thebigfella
B all N all
If Something Tastes Funny, Try It Again
After talking smack about her drink tastes, the last thing he expected from the woman was for her to suddenly step forward and, almost dotingly, clean the remnants of stolen drink from underneath his lips.
It was an action that would probably cause most to freeze up, or at least stiffen slightly, the sudden unexpectedness of such an action naturally leading your brain to question the intention.
“What the hell was that for?! Are you ovulating or somethin’!? I ain’t your kid!”
Once again, Tak stepped over such concepts to firmly plant his button on irritation and anger, leaning his head back away from Nao’s touch as soon as he could. Her actions almost mirrored the times his mom would drop him off at school and insist on fixing his hair and wiping off his face in front of all his friends, where everyone could see him being babied. It was just as annoying as it was then.
“She’s lucky I don’t hate her.” Tak half-bitterly thought, straightening himself back out with a rub of his shoulder as his focus snapped away from her look at Dante, the topic of suits still being an itch that continued on the proverbial ass of the conversation.
“Suits are a waste of time. I got better things to spend my money on than shit like that. Business casual is all that’s in nowadays, y’know! Even rich men like Jason Benson who owns Aminzon are coming to their meetings in their race car pajamas! Formal wear is a thing of the past, just like plastic straws and holographic cards!” Tak continued his tumultuous defamation against suits, shoving his hands into his pockets as he huffed. Even if Dante had relented on the idea of a suit, Tak wasn’t anywhere close to conforming to the idea.
“Barfing on each other? I was just jokin’ about your head having nothing but fertilizer but you’re really proving my point. You musta watched some weird shit as a kid to give you ideas like that,” He chastised Dante for his joke, despite it not being much of a step up from the threat he made earlier. If he and Nao were so intent on dressing fancy, he wouldn’t stop them.
For him, his simple tracksuit was the only suit he needed. Fitted him much better than any fancy clothes could cover him up.
“I’m not interested in wearin’ someone else’s hand-me-downs either. You two can play dress-up games if you want, I’m gonna go get a drink. Maybe even woo a couple of babes at the bar,” He casually brushed them off, giving a dismissive wave beside his head as he wandered into the dense crowds of clubbers, unapologetically shoving past some of them as he squeezed his way toward the stairs that led up to the upper deck.
As the focus zoomed out away from Tak, his dull colors slowly faded into the mobs of faceless background characters, visible grain grew on the perspective, a changing color of bluer hue.
The view no longer found itself on the heat of the main club floor, full of bright colors and shimmering glasses, instead, it floated aimlessly around a darkly lit room. Rows of monitors hung upon the wall, their gradients reflecting the faintest luminescence upon the encroaching dark.
A singular chair sat in front of it all, and around the wheeled legs of it were numerous scraps of trash, wrappers from non-native snacks, and strange languages barely made out from scrunched-up packaging.
“We’re almost at full capacity…” A feminine voice spoke with a thick accent that seemed to come from the east, a pale hand reaching from behind the silhouette of the chair to grab at the armrest. Her head moved as the chair creaked, messy black bangs obscured the deep purple of the singular eye that peeked behind the chair.
“Should we notify Professor?”
Her question was greeted by silence, as the view suddenly shifted to another perspective. Another figurine hung in the shadows of the room, larger, muscular, his arms crossed as a stray beam of blue light illuminated the lower half of his jaw, revealing his bronze skin and thick beard, just in time for a small smirk to grow across his lips.
“Yeah. It’s time to get this show on the road.”
After talking smack about her drink tastes, the last thing he expected from the woman was for her to suddenly step forward and, almost dotingly, clean the remnants of stolen drink from underneath his lips.
It was an action that would probably cause most to freeze up, or at least stiffen slightly, the sudden unexpectedness of such an action naturally leading your brain to question the intention.
“What the hell was that for?! Are you ovulating or somethin’!? I ain’t your kid!”
Once again, Tak stepped over such concepts to firmly plant his button on irritation and anger, leaning his head back away from Nao’s touch as soon as he could. Her actions almost mirrored the times his mom would drop him off at school and insist on fixing his hair and wiping off his face in front of all his friends, where everyone could see him being babied. It was just as annoying as it was then.
“She’s lucky I don’t hate her.” Tak half-bitterly thought, straightening himself back out with a rub of his shoulder as his focus snapped away from her look at Dante, the topic of suits still being an itch that continued on the proverbial ass of the conversation.
“Suits are a waste of time. I got better things to spend my money on than shit like that. Business casual is all that’s in nowadays, y’know! Even rich men like Jason Benson who owns Aminzon are coming to their meetings in their race car pajamas! Formal wear is a thing of the past, just like plastic straws and holographic cards!” Tak continued his tumultuous defamation against suits, shoving his hands into his pockets as he huffed. Even if Dante had relented on the idea of a suit, Tak wasn’t anywhere close to conforming to the idea.
“Barfing on each other? I was just jokin’ about your head having nothing but fertilizer but you’re really proving my point. You musta watched some weird shit as a kid to give you ideas like that,” He chastised Dante for his joke, despite it not being much of a step up from the threat he made earlier. If he and Nao were so intent on dressing fancy, he wouldn’t stop them.
For him, his simple tracksuit was the only suit he needed. Fitted him much better than any fancy clothes could cover him up.
“I’m not interested in wearin’ someone else’s hand-me-downs either. You two can play dress-up games if you want, I’m gonna go get a drink. Maybe even woo a couple of babes at the bar,” He casually brushed them off, giving a dismissive wave beside his head as he wandered into the dense crowds of clubbers, unapologetically shoving past some of them as he squeezed his way toward the stairs that led up to the upper deck.
As the focus zoomed out away from Tak, his dull colors slowly faded into the mobs of faceless background characters, visible grain grew on the perspective, a changing color of bluer hue.
The view no longer found itself on the heat of the main club floor, full of bright colors and shimmering glasses, instead, it floated aimlessly around a darkly lit room. Rows of monitors hung upon the wall, their gradients reflecting the faintest luminescence upon the encroaching dark.
A singular chair sat in front of it all, and around the wheeled legs of it were numerous scraps of trash, wrappers from non-native snacks, and strange languages barely made out from scrunched-up packaging.
“We’re almost at full capacity…” A feminine voice spoke with a thick accent that seemed to come from the east, a pale hand reaching from behind the silhouette of the chair to grab at the armrest. Her head moved as the chair creaked, messy black bangs obscured the deep purple of the singular eye that peeked behind the chair.
“Should we notify Professor?”
Her question was greeted by silence, as the view suddenly shifted to another perspective. Another figurine hung in the shadows of the room, larger, muscular, his arms crossed as a stray beam of blue light illuminated the lower half of his jaw, revealing his bronze skin and thick beard, just in time for a small smirk to grow across his lips.
“Yeah. It’s time to get this show on the road.”