✩ — ( ᵃᵇˢᵉᶰᶜᵉ )

     ❝ –  CORRECTION; my make-up, my say. ❞  it was some of her best work yet, and she will continue to say so; if he didn’t want her to. he shouldn’t be pulling it off as incredibly as he was.  cloud made for quite the alluring young lady. however with poise and grace.

     she gives his forearm a disciplinary slap with the back of her fingers which uncrosses his arm and knitted his brow into an even bigger sulk. ❝ – you’ll crinkle your dress, dear.    ❞ it was much to be desired.  despite the fact there were instances that really showed how perfect cloud was for the task to go undercover, as a lady.   it could be nerves, am uncertainty that had him locking himself into this singular pose as though he was stood on chipping ice; some of his movements made his male qualities became more… obvious.  BAYONETTA rummages through her clutch, fihsing out a mirror which she double-takes her own make-up while cloud lives his dress up; causing two passaby men wolf-whistle, thankfully passing behind the pair only seeing the leg and not the concealed weapons.       ❝ –  and where would be the fun in that? the element of surprise has quite the rewarding CLIMAX. ❞ she says, shutting the mirror with a SNAP. ❝ –  you’ve been reading too many fairytales, chocobo.  next you’ll be asking me where i keep the eye of newt. ❞

      ❝Yeah. Yeah.❞ He huffs, arms slipping down so that his hands can cup together before his stomach. Elegant, poised, like a dainty flower. Cloud wants blood. When all this is over, he’ll track down every single male who leers his way and give them exactly what they deserve. He’ll have his sword again by that point. ❝Wish you could just turn me into a frog and SMUGGLE me inside.❞

      And Johnny would never forget the mighty green warrior screaming out his ferocious battle cry for all of SECTOR 8 to hear. His wild PEEP of wrath could send chills down the spines of all the men who so much as made eye contact with the area that Bayonetta had situated him. The hungry stares of their lustful gazes were something Cloud never wanted to deal with again. His tiny sword taking perfect aim in his quest for RESPECT.

     A crate of flowers–just how heavy could that really be? Flowers didn’t even weigh anything, so he never for a second thought about struggling with them. Unfortunately he really hadn’t thought things through, and the sudden weight falling into his arms unbalanced him immediately. At least he’d had enough wit to let go of the crate before he toppled head first into the ground. 

     “…Yes?” Probably, at least? 

      Not a reassuring answer. But Cloud will take what he can get. ❝Just focus on using your legs? If you put your back into it, you’ll pull something.❞

      Cloud is literally a cloud on a sunny day, the one that looms in the sky and grows steadily darker as the weather begins to turn from hot to cool. He’s practically an ill-omen when the room is cheery and bright. He’s someone who never fit in with anyone - surly attitude his defense of broadening that wide birth between him and the population. SOME see through it, and everyone else takes him at face value. Like taking a bite of a bitter lemon.

        ❝ –   OH YES. that.  ❞  SHE DIDN’T PAY MUCH MIND TO THE GAME, why should she shoot at pixels when she could do the real thing when she wished? however, how or why rodin chose to upgrade or add to his bar was all him, and who was she to question? as long as her weapons remained in good nick and the sources flowed as much as the drinks did; she could turn the place into a funhouse for all she cared.    ❝ –  rather noisy thing. rodin thought adding a game might draw in more patrons, or at least entertain them.❞  the back of her hand creates a rest for her chin, her head cocking causing a pert glint in her glasses as she looks to the ex-solder, her smile feline-like.         ❝ –   got an ITCH, have we? ❞  

      ❝Not really.❞ Casual boredom, the kind where most people perceive as him giving refusal. But if someone REALLY knew Cloud, understood him beneath the layers and layers of heavy armor that he wore to shield his true self, they’d know that he was genuinely curious. They would know that he WANTED to play a silly, childish arcade shooter. ❝Just wondered what all the fuss was about.❞

      His sour frown presses against the lip of his glass and the hard alcohol rolls down his throat. The empty glass is returned to the counter only to be swiftly refilled by the MAD INVENTOR himself. SHINRA is a bane to all of them and Rodin had given his life’s work there only for it to be snatched away until Cloud entered the scene and found his, quote-unquote baby girl all grown up and bustin’ caps in SHINRA ass. Cloud appreciates the sentiment but it’s been a long time since he’s cared a rifle on his shoulder.

         ❝ –   someone’s in a good mood.  ❞    countering her tease with a joke?  it was little cues like that, that were his version of a smile.   NOW she was curious about his day, be it that their business always reciprocated over drinks.  she was always one for gossip.            ❝ –   rodin will be happy to hear that, and the lack of foul-mouthed, italian men is quite delightful too i’m sure.  ❞ 

       ❝Really improves the atmosphere.❞ He knocks back another mouthful, hard liquor dancing down his throat. There’s no place like the GATES OF HELL, an ominous but fitting title somehow. ❝Kinda curious, though. Rodin said something about some game machine around here? ANGEL ATTACK, what’s that about?❞

         ❝ –  HM, QUITE RIGHT. ❞  HER TONE SUGGESTS NO PLAY, a seriousness in her tone yet a coyness attached to it indicating a snake in the grass with her segment.  a snake? or an innocent caterpillar in the grass leaves many on their tiptoes.   BAYONETTA steel-greys slide over to him, half-lidded, powdered eyes gaze at him from the side with a shimmer, painted lips like the desert rose pull into a smirk as she clicks her tongue.  oh, she couldn’t hold back anymore…

         ❝ –  i don’t think a single word can sum up how beautifully you pull it off.❞

      ❝PLEASE...❞ He weakly sighs, tilting his head back and staring upward at nothing special but the steel sky they’re trapped under. He throws his head forward, blond extensions swishing back and forth and pulling at the shorter hairs they’re clipped in.  ❝I let you do my makeup. You don’t have to comment on it, too.❞

       His arms are crossed over his padded chest, corset feeling too snug against his ribs. She had a lot of fun tugging on that too. Cloud is a glutton for punishment, though. Bayonetta can’t help but reveal in his dramatics.