'd like to see it for myself."

Salem sweeps over Balthus from head to toe, marveling for a moment at just how tall he is, size accentuated further by a physique he'd only seen cultivated among the brawniest of woodcutters.

"I will do without the workout though."

But he had to admit: he wasn't half bad to look at.

@bigbadbaltie

[crowsbite]

@bigbadbaltie asked:

You only ever hear about the whole stereotype of tall, dark, and handsome. What about tall, dark, and beautiful? Gorgeous, even? A stare so piercing that even his blood chills a little, a shiver running down his spine-- except that shiver ain't got nothin' to do with fear. He might as well be skipping along like a schoolgirl having the best day of her life before he comes to a halt; a quick tousling of wavy locks, a run of his hand over his chin as if he's a man in thought... "Sorry to interrupt you, miss. But I gotta say, didn't expect I'd find someone as gorgeous as you down in these tunnels." Abyss certainly wasn't for the faint of heart, but something about her demeanor told him that she'd get along just fine here. "Lucky for you, the King's in town. Name's Balthus-- say, why don't you make a deal with me?" With his hand extended, he flashes a wink alongside a lopsided grin. Those roguishly good looks can't possibly fail him now. "Let me show you around some. Maybe chat a little. Some dinner, perhaps?" Well, that part's more complicated. Dining and dashing sounds just fine, and if she's slow, he can throw her over his shoulder, surely. "I'll bet ya anything I can make you have fun. Anything you want!"

Storm-blue scrapes him from extended hand to dopey grin, down then to the toes of his boots and then back. Ursula wears one brow quirked in an expression like amusement, the sort of glance saved for a puppy let off of its leash. "The King?" She echoes the word slowly, serpent's venom softening where her tongue enunciates the final consonant. "My, isn't that a sweet idea?"

She does not reach for or accept that hand, leaves her own folded over her arms with no intention of being elsewhere. Lady Sonia was a woman to regard men as pets in a particular way something unlike that which she did any other humans. They possessed a weakness to her that women didn't, one that made them amusing to play with in entirely different ways. It was a thing of knowledge that she imparted upon Ursula only in such a way for her to use herself where it might never outshine Sonia's own prowess.

"You speak of a deal," she hums, gaze returned to study all the sharp edges in his face, "but it seems I've only heard half of it."

Perhaps she can understand why her Lady would find a creature like this amusing. He certainly is that much, with his loud voice and blindly confident candor, but then Ursula thinks that he would make a rather tiresome pet.

"Unless you are suggesting that your end of such an arrangement is merely my presence," the tilt of her chin curtains her irises in dark lashes, her lips curl in a rather bemused smirk. "That's quite the sweet thought, Balthus. Are the men of Abyss truly so easily amused?"

Ursula doesn't care to hear his answer. It's all a part of a pretty little scene in her mind, one where she leaves him wondering for nights. Her smirk collected once more into a smile that drips in faux politeness, she turns on her heel and makes to stride away.

"Quite charming, though." She calls over her shoulder, a laugh in her voice. "May your luck be better with your next target."

[dcggersedge]

Balthus ain't a quitter. He might've struck out once, twice, maybe about 12 times-- but that's no reason to quit. Not when the next chance might be the one he needs to succeed! That, and, well, shooters shoot. It's never a loss to spend even a moment or two talking to a pretty girl, and the woman next to him is... really tiny, actually. (To be fair, he's just kinda giant.) She's cute, and he can see the lean muscle underneath it all... the type'a' gal that could probably kick his ass. "Hey, we haven't met yet. I think you owe me a drink, though," Balthus hums as he cocks a brow, tilting his chin down to look at her properly. Placing his hands behind his head is all it takes to show off some of his muscle through the fabric of his sleeves, cocksure grin emanating the sort of vibe he wants to give off: confidence. Alpha. A man's man. "When I saw you, you made me drop mine. Guess that means it's only fair for you to replace it over a hot meal and some shared wine? Whaddya say? You down to clown?"

Ew.

It's been a hot minute since Yunaka's had to deal with men who think they're hotter than they are. The entire display is nothing more than tavern-style showboating, and the familiar display almost immediately brings Yunaka back to the same icy attitude she used to greet old clients with before.

Almost, because she grabs and strangles the feeling enough to settle at disinterested instead of actively glaring. She doesn't want to feel that way anymore. Some escaped muscle model who forgot to put on a shirt today isn't going to change that.

"I didn't see a drink before you spoke to me." He's not bad to look at. He'd probably have better odds if he shut his mouth and let his looks do more of the talking. Her eyes linger briefly on the...uniform? Definitely not what most of the students she's seen have been wearing, that's for sure.

She's not necessarily interested and she's definitely heard better lines from better people before, but...well, only an idiot turns down a free meal ticket.

"Making demands off the bat isn't exactly the most charming way to get somebody's attention, ya know." Yunaka leans back until her back rests casually against the wall and looking up at him isn't such a miserable experience. "But if you're offering to treat me, then sure. I can play nice enough for a meal."

If. He's paying.