Blind Dates: B TABLES.

[goldhearted]

What: BLIND DATES! Round 2.
Who: Anyone who was sent a note with the letter-number combination B#.
Where: Off-campus restaurant. AND BEYOND!
When: November 30th, eveningtimes.
Warnings: ???
ALSO, HEY, TAG YOUR CHARACTERS WHEN YOU REPLY TO THIS LOG. ♥

[The second group has been told to find some place somewhat out of the way. It's at the other end of the city, and maybe a little harder to find than the others. The dining room is bigger than it looks from the outside, though, and it's actually rather nice. There's quiet music playing overhead. There seems to be a little of everything on the menu, but it all does seem a little fancy. It's expensive, but it's not like you're paying, right?

It might have been smart to dress nice- but not too nice- for your date. At least that's what Gold suggested!

There's a candle at every table. Beside each candle, there is a card. On each card, there is a different letter-number combination.

Find your table!

And feel free to leave at any time, with or without your date.]

Comments

[flamejock]

"You don't have to get so angry about it," Jock replied. "I don't know what you are. What are you?" he asked. "You sorta look like a bunch of different pokemon."

[testgasm]

"I'm not angry," he huffed, "I'm just a little confused, is all. I don't--never heard of a Pokemon."

[flamejock]

"Oh," said Jock, slightly mollified. "I'm a pokemon. I'm an arcanine. They're the best kind. I'll show you."

Jock eagerly set the menu down on the table.

And there was a sudden POOF of smoke.

[flamedog]

And now, sitting in a chair that is no longer anywhere near large enough for him (and rather awkwardly, I might add) there's a massive cream-and-orange tiger dog with a happy expression on his face sitting across from you.

He pants expectantly.

[testgasm]

Wheatley's tiny little robot brain was not prepared for this turn of events.

First, he screamed. If he had been sitting in a chair that he could violently push away from the table in a dramatic fashion, he certainly would have.

"Agh! Oh, god, you're a--dog."

[flamedog]

"And you're a ball who yells too much," said Jock, looking a little peeved for a giant, 6-foot-tall brilliant godbeast.

Only it sounded more like "Arf, arf, rawr, arf, arf, arf."

[testgasm]

Wheatley, unfortunately, did not speak giant tiger dog, and was altogether intimidated by this 6-foot brilliant godbeast to the point of abject terror.

"I don't--I don't speak dog, mate."

[flamedog]

Oh right. He's not a pokemon.

[flamejock]

There was another poof of smoke and instead of the precariously balanced giant tiger dog, there was just Jock sitting across the table from the little robot.

"I said, 'And you yell too much,'" replied Jock. "Because you do. And while I'm a dog, I'm an arcanine, which is the best kind of dog. AR-ca-nine," he repeated slowly.

[testgasm]

Wheatley seemed much less concerned with the fact that he was being vaguely insulted, foregoing offense in favor of shock and bewilderment. Because seriously, this guy had just turned into a dog, and back again.

"How did you--how'd you do that?"

[flamejock]

"I learned it from a TM disk a few weeks ago. It was an accident. But mom said I could keep the move if I wanted to. So I did, but now I have to go to school because mom says that pokemon who want to spend time like people have to go to class."

Oh well, that cleared everything up.

[testgasm]

That didn't explain anything at all! At the very least, Wheatley was starting to look less angry and more curious.

"TM? What do you mean by that, exactly?"

[flamejock]

"A technical machine! They're like computer discs, but they teach new moves to pokemon. Pokemon are super great animals that can learn a whole bunch of awesome fighting moves! My trainer is Blue! She's super nice and the best trainer ever. I'm a fire type! Mom likes fire types, 'cause we're the best kind. I can breathe fire! It's easy for me."

All things are easy for Jock.

As this conversation went on, Jock's face became less concerned and more... ecstatically happy to be able to talk about how great his mom and he were.

[testgasm]

Wheatley tried to follow along. He honestly did. But somewhere between talk of awesome fighting moves and trainermoms, the little robot got lost. Again.

"Wait, wait, wait. You've got to slow down. I didn't understand half of what you just said."

[flamejock]

Wow, this guy didn't know anything, did he?

"Okay, I'll try to talk slower," he said more slowly. "Pokemon are animals that have amazing fighting powers. Unless they are a normal type, because nobody likes them and they are boring. I am a fire type. I know many fire moves. For example, I can shoot fire out of my mouth. See?"

And here, dear reader, he opened his mouth wide and let out a jet of flame about five feet in length off to the side.

From somewhere near him, a woman shrieked.

"That would be way bigger if I was my usual arcanine self," he explained, not seeming to notice or care about the shrieking woman.

[testgasm]

Wheatley screamed again, but in his defense, that was a lot of fire in a relatively contained space.

"STOP DOING THINGS LIKE THAT."

[flamejock]

"YOU WANTED TO KNOW WHAT I COULD DO," said Jock loudly, "AND WHAT POKEMON ATTACKS WERE LIKE."

[testgasm]

"IN WORDS," Wheatley shouted, "USE YOUR WORDS."

[flamejock]

"I TRIED THAT, YOU DIDN'T UNDERSTAND," replied Jock heartily. "SO I FIGURED SHOWING YOU IS EASIER."

[testgasm]

"YOU ALMOST SET THE WAITRESS ON FIRE."

Wheatley wasn't entirely sure if that was the case. But it seemed like an appropriate admonition, given the what had just transpired.

[flamejock]

"THERE'S ONLY A TEN-PERCENT CHANCE OF FLAMETHROWER INFLICTING A BURN," said Jock.

[testgasm]

"Doesn't matter!" He replied, still in apparent distress, if the way his inner component jerked around was any indication. "You shouldn't go about breathing fire in a restaurant, it's not socially acceptable! And--and dangerous. Very dangerous."

[flamejock]

"I breathe fire inside all the time. I just have to be careful where I point it. Mom taught me that..." said Jock, looking around the restaurant again. "Have you seen my mom yet?"

[testgasm]

"Okay, well, this is not a good place to be spitting fire."

Though in Wheatley's opinion, no place was a good place to be spitting fire.

"I haven't seen your mum. I don't know what she looks like. Aren't you a little old for that sort of thing?"

[flamejock]

"I'm three," said Jock. "And mom's my trainer. She's the most important person in the world."