@shadowtag ASKED: "---give it back." how mysterious, really. for someone to wake up with both their hairbrush and toothbrush misplaced, standard quality of life things, and it not be of their own doing. who, then? how, and when? the long-haired galarian that thinks minor inconveniences like these will get her to leave the dojo is obviously the primary suspect, so her glare falls upon him alone. "if they're mysteriously in the lake, you're going to be a body at the bottom of it."
she irritates him with every curve of her lips, every breath she takes. each word she utters &&. every slight of hand chips away at him with the crescent shape of her nails, all while she commands his rightful spotlight in the same despondent, apathetic curl of her fingers. it burns him worse than the cool cast of her gaze, prickling beneath his skin &&. strengthening the flame that licks &&. gnaws at the pit of his stomach. it dredges up the taste of defeat on his tongue like bile each time he recalls the humiliation of his loss, &&. slim fingers nearly pull the knot around his hair tight enough that his scalp aches.
it’s fortunate that her words rush to stitch away his open wounds before vice oozes out, molten &&. charring. they lack the cut that she so badly wants them to have, even if she’s whittled down the point of her tongue.
in its wake, amusement blooms in his chest --- displaced satisfaction at her apparent ire. it’s obvious between the both of them who committed such an atrocity; as far as avery’s poor, precious pride had been concerned, retaliation had been deserved. from an outsider’s perspective, she hadn’t done a thing wrong: but in his eyes, her gravest misstep began as soon as she’d bested him in a spontaneous battle. in a world --- his world, misshapen by expectation &&. pressure much to lofty for his weak shoulders to bear, revolving around his manufactured ego’s orbit --- of any other, she had left him with enough humiliation to blanket him on his deathbed. she had pushed him down from his perch, &&. then dangled reason over his head that he chased &&. clawed after to regain his footing, to prove to her that he was the better trainer, that he had so rightfully deserved her admiration, that she had no right to be so smug.
it takes everything within him, as he relishes her frustration like a sweet to savor, to bite back the nasty, catty grin that begs to pull at his lips. not the pretty, fake smile, the one that could convince anyone who’d cross paths with him that he was nothing more than an affable, altruistic gentleman. no, it was the ugly, real smile that stretched wide across his face, grew teeth, reached his eyes as he glowered down at anyone his complex deemed inferior. he catches the sight of her in the mirror, behind the overhead lighting’s glint on his glasses, posture folded in on itself, arms crossed, scowl apparent.
how charming. ( he wasn’t at fault. SHE was. )
he opts to bite on the insides of his cheeks instead, swallow it down &&. shift to a shade of offense. a scoff rolls off of his tongue, cuts itself on his teeth as he softens the ‘shock’ on his face &&. directs a glare at her reflection.
❝ how DARE you? first you have the audacity to barge in when i’m amidst my morning routine, &&. the next, you so wrongfully accuse me? honestly! the more i learn of you, the more bold your nature becomes. ❞
a sniff of indignation, &&. the ribbon secures the ponytail that hangs loosely past his upper back.
❝ perhaps i should expect no less of a dark type trainer, ❞ he spits, words full of disdain as his body turns just enough for daggers to be thrown over his shoulder. ❝ your repugnant behaviors are all the same. ❞
hands drop &&. reach for his gloves; securing them on before he turns to her in full. a scowl is flashed, &&. then a haughty huff as he begins to make his way out, nose canting towards the ceiling.
❝ if you are so terribly bothered by it, then perhaps you should ask for someone’s help. i’m more than certain there would be kind souls willing enough. ❞ lighter tonal notes, exasperated ‘sympathy’ in the form of a sigh, a brush of their shoulders as he passes, only to halt his steps to offer a sneer. ❝ someone other than me, that is. ❞
( what little white lies miss honey didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. )
