Bully (Amber)

[Dante Russo]

Dante was in a pissy mood. He'd been trying to shake what happened the other day, and it wasn't working. Fumble. Fumble. How could you fucking FUMBLE!? Are you, or are you not the king of thieves!? Well, I guess not, because you can't even filch a pack of cigarettes! What the hell happened to you, man!?

Dante grunted as he chucked a basketball against the wall. "I'm outa' practice, that's what frikin' happened," he muttered under his breath, taking a sharp step to the right and catching the ball when it hurtled back at him. He threw it again, angrily, using his whole body to thrust the ball forward where it slapped loudly against the wall.

The loss of this particular skill was deeply concerning to him. A large part of his identity was tied up in being an amazing fingersmith. Two years ago, he could get his fingers in and out of anyone's shit completely unnoticed. Pockets, purses, backpacks, you name it, he could pick it. Could. Past tense.

"RrrrraaaaAAAAAH!!!" Dante roared, throwing the ball again and turning away from the wall. He paced back and forth, hands on his hips. Seething. The ball bounced past him and he didn't move to get it. Instead he looked up at whoever else happened to be in the gym. Glaring.

"The hell are you lookin' at!?"

[Amber Krasenski]

Amber was, as usual, in an excellent mood, and, as was often the case, his excellent mood had lead him to the gym. There were a few other people milling about, practicing their athletics, but most were already involved in their own groups.

He scratched at his tank top, glancing around to see if anyone might be interested in playing with him, or allowing him to join a pre existing game. Oh! There was a boy all alone, perhaps he would want to play!

The spider shifter had begun in his direction when his target violently flung a ball toward the wall, not even bothering to chase it as it bounced back and rolled to the other side of the gym. The snarl caused him to take a step backwards, eyes wide.

"Umm. Your ball is escaping..." He offered feebly, pointing at the runaway object. It seemed that requesting a team at from this particular young man would be a bad idea...