triptoprofiling | 002 {ver. 2.0} → {action/audio} Goldenrod City

[action]

[What happens when you take a grown man with a shopping list to a department store? Well nothing as a matter of fact. Quite the dilemma if you tell Norman. You can't get anymore more mundane than searching for a pair of socks and other house-ly supplies on a Sunday. He could have gone a day or two without 'em that but he needs to be outside. Stretch his legs. Do something. Everything about him reads unusually casual: grey polo shirt and a pair of khakis. He's hardly ever worn shit like this.

Things feel as if they are going in an oh-so fast manner as he saunters down the walkway. His eyes catch on all of the different chotchkies on display inside each store. Not sure how he exactly he made it over to the front window with the TMs on display. One of which catches his eye:

TM 22: Solar Beam

Norman finds his hand already pressed up against the window.]

...That's just ridiculous. You're kidding, right?

[His Watchog who has been following this whole time intrusively sticks his small, furry head right in front of Norman's line of view.]

[audio]

--t can't always be like this, can it? I can't put my finger on it.

...Maybe. Maybe I miss it. Just can't stop thinking about it. This is what I was working for, right? No matter where you look there was always somethin'. Now? Now I don't know what I'm doing anymore.

[A small breath can be heard.]

Turn off the Gear, Alvin. I can see you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[i have many things to be sorry for regarding lancer. fashion sense is the top of the list.]

[really. leather pants?]

I'm gonna level with you, I stopped asking too many questions about it as soon as I realized there were fire-breathing dogs. Doesn't help to think too hard about the logic of it, y'know?

[The 90's is live and well within him.]

[As you can see Norman is the last person to ever judge someone's fashions sense. He is more preoccupied on a circular plastic disc than how those flames on Lance's shirt are flamin'.]

I'm right there with you. Fire-breathing dogs...psychic cats...the list goes on and on.

[...And his bug-eyed meekrat but Alvin has become more of a oversized housecat than anything. An oversized housecat who likes to run errands Norman.]

The physics doesn't make sense. This could just be unquestionable mythical magic. Which it is because I've yet to see any scientific report about it with the exception of breeding.

I ain't a physics expert to say the least, but this is much weirder than magic, trust me. Most of that's got pretty much nothing on these guys, going off of just how widespread and commonplace they are. Never mind all the other crazy shit about 'em.

Edited 2013-09-18 02:03 (UTC)

[Point. At least in the fictional tales Norman has ever read/watched there were only several magical creatures in their mythos. This is an entire fuckin' ecosystem that can boggle any adult human brain (or any kid who lacked an imagination).

Norman sits on Lancer's remark for a moment as he pulls himself away from the store window.]

That's because everything is in your face. You can imagine the idea in your head but when it's right there in front of you then it becomes the craziest thing you've seen. Crazier than all other things you'd imagine.

I don't know...After being here for almost year? I just want to find an answer or two.

Try bein' here for three and still not knowing shit. Like I said, I try not to ask too many questions and just go with whatever happens.

[Shrug. This is the face of a man that just does not give a fuck.]

[Norman was there at some point. That point where there was not a goddamn thing he could about anything. It was nice but frustrating. So fuckin' frustrating. Admittedly he could be much more proactive about the situation but he keeps drawing blanks about it. Too much fresh air is screwing with his brain cells.

...Wait a minute.]

I uhh-- sorry, but did you say three years?

Comin' up on three, I'm pretty sure. Give or take a couple months.

[Oddly, Lancer did not seem remotely conflicted or even concerned about that. What a weird guy.]

Yeah. Yeah, I think we've spoken before.

[If he's right then this is the same guy who he spoke to when he "re-entered" Johto. If not well...awkwaaarrrrd.]

We were talking about Ponytas back while I was in New Bark.

[Not like that last bit was sounded awkward. No sir.]

Yeah, I remember you. Name's Lancer, but 'that one guy with the flaming horses' ain't a bad name either.

Interestin' but I'll stick with Lancer. Call me Norman.

[Mr. Flaming Horses does have a nice to it but no-- he's got a reputation to keep.

That's if he has one to begin with.]

[But hey! Look down here! This here Watchog is tugging on Norman's shirt, giving him an annoyed with them big ol' swirly bug eyes of his.]

--? Oh...And this is Alvin. Not a fire-type but his sense of direction in the woods is unbelievable.

Edited 2013-09-27 06:41 (UTC)

...Hell of a look he's got on his face, isn't it? [dem bug eyes, man...]

This here's Olldóiteán. [He gestured to the Houndoom sitting next to him and wagging her tail.] Helluva good friend and spits fire all over the place.

Yeah. You get it used to it though. Doesn't become so intimidating once you realize they're one night patrol.

[Doesn't make it any less difficult to sleep when you've got this massive rodent staring you down. Same could be said about owning a hell dog with horns.

...Taco used to be a real quiet pup though.

Translation: Norman owns a Houndoom as well. Typically they're real nice dogs if you don't press the wrong buttons. In fact, to show he comes in peace, he will stick his hand out for the Houndoom to sniff and/or lick (worst case scenario: he gets bitten) at.]

Nice to meet you, Ovaltine.

[That All-American Boston accent never fails.]

Ol-doh-chean. [Siiigh.] Man. Nobody ever knows how basic Irish works these days.

[that's because the language is goddamn insane, lancer.]

Oh, well. Gotta say these guys are damn good bodyguards. Not that I really need it, myself.

That's what I said.

[Pssh, must be a New Yawkuh.]

There isn't much to 'guard' around here anyway. Unless you count anything Team Rocket does.

[Lancer rolled his eyes at the insistence, but said nothing more on the matter. Nobody spoke the damn language around here, anyway.]

You say that now, but wait until some more soul-sucking bugs or freaky skeletal shit show up.