#executiveofmalice

[interimrocketboss]

executive-of-malice replied to your post: ((i’M SO SORRY I’M LEAVING I FEEL REALLY BAD LEAVING ARCHER ALONE SOB….;;;w;;;))

((ahhh thanks!! ;w; I hope you have fun rping, too~ hopefully you’ll get more team rocket members soon!))

ooc: Oh, you'll see.

This quiet period is the perfect excuse to TAKE OVER THE WORLD.

[adminhomura-blog]

A working man :: Open

(5) New people are following you:

mar-te

executive-of-malice

crimson-eyed-kuudere

sweetheart-of-virdian-forest

coquettishcrown

The air is exceedingly warm in Slateport even at dusk. The smell of brine rolls off the sea creating a sense of being directly on the beach rather than near the famous open air market.  The waves can be heard lapping against the nearby rocks and the view from here is nearly priceless. It’s hard not to feel relaxed in the more ‘serene’ part of Slateport, which made it an ideal place for a restaurant such as the Nautical Mile, a small yet bustling establishment just north of the bazaar. Large doors remain open letting in the breeze from the sea roll in, snippets of conversation and laughter filter out in to the street, it’s nearly impossible to get a seat at rush hour and many aspiring patrons wait out on the patio to be seated.  Amongst the many packed tables a young man sits alone, at one of the few tables with remaining seats.

He wears the uniform of the other waiters, a deep maroon polo emblazoned with the restaurants logo on  the side of his chest, opposite of a name tag with a pair of khakis. The color seems to suit him in a way, ironically enough he’s very used to wearing a uniform of this shade though those days are far behind him. His name is Homura Inoue, and if you’ve kept track of the criminal prosecution of Team Magma three years prior you are likely to be aware of just how dangerous he is. If not? He appears just like every other worker; a painted on smile with a matching set of weary eyes. Unlike the others who are busy at work however he’s leaning back in his seat, plum colored eyes staring listlessly out on to the ocean. Despite this none of the other waiters seem keen enough to bother him, most just shooting him a dirty look in passing. He’s aware of their frustration but pays it no mind, knowing that no one was typically ballsy or senseless enough to approach him. 

That was of course until close footfalls alerted him to a new presence approaching his table. Turning his head slightly he sighs as if this new person was heavily impeding on him despite most likely just needing a seat until a spot opened up in the restaurant. His lips press in to a firm line and he crosses his arms- a customer, lovely. “You don’t need anythin’ do ya?” His eyes scan the patron languidly, his drawl all too indicative of the poorer parts of the city. “’Sides you ain’t gonna get anything from me, try some other sap.” Without another word his eyes sway back to the ocean, fully expecting the individual to just leave as per usual.