Punchy-punchy Kicky-kicky

In a modern setting, Yang has recently suffered an arm amputation from a motorcycle incident (original, I know), and is working on recovery and building her confidence back up, but for someone who’s so used to being the center of attention and enjoying it, suddenly that’s the last thing she wants. She doesn’t need pity, she doesn’t want condolences, she just wants her goddamn arm back so people will stop staring at her like she has a disease.

Months of progress and confidence building, Yang gets set up on a blind Valentine’s date via Weiss, who she’s pretty sure is just pitying her bc she hasn’t gone out since the incident and everyone else will be too busy with their SO’s to keep her from losing her mind. Yang’s reluctant. She’s still a little insecure about showing it off, but she dresses up anyway in a strappy red dress that bares her shoulders…and the stump where her arm should be.

Cut to her sitting in a classy restaurant, surrounded by sickeningly sweet couples as well as desperate singles occupying the bar in hopes of getting laid. It’s been 20 minutes and her date still hasn’t shown up. The waiter is pushing Yang, telling her that they have a wait list a mile long and she can only keep the table if her date shows in the next 15 minutes.

Yang is fuming at this point, if only to hide her embarrassment. Her mind can’t help but wonder…had Weiss told her date about the arm situation? Would someone really be petty enough to stand a her up bc the thought of spending an evening with a one-armed girl was too uncomfortable for them? Of course they would. So much for progress.

Across the room. Mercury strolls in to the bar area with a shit-eating grin, ignoring desperate, hungry eyes that follow him, and tells the mint-haired bartender to pour him  the most expensive shit they have (bc Emerald, despite her eye roll, will end up giving free drinks, regardless). He makes a quick scan of the room, judging shamelessly, until he spots a head of wild gold that can only belong to the knockout that lives in his building. They’ve run into one another in the complex gym only once or twice, but it’s been enough to leave an impression, for better or worse. (Jokes may have been cracked at one party’s expense, insults may have been hurled back. It was a great time, in his opinion.)

He can’t help himself.

“How long has Blondie in the red dress been here and how much better looking am I than her date?”

“Half an hour and even though she’s alone I’m still gonna say no date is better than you, asshole.”

No date? He refuses to believe someone like her is desperate for attention enough to get all dressed up and wait to get hit on in a restaurant on Valentine’s night.  Emerald can practically read his mind.

“Leave the poor girl alone. It’s bad enough getting stood up, she doesn’t deserve to be subjected to you, too.”

He stopped listening after the words ‘stood up’ bc he can’t comprehend anyone having such an ego (which says a lot coming from him) to stand her up looking like that, he thinks looking her over once more…and then it clicks, noticing the way her shoulders slump, one hand rubbing self-consciously against a stump he had somehow overlooked. The action sends his own hand running down his thigh without much realization, silently understanding, filling him with indignation.

Time’s run out and Yang stands up to attempt to leave with the illusion of her dignity remaining intact, but a bottle of wine drops down in front of her and she looks up to lock eyes with a face she’s only ever glared at in exasperation.

“Sorry I’m late. I know how you’ve been dreaming of me since our last meeting.”

It’s a shitty line, but there’s sincerity behind it and Yang could never have anticipated running into this asshole here of all places…but at least he’s hot and she doesn't wanna go home alone.

“First, you keep me waiting and now you bring me wine instead of liquor? Two strikes, asshole.”

“One last pitch is all I need to hit a home run, right?”