"omg hey ! You're that pretty pro right ? New and upcoming. " cue Catalyst plopping next to the other , drink in hand. — @marcescenx
The twinkle in Basil’s eye widens as Catalyst approaches. Most people don’t recognize Prism Powa at the clubs. With neutral-colored contacts, kitten-buns down in loose curls, and a lack of modest clothing, he is stripped of his whimsical and wholesome hero persona. PR training drilled into him the importance of not being caught by the public eye doing or saying anything that contradicts his marketed image.
Yet the concern of being seen doesn’t strike Basil. He shares a grin, one more toothy and thrilled than the one news cameras are familiar with, and turns his body slightly inward to offer Catalyst his full attention. It took Basil a second to recognize who he was—he’d only ever seen Catalyst in news headlines or in passing at hero award ceremonies, but there was something unmistakable about the look in Catalyst’s eyes.
“Oh, I’m the pretty one, huh? Your sponsorship pictures do you justice, Catalyst, but I think you’re even prettier in person.” The corner of Basil’s mouth tugs in a cheeky smile before he takes a sip of his drink. “I don’t usually bump into other pros around here. Too noisy, or whatever. But I like the music, and the bartender has a heavy hand.”
After a pause, Basil tilts his head in Catalyst’s direction. “You can call me Basil off the field, if you’d like. It’s nice to meet you.”











