[OPEN]

[drinkscola]

Who: maruko "marco" reiji (drinkscola) and you!!!
When: 08.02
Where: various places
What: marco being uncool... also guns, soda, and a football
Rating/Warning: mild language, but otherwise nothing for now!


a.

[ welcome to the gun show

or a gun range, more specifically. here's a guy dressed in a pinstripe suit (actually a school uniform, thank you), lifting a sig sauer p226 towards a target. he's done his homework such that his stance and grip are correct, but... experience tends to trump textbook knowledge. he sweats, manages to keep his hand from trembling, and squeezes the trigger.

BANG.

and holy shit, even with protective earmuffs, that's loud as fuck and the resulting kick is even more startling. while the bullet's hit its mark, marco doesn't quite notice as he yelps and drops the weapon; it clatters to the floor wherein it sets off again.

BANG.

whoops. at least that one hit the wall and not a person. he's immediately looking around to make sure no one heard that, much less witnessed it. ]

b: shopping district.

[ well that had been rough and embarrassing— time for some caffeinated, sugary calories. after fishing out his wallet, selecting coca-cola and swiping his card, a single cola tumbles out.


except, after that's been retrieved, the sodas don't stop coming. they continue to cascade out of the machine one-by-one, rolling on the surrounding pavement in a variety of directions. ]

What the hell, I'd say—!!

[ the vending machine continues until it's empty of every can. ]

c: shopping district, part 2.

[ during his hour of waiting for a maintenance bot to show (it won't), marco's taken to building an elaborate pyramid structure. he kind of half-expects something to come along and obliterate it, so he won't be too surprised when that happens. it's been a painful waste of time.

he fixes another can to its side. ]

Geez, what is up with CERES lately...

[ he gets being forced to live in a dystopia, okay, but an inefficient one sucks. ]

d: entertainment/pleasure district.

[ as someone who usually practices alone, even back home, it might be useful to scope out talent. temporarily useful, as marco knows none of this should actually stick. once he's spied someone that looks physically capable of regularly withstanding tackles and somewhat unoccupied (by which he means, unoccupied hands), he's raising his football. ]

Here. Catch, I'd say.

[ whether you like it or not, it's beamed toward your torso. hey, be grateful or something that at least he didn't beam it at your head!! ]

e: boutique; closed to kashuu.

[ okay, in-between being broke (a relative adjective) and newcomers and gross cybuddies and avoiding the hell out of everyone due to those memory shenanigans, marco's finally traversed somewhere beautifully expensive with intent. upon entering, impressed already, he'll approach someone that looks to work there. ]

Hey, I'm Marco. [ potentially useless information, okay. moving on: ] And I'm looking for someone named Kashuu Kiyomitsu...

Comments

e! points at eyes points at marco

[adornmental]

[Said employee looks up from arranging some shirts on a new display rack, immediately curious. Someone's looking for him?? Marco, though... Give him a second.]

Marco? Marco, Marco... Oh! [Recognition lights up his face and he claps his hands together, turning away from the clothes.] I remember you! What's up? Finally come to get a suit?

[SURPRISE, there he is, Kashuu Kiyomitsu... He sure looks like he fits in here, at least, decked out in high-end clothes that are probably modeling samples from the upcoming line.]

[drinkscola]

[ so, yes, kashuu's a... man... here he had expected a cute girl. okay, maybe not a cute girl, but a cute woman. not to say kashuu isn't cute, but. he's not female. there's no outburst to accompany this, thankfully; his eyes had widened only briefly. ]

Ah... [ ahem. ] Yeah, yeah. A suit would be good.

[ that's not cool enough, though. so, quickly adding and sounding considerably less stupid: ]

The best you have. [ wait. ] Not the best, as I can't break the bank, but I'd like to be impressed.

[adornmental]

[It wouldn't have been something that Kashuu is unused to, at least... Sometimes people just look at his cutesy emojis and ridiculous way of typing and that's the way it goes!

He's chipper as ever, either way, gesturing to the other side of the shop.]

Sure, sure! C'mon this way, then. We can start taking a look over here. These're the ones that you can get for a pretty moderate price, but they're still top quality! Basically everything in our shop is.

[It's a fancy boutique, after all! The price tags definitely match in a lot of cases, but Kashuu hands out discounts like candy...]

What style are you looking for? Or color...?

a

[sayonaradumbass]

[why is he here? why are ANY of us here? who allowed this shithead near a gunrange? it doesn't matter, what matters is the screech he gives off when the bullet goes off]

MOOOOOOTHERFUCK! I thought this place was to teach you shit! Why is a butterfingers like you here?

[drinkscola]

[

hoooly fucking shit can kaneda yell and draw attention and here marco had been hoping to keep that incident under wraps. he wants to cry a little bit because that. not to mention they basically have to scream even louder to hear one another of the dumb earmuffs. ]

I'm— [ hastily scrambling to retrieve the gun; he can't think of an adequate excuse for this. ] I just didn't... It was my first time shooting one!!

[sayonaradumbass]

That's your answer, huh. [he doesn't look impressed, now a little less frazzled and that much more of a smug asshole. He crosses his arms over his chest, smirks.]

That just won't do, man. When you do that in front of girls, they're gonna laugh.

B

[basesteal]

[Kuramochi was probably planning to get a bottle of delicious cola. Past tense because he sees the vending machine rampage caused by someone familiar as he stops dead in his tracks for a moment.]

Holy shit, did you just break the vending machine?

Re: B

[drinkscola]

[ why kuramochi, of all people...!! somehow, he makes the situation just a little more stressful. marco squares his shoulders, watching the soda rolls away... he sticks out his foot to stop a few from rolling into someone's path. ]

Judging by the fact that it's spewing cans of soda all over the ground...

[ really. it's hard to blame this on anyone else. ]

Well. It's certainly malfunctioned, I'd say.

[basesteal]

[Every time he runs into this guy it's always soda problems.]

Dude, first you go spillin' sodas over people, now you're breakin' vending machines...

["You cursed or something?" Is what he was going to say next, but he decides against it. With all that's been going on lately he doesn't want to jinx things.]

The hell are you gonna do with all those bottles?

b!

[trueend]

[Wow. That's a messy sight.

Don't mind Frisk as they saunter up to this cola disaster, casually picking up one of the cans as it rolls their way. They pop it open once they're in front of the vending machine, taking a sip while it just keeps emptying itself out.]

... Can you make it do that again? But with... water bottles.

[Frisk, that's sTEALING.]

[drinkscola]

[ why... marco watches them nonchalantly partake. well, it's stealing anyway, as he's fairly certain frisk couldn't put money into the machine if they tried right now. he almost envies this person's calmness.

picking up a few, arms laden with sodas: ]

Even if I could, why would I even try that—? Use a water fountain.

[trueend]

[They're scrunching up their nose at the suggestion, still sipping away at their free soda. Someone should maybe tell them that breaking vending machines is not a good thing...? But at least they're not suggesting he should stab the vending machine. Or something.]

Because 'm thirsty.

[Said in a tone that implies this should be obvious??]

And someone told me water fountains use the same water as... toilets. I think. Sounded really gross.

c!

[distorsione]

[...honestly, this is far from the strangest thing Fugo has ever seen in his life, or even in Cerealia, but he pauses beside Marco and his artwork (?) anyway.]

What's all this for?

[Did something in Cerealia happen to make him act like this or is this a conscious choice, that is the question—]

Re: c!

[drinkscola]

[ that tone... marco's unsure if he should feel embarrassed or not. he glances sideways, mouth tugging into an innocuous smile. ]

Kaa~ Maintenance, perhaps. I think it looks better this way. [ instead of all over the floor. he's not sure if that explains it well, though, so he shrugs toward one of the vending machines. ] I don't know if you've noticed machines going haywire as of late.

[distorsione]

[Fugo glances toward the vending machine, and—]

...oh. I see.

[That made sense. It's almost a relief that it's "just" the machinery acting up and not anything else, though he didn't want to get too comfortable just yet. It seemed like there was always something going wrong here.]

I suppose there's no chance of anyone actually coming to fix this.

[He had no faith in this place.]

d

[hoasen]

[And she catches!]

Marco? Are you practicing?

[drinkscola]

[ —!! nice reflexes! marco's hands lower; he blinks at her before offering a smile. ]

Ah, Vietnam-chan... It's good to see you.

[ the -chan route. just telling it like it is, okay. ]

And I suppose you could say that... But "scouting" might be more accurate, in this case.

[hoasen]

[She doesn't know if she needs to toss it back, nor the form she needs to take, so she's just...pretending to throw it, just to practice.

Cute though, Marco!!!]

It is good to see you again too! And oh? You are trying to form a team?

b

[masakados]

[All he wanted was to go to the grocery store... He didn't expect this obstacle in his path.]

Drinking all of these is going to be rough.

[Naoki's just going to pick his way care...fully... through the sea of soda cans in Marco's direction. He's doing his best to avoid stepping on one because he doesn't want to be coated in pop today, no sir.]

[drinkscola]

[ NAOKI... a cool, strong guy looking onto this mess that he's made; marco could die. he tries to curtail his anxiety somewhat (trying not to look so hurried in picking them up by allowing his steps to slow, forcing a smile) with mixed results. ]

[ he tries a friendly wave. ends up dropping a cola, only to catch it before spatters onto the ground again. ]

You could help, I'd say. [ he could. does he want to? he suspects not. ] I'm not a fan of diet sodas, you see. [ of which there are plenty of! ]

[masakados]

[Cool strong guy, Marco... one day you'll be disillusioned. One day. Naoki side-steps another rolling can that could've ended disastrously and smiles back toward him.]

Does that mean I'm gonna have to drink half of these?

[That said, he's... immediately crouching, starting to gather up cans, stacking them as safely as he can manage in the crook of one arm.]

A!

[good_ideas]

[Because judging is what Shiho does best.

Like judging when to actually step into a gun range when she hears that first shot, her hands on the door telling her that he'd just dropped his gun and that there would be a second. So, of course, she ducks into a safe corner until there is no third gunshot before she carefully pokes her head in through the door.]

If that's your idea of aiming, remind me to just...not be anywhere near you when you want to hit anything.

[drinkscola]

[ ah, a girl... and shiho, to boot. this is what he feared...!! hastily picking his gun off the floor, he casts a glance to the target— the bullet hole actually remarkably close to the target's center. and the second shot... well, that's nowhere near.

but, alas, "near" and "close" only counts for horseshoes and hand grenades. agreeing, he nods at the criticism. ]

... Yeah. I'll do better, next time.

[ really, he won't be satisfied until he's put in countless hours of practice to hit a bullseye every time. but now he's giving her a look over, eyes still wide. ]

You're okay, right?

c

[queenofminiskirts]

[Well.]

That's an interesting hobby you have there.

[drinkscola]

[ that comment coming while he's distracted with fixing a can— marco jumps slightly, before turning around to address the voice. ]

[ oh, it's... this girl. he doesn't think he ever caught her name. ]

... Thanks. Calling it a "hobby" is a bit of a stretch, though.