“You wear that getup almost every day. It’s wild, you know? Every day, every season ... how do you do it?” Joachim snickered.
“But I don’t wear it every day,” Quill replied. “You have seen more in more casual clothing, I know you have. How would you just notice this? And --” he sniffed the air near Joachim’s face, “is that alcohol? Have you been drinking?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Quill,” now Joachim was a bit irritated. “Only a little. I’m not even drunk. Calm down.”
The both of them heard a pair of voices just then.
“Excuse me,” was the first coherent phrase they heard:
“Well, say somethin’! I said excuse me and everything.” it was a Bisharp, and her Lycanroc companion. The Bisharp had a fair amount of studs and spikes on her person ...
“But you did not even give us time to reply?” Quill said. He stared at her quizzically.
As for Joachim ... well. This Bisharp certainly did not disappoint, at least not in the looks department. He gave her a grin to start.
“You know,” he began. “Not a lotta Bisharp in these parts. But lemme tell you-- “
She swiftly moved past him, entirely uninterested in whatever he had to say. Oh, no. Her sights were elsewhere. In the blink of an eye, she had closed in on Quill, who backed a way a bit, startled by her sudden movement.
“Lookit that hair. I bet it’s real soft, huh? And how ‘bout those legs?” she was looking him over, not even trying to be subtle. Joachim just threw his hands into the air. Whatever.
“Ah, well, you see,” Quill chuckled nervously. It was not the attention that threw him off, but rather her overbearing manner.
“Maybe you’d like to show me a good time later this week?” she asked. “I’m a bit busy today, but--”
“God, Maxine,” the Lycanroc finally spoke, interrupting her. “He doesn’t even know your name. You don’t even know his! Slow down!”
Maxine backed away, giving Quill some breathing room. “Aww, Heather. You know I was just messin’. You think I’m that rash?” she turned to look at Quill again. “Still cute, though.”
“You’re shameless,” Heather said, to which Maxine grinned triumphantly.
“What’s the shame in telling a fella he’s good lookin’?”
“You did more than just -- oh, never mind.” she placed her paws on her sides, and this time, she addressed Joachim and Quill. “Well, I’m Heather and she’s Maxine. And you two are?”
“It’s Joachim, but just call me Jo,” Joachim shook her paw. “The beanpole with the dated hairstyle is Quill.”
“Dated?” Quill’s voice rose. “It is not dated! It is groo--”
“Please,” Joachim cut him off, “Stop using that word. ‘Groovy’ is never going to come back into fashion, I promise you.” Quill shrugged, and Maxine found the whole situation quite amusing.
“That gremlin of yours is pretty snippy, inn'he?” she asked Quill.
“Gremlin?!” now Joachim felt insulted.
“Anyhoo,” Maxine continued. “We’d heard of a local band ... Pluminescent? We were hoping to meet ‘em. The two of you looked like bandies to me, so...”
“You got it. I’m the guitarist. Quill’s not part of the band, but he’s workin’ with us this time around.”
“Ain’t that nice. The three o’ us -- Heather, our other bandmate and I ... we don’t usually come to little backwoods places like this, but we though we’d give it a shot. You know, for the festival thing. We’re gonna be performing.”
“That sounds fun!” Quill told them. “We will look forward to seeing you there.”
