Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-26104528-20150928195402/@comment-26130256-20151216073007

Azulius and Trigo silently hat-tipped each other as the hologram faded. They could always just call each other later and explain the details the other had missed. Now, the job was done, and the pay was en route.

The mobster shuffled his cards as he thought, trying to track his allies and decide what to do. Gretel and Ade were most likely talking, Cormac was juggling some bounties, and he thought he overheard Estellia talk to another Eliminator about going out to eat at some place he had never heard of. But Honara...

As he walked to Hargreave's office, the two-way mirror on the open door showed the rattlesnake relaxing on what looked like a very soft couch. Could have been a great time to ask her about that chicken-and-waffles joint he had heard about from a poker buddy. Azzie closed his eyes and scratched his scar as some memories came floating back...

=
'...The first time he met Fuschia, a group project on tactics back in school. They decided to try the problem seperately before consulting their group. Both finished in five minutes, with completely different plans...'

...Asking her out to that art gallery, where they spent the entire time arguing if Pebble Picasso was really the inventor of cubism, or if he had cribbed from several earlier minds...

...That month before the school dance, where Azzie taught himself how to tango in three weeks, and the two of them blew the rest of the school away...

...Exchanging texts over winter break, where he could tell something was wrong, but had no way of helping...

...That night at the restaurant, where his first real relationship broke up with him, came out to him, then stabbed him in the chest before vaulting the railing and disappearing from his life...

...The complete shock as he slowly fell, crashing into a glass table and signalling the help that saved his life...

Honara knows how to kill a guy, a voice in his head said. She ain't gonna miss like Fuschia did.

=
His eyes flew open and he jumped back, sweating a little. Somehow, the memories of the old days never bothered him normally, but with another pretty girl in his path, they just jumped to the top, like the carbonation in a soda when you tap the glass just right. Azulius silently wished he had asked for a double on that rum, which was probably already locked up. After a long moment of drawing on the rum's power to mask any injury, he walked to the doorway and leaned in, his scar still itching.

"You lost in thought there, doll?" he asked, trying to sound jovial. "I'd be glad to pull ya out, but I need my pith helmet."