Norman Jayden (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
triptoprofiling) wrote2013-09-15 06:41 pm
triptoprofiling) wrote2013-09-15 06:41 pm
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.
[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.
[action]
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.
[action]
[Pssh, must be a New Yawkuh.]
There isn't much to 'guard' around here anyway. Unless you count anything Team Rocket does.
[action]
You say that now, but wait until some more soul-sucking bugs or freaky skeletal shit show up.