Put on Your Fancies.
Feb 20, 2013 2:57:39 GMT -5
Post by Gyan Salamanece on Feb 20, 2013 2:57:39 GMT -5
Gyan frowned.
He'd been doing so all night, really.
Ever since his irritable morning.
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Ever since a pimple-faced bellhop ratted on his door at seven in the morning with a frilly invitation and an expectant hand, the champion decided he was just a slam-a-door-in-your-face kinda mood. Fuck a tip. The kid should just feel lucky he has a job, and not cram his pretentious nose into the hotel doors, expecting a handout.
With a flip of his messy, snow mane, Gyan slumped down onto the king sized bed of his suite, causing a sleepy snarl to vibrate across the mattress. He looked over and smiled, watching his charmeleon give him the stink eye. "Look Samir, here's the deal," Gyan started out, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a silver cigarette case. The lizard pokémon pretended not to hear him. "Give me a light and I'll start the coffee." he urged, nudging his old friend. Withholding movement from any other body part, Samir sleepily lifted his tail closer to his trainer, whom leaned over and sparked the end of the coffin nail.
A few silent puffs later, the beep and sputter of the machine pierced the morning silence, a prelude to the soon after bathroom sink activation. He'd lived through far too many mornings just like this to not have the routine down to a science.
The bathroom door opened wide about ten minutes later, unleashing a cloud of stinky smoke, and a red and sleepy-eyed man stumbled out of it. Walking like a zombie in the sloth of an unpleasant rising (yet freshly groomed), Gyan sloppily poored himself a cup of Joe before plopping back down on the end of the enormous bed. He slammed down the first few gulps, relishing in the burn before continuing to pull on his cigarette.
After realizing the delivered note wouldn't disappear if he kept staring at it, Gyan decided to crack the seal and browse its contents.
--------------------------------
It made a soft thump when it hit the wall in a crumpled up ball. Snuffing out the Marlboro, Gyan shuffled his way into the entryyway of his suite. Spilling some coffee on himself in the process, the man lowered himself into an eloquent computer chair positioned infront of a large desk. On that large desk sat a three-monitor wide computer set up, equipped with 7-speaker 5.1 surround sound system. When you pay for the entire hotels construction, nobodies going to dare file a complaint.
Infront of the computers lay a good foot of solid polished oak. Ontop of that lay several shot glasses, and a mirror and razor that sported a sizeable pile of white girl. Leafy green shake and pieces of torn up paper scattered the surface as well. The man thumbed a button on the keyboard that instantly filled the room with a monotonous techno before delving into his pile of fun for a bit before getting started on the day.
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Four hours, a shower, a blunt and a dark royal purple Armani suit later, Gyanara Salamence was seated at the long table of the resorts VIP breakfast hall. His head rested on his hand, and a cigarette slowly sprinkled ashes all over the table whilst he awaited his server. The shaky kid appeared soon with a tray of crusaunts and fresh coffee. Gyan smirked when the boys eyes kept darting to the mess Gyan was making, especially the three burn marks that indicated the ones he had put out on the table earlier. "S-sir, I'm going to have to ask that you please find a way to properly put out your cigarettes," he murmured, pouring the coffee and keeping his eyes to the ground.
The champion blew out a puff right into the boys face before, again, snuffing out the smoke right into the wood of the table.
"Well, then I suggest you get me a fucking ashtray". He said with a blank face.
Bowing nervously, the waiter dashed off to fullfil his customers request.
Gyan shook his head in disbelief. A five star resort, and the hired help didn't even offer him a tray with cigarettes and an ashtray to begin with, let alone retrieved one as soon as he saw Gyan first light up.
He dipped his head in the solitude of the dining hall. Thought crept over his caffene /nicotine buzz and bounced off the sides of his tender brain. The letter was an invitation to a formal dinner tonight for all Tier 4 and 5 VIP guests. What he knew it truly would be is a group-recruiting grounds. Two-thirds of everyone at this party will be a contestant in the tournament. Making alliances placing bets will only be the first layer of haze, Gyan hadn't spent the last of his Rocket years as a suit for nothing. He knew political mirroring when he saw it in a group dynamic, and almost nothing more in the world pisses him off.
But, being a Tier 5 guest entitled him to a responsibility, so he made up his mind to attend.
Gyan was suddenly distracted from thought at the vibration of his cell phone. He opened the notification and watched his screen transform to show the camera feed from the dock. Vinnie was getting off the boat, looking a little worse for wear, but somehow different. The man closed the phone and pocketed it, deciding not to worry about where his son had been. The kid was old enough to make his own decisions.
When the waiter returned, Gyan placed his order for a steady flow of mimosas while he knawed on the buttery crusaunts.
---------------------------------------------------
He'd been doing so all night, really.
Ever since his irritable morning.
----------------------------------------------
Ever since a pimple-faced bellhop ratted on his door at seven in the morning with a frilly invitation and an expectant hand, the champion decided he was just a slam-a-door-in-your-face kinda mood. Fuck a tip. The kid should just feel lucky he has a job, and not cram his pretentious nose into the hotel doors, expecting a handout.
With a flip of his messy, snow mane, Gyan slumped down onto the king sized bed of his suite, causing a sleepy snarl to vibrate across the mattress. He looked over and smiled, watching his charmeleon give him the stink eye. "Look Samir, here's the deal," Gyan started out, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a silver cigarette case. The lizard pokémon pretended not to hear him. "Give me a light and I'll start the coffee." he urged, nudging his old friend. Withholding movement from any other body part, Samir sleepily lifted his tail closer to his trainer, whom leaned over and sparked the end of the coffin nail.
A few silent puffs later, the beep and sputter of the machine pierced the morning silence, a prelude to the soon after bathroom sink activation. He'd lived through far too many mornings just like this to not have the routine down to a science.
The bathroom door opened wide about ten minutes later, unleashing a cloud of stinky smoke, and a red and sleepy-eyed man stumbled out of it. Walking like a zombie in the sloth of an unpleasant rising (yet freshly groomed), Gyan sloppily poored himself a cup of Joe before plopping back down on the end of the enormous bed. He slammed down the first few gulps, relishing in the burn before continuing to pull on his cigarette.
After realizing the delivered note wouldn't disappear if he kept staring at it, Gyan decided to crack the seal and browse its contents.
--------------------------------
It made a soft thump when it hit the wall in a crumpled up ball. Snuffing out the Marlboro, Gyan shuffled his way into the entryyway of his suite. Spilling some coffee on himself in the process, the man lowered himself into an eloquent computer chair positioned infront of a large desk. On that large desk sat a three-monitor wide computer set up, equipped with 7-speaker 5.1 surround sound system. When you pay for the entire hotels construction, nobodies going to dare file a complaint.
Infront of the computers lay a good foot of solid polished oak. Ontop of that lay several shot glasses, and a mirror and razor that sported a sizeable pile of white girl. Leafy green shake and pieces of torn up paper scattered the surface as well. The man thumbed a button on the keyboard that instantly filled the room with a monotonous techno before delving into his pile of fun for a bit before getting started on the day.
--------------------------
Four hours, a shower, a blunt and a dark royal purple Armani suit later, Gyanara Salamence was seated at the long table of the resorts VIP breakfast hall. His head rested on his hand, and a cigarette slowly sprinkled ashes all over the table whilst he awaited his server. The shaky kid appeared soon with a tray of crusaunts and fresh coffee. Gyan smirked when the boys eyes kept darting to the mess Gyan was making, especially the three burn marks that indicated the ones he had put out on the table earlier. "S-sir, I'm going to have to ask that you please find a way to properly put out your cigarettes," he murmured, pouring the coffee and keeping his eyes to the ground.
The champion blew out a puff right into the boys face before, again, snuffing out the smoke right into the wood of the table.
"Well, then I suggest you get me a fucking ashtray". He said with a blank face.
Bowing nervously, the waiter dashed off to fullfil his customers request.
Gyan shook his head in disbelief. A five star resort, and the hired help didn't even offer him a tray with cigarettes and an ashtray to begin with, let alone retrieved one as soon as he saw Gyan first light up.
He dipped his head in the solitude of the dining hall. Thought crept over his caffene /nicotine buzz and bounced off the sides of his tender brain. The letter was an invitation to a formal dinner tonight for all Tier 4 and 5 VIP guests. What he knew it truly would be is a group-recruiting grounds. Two-thirds of everyone at this party will be a contestant in the tournament. Making alliances placing bets will only be the first layer of haze, Gyan hadn't spent the last of his Rocket years as a suit for nothing. He knew political mirroring when he saw it in a group dynamic, and almost nothing more in the world pisses him off.
But, being a Tier 5 guest entitled him to a responsibility, so he made up his mind to attend.
Gyan was suddenly distracted from thought at the vibration of his cell phone. He opened the notification and watched his screen transform to show the camera feed from the dock. Vinnie was getting off the boat, looking a little worse for wear, but somehow different. The man closed the phone and pocketed it, deciding not to worry about where his son had been. The kid was old enough to make his own decisions.
When the waiter returned, Gyan placed his order for a steady flow of mimosas while he knawed on the buttery crusaunts.
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