datadiving | CALL ME OUT/OPEN RP

[A peculiar sight, seeing the former boss of Team Skull hunched low at a lonely table at the Pokemon Center's cafe, staring out the window at the setting sun. He's alone, obviously, and ignoring the multitude of uneasy and even dirty looks he's getting from the other patrons using the facilities. So long as they keep their distance, he could care less, and most of them do - a minor perk granted by his old title, no doubt.

Suits Guzma just fine, he's not in any mood to deal with white noise like that.

Exhaling through his nose, and thumbing the area around his collar - where a gold chain once hung - he picks up the mug of steaming Tapu Cocoa and takes a long sip. It's still scalding, but he doesn't seem to care much aside from a minor wrinkle of his nose. Once hes finished that sip, he exhales,more of a sigh really.

What now? Team Skull is disbanded, that half-pint brat destroyed him again, and--

And...

A large fist slams heavily on the tabletop, causing a few startled squeaks from patrons and the poor nurse at the front counter alike. He grunts at the whispers and muted protests, ruffling a hand through his hair in Frustration. What now]

Edited 2017-01-10 22:59 (UTC)

[ Well, there's one person who doesn't shy away, at least. Kukui's the same as ever, a stark contrast to Guzma (it's kind of odd, seeing him without tattoos and the chain around his neck, but that's just how things go).

For how loud and cheerful he can be, he walks surprisingly quietly, and since Guzma's concentrating so hard on his inner thoughts it's likely he won't notice someone actually approaching him until someone pulls out the lone chair opposite him. ]

Alola.

Is this seat taken?

[It is surprising, and only the scrape of the chair's legs through the stillness of the Pokemon Center breaks Guzma from his thoughts. The face of the Nutty Professor (so aptly named by the Skull Boss himself) isn't one Guzma expected nor wanted to see at this very moment, and the scowl on his face deepens to an almost petulant nature.

Not even bothering with a response, Guzma shoots the empty chair a harsh look, like it's to blame as much as Kukui is for intruding, then sinks down in his seat and plants his feet, one by one, purposefully, on the chair Kukui intended to sit in.]

Huh, guess not.

[ Someone else might have just left Guzma alone, or been similarly and verbally petty.

But this is Kukui. And what he does is... ]

I'll just get another, then.

[ ...go and get another chair from a nearby table, carry it over, and then sit himself down quite happily.

He doesn't say anything else. Truth be told, it's a conversation that's long overdue, but one he's never known how to start. ]

[Unbelievable. Guzma's lip curls slightly, like he were on the verge of a snarl, and the air in the Pokemon Center seems to get thicker, heavier, and Guzma's sure that every pair of eyes was on them, waiting to see how this all played out. It's just like Malie Gardens all over again, but this time Kukui doesn't have a grimy little brat to pawn off. This time he's got to fight the good fight himself.

But Guzma's at least going to get in the first hit, snapping quickly the moment Kukui's seated, arms tucking themselves forcefully into the pockets of his jacket, mainly to keep them well out of the open. Safer that way.]

The heck you want?

Something I should have done a while ago, yeah?

[ He doesn't make any move in response to Guzma's change of expression - at least, nothing aggressive. He leans back against his chair slightly, his expression serious.

Guzma might think he's going to suddenly tackle him or something, but... ]

...I'm sorry. For...all of this, yeah? [ He sounds - and is - genuinely regretful, whatever that means to Guzma. ]

[Guzma braces for it, his body tense and his fists gripping the insides of his pockets. He expects a lecture, to be chastised for everything he did up until this point, and his jaw is set, teeth grinding painfully together behind tightly pursed lips. This isn't the time or place, and he's not in the mood to rub salt in the wound. Not now, and not from Kukui.

So the apology comes as a bit of a shock, evident from the way Guzma's head lifts up and his mouth falls open for a second in disbelief. It's only a moment though, before his head ducks down and his shoulders relax into faint slow rolls as he begins to snicker softly into his faded white shirt. He's sorry? He's sorry?! Haha...hahaha!! He laughs and laughs, soft, hoarse peals of strained laughter, bitter and scornful. What a joke. It's so funny.]

That all?

[ If it's a joke, Kukui's serious expression doesn't change a bit. That trademark smile (probably something that Guzma has wanted to wipe off his face more than once), usually unflinchingly there, isn't present at all.

As to what he thinks of Guzma's laughter...he doesn't seem to react. ]

...Nah. There's a lot to sort out.

It sure has been a while since we talked like this, yeah?

[ In a less confrontational way, he means. ]

Edited 2017-01-11 03:38 (UTC)

[Oh, Guzma knows there's nothing funny about this little conversation. He knows this is meant to be a reconciliation, and stubbornly he hates Kukui all the more for waiting this long to come to him. Waiting until the bridge has been incinerated, and the rift wide and deep...to come back to him now. What does he expect - them to hug it out and be good? Be friends again? Now that...that is absolutely hysterical.

Guzma picks up his mug, down the contents in one long drag, then puts the mug down a little too forcefully. His laughter is gone, the grin from earlier a distant memory. Guzma looks frustrated and uncomfortable - he doesn't want to do this, he's not in the mood, and this isn't the place for this.]

Tch, what makes you think you're worth it now, Prof? Aint got time for you then, aint got time for you now. Move along. [Guzma flips his shades over his eyes, hunching his shoulders and sinking into his chair. He doesn't want this, he doesn't want to 'fix' things. He needs someone to be angry at, to blame - someone other than himself.]

[ He hadn't known what to say, back then, and in all those years. He still doesn't know what to say now, and he didn't expect anything less than the reaction he's getting.

But he has to try, because he's run away from it for far too long. He's annoyingly persistent, that way.

He doesn't take Guzma's advice to 'move along'. ]

Don't expect you to like me, yeah? But I gotta say...

I still don't know why you feel like picking fights with me all the time.

[ That's kind of a lie. He knows, as someone who knew him for years would know, but he doesn't want to talk over him again. He's done enough of that. ]

[Annoying is right, and Guzma is getting more and more aggravated the longer this is dragged out. He fists the insides of his pockets, jaw clenched behind shut lips. Why can't Kukui just leave well enough alone? Why'd he have to show up now, here, of all times? Guzma doesn't know what the hell to think, say, or do, and the scrutiny he's getting from the patrons is fraying his nerves more than he likes to admit. He want's to get away from this, away from Kukui, but he can't. He can't back down - he's too damn stubborn.]

Hmmph! [That snort, and Guzma removes his sunglasses and sets them back atop his head.] Because I'm gonna beat you down, Kukui! You, that brat, n' anyone else you care about. I needa say it how many times before you get it?! I'm gonna destroy you one day, and-- [His lip twitches, nostrils flaring with the strain of keeping his anger in check.] And you know why.

Quit playin'. [The last part is hissed through his teeth, soft and dangerous. A warning.]

Edited (brackets. B|) 2017-01-12 01:37 (UTC)

[ He's not bothered by the way the other patrons are looking, but he knows Guzma is. Guzma has always hated that kind of attention - anything that could be interpreted as being looked down on.

He can't really blame him, either.

Talking hasn't really worked. He doesn't know the words to make it right (maybe there are no words to make it right).

But... ]

If you really want to beat me down, we can do it right now. [ He stands abruptly, pushing his chair back with a loud sound that startles everyone. ] Outside.

Then maybe we can settle our differences the way you like it, yeah?

[ And he heads for the door without another word. He is totally intending to go through with this, yup. ]

[The loud scrape of the chair is not nearly as shocking as what Kukui said prior. Even Guzma startles slightly, feeling like he just got sucker punched well before the battle even began. Kukui has never took his threats seriously, not once, and oftentimes he...never really intended half of what he said really. Guzma just held so much resentment, so much bitterness, at a friend who he felt abandoned him. He wanted to share his dream with Kukui, they could be captains together - he could have someone to finally feel equal to. But no. Kukui never wanted the same thing, he aimed higher, farther, and he got to live his dream. Guzma was still struggling at the bottom, darkened by the mountain of Kukui's success.

At first, as Kukui exits, Guzma feels like the wind's been taken from his lungs - empty and short for breath. He's serious, he's really going through with it after all, huh? Fine. Fine. Sitting up robotically, Guzma follows after the Professor, body tense but also numb. Somehow this doesn't feel right. He doesn't want to do this, he doesn't want to go out there. He doesn't want to face Kukui.

He's scared.]

[ He doesn't know what else to do. Maybe this is the wrong choice

(Like everything else you've done, handling this? some inner voice says, scornfully, and he doesn't correct it.)

but either way, he always commits to what he's said, so he'll do it now. His heart is heavy, and he doesn't know if this will help, or if it'll turn out even remotely like he'd hoped.

He doesn't know what he expected, coming to talk to Guzma, but he doesn't want to let that chase him away. Not when he's run away before.

He doesn't know what this will accomplish, either.

They've walked a fair way - Kukui wants to discourage any spectators, this is private - before he stops, and turns. The expression on his face is strange, and a little sad, but that's probably not what Guzma wants to see either... ]

...When you're ready, yeah?

[If Kukui expects the rattling cackle of Guzma's usual bravado, he will be sorely disappointed. There's no laughter, no intimidation tactics, no high-energy. There isn't even rage at this point. Guzma doesn't know what to do but follow like a man to the gallows. He never felt this strained and trapped since...since he was trapped in that other world. That Ultra Space. This isn't how it was supposed to go, it's not what he wants to do. Guzma may say he'd love to knock Kukui one good, but this time - right here and now, when it's just them - it's all wrong.

But he can't say no. If he backs down, Kukui wins again. He's too proud to let that happen, too damn pigheaded. Guzma wants to win. Just once, just one time. But he doesn't want to fight like this either!! So what now?? What the hell does he do?! He can't even play this like a pokemon battle - all of his team were still hurting after fighting the little squirt on the beach, they needed to rest still.

Guzma takes off his sunglasses, folding them and putting them in his back pocket. Well, time to get this over with. Fake it until you make it, I guess.]

You picked a wrong day to mess with me, Kukui. ...Aint gonna let you back out this time.

[He exhales fingers twitching at his sides until they curl into fists. He doesn't want to move, but his body's too used to this - one arm lifts, reels back, and swings. Miss, dodge, move away, block it... Hit him first, anything.]

I've run away enough, yeah? Guess I deserve that.

[ The smile is small, and sad. He's always been quick to show emotions that weren't anger, after all. Always smiling, always brushing himself off and bouncing back and getting up again. Looking higher, further, always upwards.

(You never looked back. Does he blame himself? Maybe he does. Maybe he always has.

Maybe there isn't a 'maybe'.)

He doesn't know what he's expecting, not even from himself, but he's always taken things head on. Normally he might dodge, or just block, or laugh...if he'd ever really fought Guzma before.

He just lets that hit him, though, and stays silent. None of this feels right, and he doesn't really want to retaliate, either. ]

[His fist connects and Guzma immediately feels sick to his stomach when he hears the sound - like a mild crack - and he quietly hopes he didn't actually break anything. He wouldn't be able to handle seeing Kukui's blood on his knuckles. He doesn't have it in him to go any further, and Guzma steps back, dizzy and shaking. He doesn't even hit him back. He doesn't even hit him back!

WHY?!]

Guzma...wh-what is wrong with you?

[Hoarse, strained, like it took everything he had to even voice that one sentence. His hands tangle into his hair pulling roughly, probably splitting a number of strands from his skull. He can't do this. He can't. Guzma feels nauseous, the feeling of hitting Kukui still lingering on his skin like a disease. It's dirty, it's wrong, it's...it's bad. He feels bad, and he can't even get satisfaction from his own comeuppance.]

What is wrong with you?! [Hit me back, you damn idiot. Hit me back!!]

[ Maybe if this was more lighthearted, he'd goad him on, banter with him like he usually does. (Try to make it easy on him, at least.)

But he can't seem to muster up the will to do that. Guzma is so vulnerable; he can't possibly hit him now. He doesn't want to hurt him more than he's already been hurt.

Why did he ask this of him? He's not sure, any more.

His hands go up, sure enough, but it's not to hit him; it's to pull Guzma's hands away from his hair, gripping his wrists to stop him yanking at it. ]

Hey.

There's nothing wrong with you, yeah?

[ He can't look Guzma in the face right now. He's almost sure he'll cry, and he's not sure if Guzma would be able to handle it, to be honest. ]

Edited 2017-01-12 04:06 (UTC)

[If this were more lighthearted, Guzma probably would put his all into it - he's odd like that, and roughhousing is more his style. This, however...it has a deeper meaning, and even though Kukui can take a hit like the best of them considering how he is and what he does for a living, Guzma still feels the weight of having struck Kukui like that weigh heavily on him. He doesn't want to do that again, not with the intent to really mean something. He talks big, yeah, but that's all it is most times - just talk.

Guzma always knew Kukui was better than him, always has been. That's why he always pesters him into fights, picks on him, and acts the big man around him. Because he wants to pretend he can stand up to him. Pretend he's just as good, if not better than him. It's a facade, and having to break it isn't easy.

He flinches back from Kukui when he's touched, pushing roughly against his shoulder to put distance between them. Guzma doesn't want to be anywhere near Kukui right now, and takes a heavy step back, exhausted just by that alone. His body feels heavy and stiff, and his heart is racing.]

Get...away...from me--! [It's hoarse, soft, and comes out like it's a sheer act of Guzma's willpower. But there's desperation in the taller man's voice, and it's not a thread, but a plea.]

[ Kukui lets go, steps back, gives him space like he asks. It would be cruel of him not to.

All he's ever wanted is to make things right. But maybe it's something he should have let go of a long time ago.

(He still hopes, though. He always has. Kukui doesn't give up, doesn't stop throwing himself at the goal; just keep getting up. Keep moving forward. In this as well as other things.)

He brushes his hand against his face, and if those are tears, well, he's not saying anything. Not out of pride, but because it's one more burden. It's better if Guzma hates him, maybe.

(But he hates that, in his own way. It hurts.) ]

...Huh.

That didn't really go too well, yeah? [ He'd try harder to sound lighthearted, but he's not feeling up to it right now. He just sounds tired. More than a little empty, honestly. ]

Edited 2017-01-13 03:14 (UTC)

[Once given space to breathe, Guzma does just that - he sinks into a crouch, the usual squat, and bows his head to just...breathe. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to calm down, quell the urge to run away, to put as much distance between himself as Kukui as he possibly can. He doesn't want to run, but every pulse of his nerves sends a shock to his system: get out, get away, go, run. It takes all Guzma has to squash it.

He can't even be mad, his go-to emotion. He's just so...so emotionally exhausted. His head hangs and his arms rest on his knees. Honestly, Guzma isn't sure if he's about to hurl or pass out, but neither happen, and he's at least thankful it wasn't the former. His lip quirks up after Kukui speaks, and he rubs his face with one shaky hand.]

...Nah. [His shoulders shake with a broken chuckle.] For idiots like us, that's about what I expected.

Hey, there's only one idiot here.

[ He tries to laugh, at least, but it comes out wrong. More like a choke than a laugh, really. ]

S'not you, yeah?

[ He swipes his hand across his face, still trying to hold it in.

He's always been emotional. For better and for worse. It's trying, in times like now. ]

[The attempt at lightening the mood - because Guzma knows he's not built for this, he can't offer his sympathies like a normal person - falls flat. He doesn't know how to comfort someone well, it's just not what he does, how he acts. To offer one comfort, the opposite side needs to be open and honest - qualities Guzma does not have readily available. But.

But.

He can't ignore the way Kukui sounds just now. It stabs at his chest, draws points claws against his chest and pulls. He wishes he could care less, but there's not a chance of that now. He stands, still a little leaden, and shakes his head. He's love to tell Kukui he's wrong, but now's not the time for that. Guzma's not ready to bridge the gap between them, but the trench seems a little smaller now. Maybe.]

Kukui... [That's it, that's all he can think of to say. What else is there? He's no good at this.]

...It's nothing. Forget it, yeah?

[ He sounds a little pained, more than a little sad, but that's just how it is, isn't it? Kukui rushing ahead, messing things up. Always looking forward, charging without regard for anything else.

He tries to laugh, a little. It doesn't work so well.

It's closer than they've been in years, this strange atmosphere between them now. Even this feels better than such painful distance. ]

[For a moment, Guzma has to fight with himself - to let it go like he was asked. That's the easy way out, the way he's used to. Just forget about it and keep on going like how it's always been, how he's always been. But...what sort of change will he make if he keeps doing the same things? Keeps acting like the same punk he was as the leader of Team Skull? He says he can't change, and Guzma sort of believes it, but he...he wants to try. If anything, he's stubborn and determined to prove himself.

Maybe he can start here, right now, a toe in the water. If he can do this...this one little thing, then maybe--]

Kukui. Don't--...

[His tone is different. It's harder, more pointed, but not harsh. Guzma extends a hand out to Kukui, not to shake, but to clasp. He can't say it, words aren't what Guzma excels in, but he can at least do this much. One step at a time, little by little, he can...try. Even if it means never seeing Kukui upset like that again. Especially over a mess like him. He's not worth crying over, that's for damn sure.]

[ He blinks a few tears away, surprised briefly at Guzma just sticking his hand out, but...

He clasps it, almost immediately. Without hesitation (if there is, it's very little indeed). And if his grip is a little tight, if there's a little bit of unsteadiness there, what of it? He's not afraid to show it.

He's always wanted this back, or something like it. He wants to bridge the gap between them, too.

It's a start.

He smiles. A little. ]

[The grip on the other end is firm, sturdy, and though no words are spoken an oath is formed between the two men. Don't give up on me, is what Guzma would have asked, were he better and braver, and more outspoken. But no, he'll keep his wish in his heart, for now. It'll be a long road until he can trust Kukui again, but he's willing to give it a shot, at least. He wants his friend back, he just needs to...to get over his bitterness and anger at seemingly being left behind.

After a while, Guzma exhales and then puts his hands back into his jacket pockets, turning away with a snort.]

If we're done, you oughta get your face checked out, Kukui...it's lookin' more unsightly than usual.

CALL ME OUT/OPEN RP

THE KOOKY PROFESSOR

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