“…I’d rather your lap, though neither choices are likely unless I have a legitimate reason to.” Where were this man’s priorities at right now? Who just asks a stranger to sit on their lap or to ride their shoulders?
“Not only can I not remember the last time I did either of those things, I don’t even know your name.” Though someone getting personal with him when he barely knew them was nothing new. EX: The Prince, Lau, Viscount of Druitt…the list could go for days.
“Aah, where are my manners?” What manners? Meet the most unmannerly pirate to sail the seven seas. Well, that might be stretching it a bit, but acting polite definitely wasn’t a thing for him.
“The name’s Chousokabe Motochika. And you are, little guy?” Pet names, those are to be expected from him as well. From the gist of this situation, it was going to be one hell an interesting relationship.
“Thank you but you should really tell my big sister. Well, if she’s around.” And truth be told, she wasn’t sure if Saya was here. If she were then the two of them would have a lot of fun.
“Oh?” A demon was he? The prospect made Diva’s eyes sparkle a bit. Was she not alone then? “Motochika? Yes, you seem like wonderful company yourself.” She states, extending her petite hand to shake his. My, my, even a nice firm grip! She was starting to like him already.
And with that petite hand now taken into his grasp–the comparison in size quite evident–he gave it a firm shake, a second following before he withdrew altogether. If he were a true gentleman though, he’d probably give it the ole’ classy kiss to the back of the palm… but that completely slipped his mind.
“Aah, why thankye’, lass. The same goes to you.” He heard that often, actually. If you needed someone to drink with or just pass the time, Motochika was your man.
“As y'seem like a new face, I can only guess yer’ wanderin’ where ya’ are. I might not be a lot of help, but if you got any questions, don’t hesitate t'ask.”
You’re definitely not Santa, and even if you were I don’t believe in him. Plus sitting on laps isn’t something I do under normal circumstances—or at all.
Fine. What about on my shoulders, then? M'sure you’d have one hell of a blast up there.
Most likely the greatest pirate she’ll ever meet. Captain Hook’s got nothing on this badass.
“Really? Hm, I never actually got to meet one before. A first for everything I suppose.” Diva hums. “Oh, how silly of me. My name is Diva, who are you Mr. Pirate?”
Oh, how flattering. You might have to say that to him some time, you’ll definitely get to that gruff heart of his.
“Diva is it? Ain’t that a pretty name.” Motochika wasn’t a man for manners, but he was in fact in the presence of a woman and being a little polite wouldn’t hurt him. So, he extended a broad hand outward, a smile making itself present. “The name’s Chousokabe Motochika, ole’ Demon of the Western Seas. But ya’ can just call me Motochika.”
Masamune’s eye waned, eyebrow knitingly lowering itself before rising again. The expression of realization coming to him, the same instance happened before but if he recalled last time. It wasn’t him, it was someone else entirely. Masamune reeled his fist back slowly, arms at a standstill idly hanging at his sides. He thought for a moment, before bring his hand to his jaw to stretch his neck right and left, “You’re right. Ya didn’t steal the damn helmet.”
What a mistake this was, only entering into a brawl without realizing this was all one big mistake. He could only manage a chuckle though, laughing off what had just happened, “Che, and I was havin’ some damn fun.”
“Really, mate. I didn’t steal i–” Wait, was the Dragon actually agreeing with him? No punches or kicks to the face? Boy… was he surprised–maybe even more so.
“… Eh? Ya’ actually believe me this time?” Even he was having a hard time believing it (it showed on this face no doubt), because after all that they went through, Masamune happened to believe him–and this was after the bastard got a few hits on him.
Though before he could twist it any further then 90 degrees, Masamune kicked himself out of the hold. His own strength being the savior to a potentially broken ankle. He takes that as a sign to back away though, knowing that if he tried to kick again Motochika would just grab at his ankle, “Fuckin’ basatard.”
That wasn’t to say his ankle wasn’t damn sore now either. Pushing the pain away he moved back over while the other had probably been managing to get back up. If the other wouldnt be quick on his feet, Masamune would be. Taking the others lower point advantage to punch at him any chance he got. Being sure that he’d avoid getting punched in the face at all costs.
That was a shame, he might not have managed to bring that fucker down, but at least he got the hell away from him. It gave him a chance to bring himself to his feet and it took him quite a bit, too. He could feel it–his body was growing weak and exhausted, but his overall endurance was still strong; he wasn’t done with the Dragon just yet.
Now that he was standing, that single eye narrowed, his very anger seen within it. He couldn’t believe this to be honest. Motochika was just minding his own business, he did nothing wrong of the sort, and yet here he was beaten and battered from an enraged Dragon who couldn’t get his story straight. What was it about again…? Oh yeah.. his missing bucket of a helmet. All of this over something they could have easily found.
He was just about to make his next move before a sudden realization hit him–hit him harder than the headache his was currently withstanding and he stopped. This did happen before, it wasn’t his imagination. Masamune accused him of stealing his stupid helmet before and of course that led to a brawl, but this one was worse than the first.
“I didn’t steal it…” His voice was low as he reminded the both of them what this whole fight was really about. “I don’t know how ya’ found the proof that y'did… but I didn’t steal it.”
The leg swung right under his feet exactly, Masamune jumping over it in the knick of time, “HAH! Being on the fucking floor suits you most.”
Swinging his own leg up to kick the other square in the head. Sadly, he could only keep aiming for there considering attacking the damn brutes chest wouldn’t be any damn effective. Masamune was a lightweight, Motochika on the other hand had layers of muscle to defend against any bull shit hits. It’d take a while to get a good knock at the other if he wanted to wind him.
So he continued for the face, the one area that would do a lot of damage in the end. Hell their fight had continued on for a while now, it was only a matter of time before one of them couldn’t take it. Unfortunately, Masamune wouldn’t be able to take that many damn hits at this rate.
Damn, he almost had him–wait, what the hell did he just say? Oho, no. Hell no. That wasn’t going to fly by Motochika, no way, no how.
This time, predicting Masamune’s next move was easy–he figured he was going to go for a kick to the face, but unfortunately for him, Motochika was quick enough to grab his ankle before it made any contact with his already battered face.
“I think bein’ on the floor is more to yer’ liking!” Now with the bastard’s ankle in his grasp–and a tight one at that, he twisted it at least 180 degrees. With the strength that he had, he could have easily broken it, or just turned Masamune’s body altogether. It would depend on the Dragon’s movements at hand–either way, he was fine as long as the bastard ate the dirt he damn well deserved.
