consentacle fun, etc.

[n_ll]

The following prompts can be BYOM (bring your own monster) if you so desire! Anything goes. Literally anything.

"Monsters" are common around here. They always have been. While many societies choose to revere them as gods or use them to instill fear into ill-behaved children, the monsters of New Cloudbank are one with the people and have been able to hold jobs, own property and self, and vote; freedoms gained from a civil movement some decades ago. While societal integration has gone somewhat smoothly, there is some resistance held by conservative individuals that look down on monster-human relations and hold the untrue belief that some of the less humanshape monsters are a threat to people.

Boxer is an example of one such creature. His upper body is proportionally larger than any human; that if he stood on human legs he would easily reach thirteen feet tall, cut like someone who exercises on a needlessly regular schedule. However, he does not stand on human legs at all, but rather a numerous set of tentacles, rich cocoa-brown like the rest of his skin, decorated with stark yellow stripes at their base and a line of dots along their topsides, lined with dark golden suction cups on the opposite side, and delicate membranes between them. His yellow accents, including his eyes, glow under dark enough conditions to see them.

He's never harmed a human in his life, much rather the opposite if anything, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a reputation for it...

Errands.

A monster's gotta eat.

Of course, he doesn't have to drop by for meat, as the only thing he puts on his table are things he caught with his own hands swimming in the depths outside of the bay. But frying fish in its own juices does not a meal plan make, so regular supermarket trips are the solution to well-rounded meals.

But he can't quite get around like everyone else, on account of boneless tentacles being designed more for underwater agility than, well, walking. So he has to opt for a wheelchair, one custom-built to accommodate his bulk and allows him to comfortably use his extra appendages for his wheel-based mobility while keeping his hands free.

Although being just shy of wheelchair-bound on land, he's at less disadvantage than one might think, using his long tentacles to snatch things off of the topmost shelf with length to spare. Otherwise, he tries to keep them hidden under a soft, knitted blanket, for the comfort of strangers, who tend to stare anyway. (Oh well.) He likes to joke that it's not his form, but the fact that he chooses to dress somewhat formally even for his mundane outings, even though he knows that's not the case.

Maybe you're the one struggling to reach that favorite item of yours so conveniently stashed just beyond finger's grasp on the top shelf.

"Here. I'll get that for you," he says, with an easy smile.

Bet you weren't prepared for a tentacle to hand you something when you went out today.

Shore.

This quiet little section of the beach is usually deserted, rumored to be the place where feral monsters hunt for humans. Now this, this is a rumor that is entirely Boxer's fault, purposely spread to his few visitors so he could have this little piece of heaven all to himself.

Maybe you're a regular here. Maybe you're a brave new first-time visitor, hopefully to catch sight of the man-eating monster for yourself. Either way, the sight is hardly as intimidating as the legend: he's sprawled out naked on the warm sand, basking in the sunlight that beats against his bare, chiseled back as he naps.

Scary.

Water.

New Cloudbank is a large city-state with bustling seaside commerce, full of fishery companies, international trade, and tourism. A water-dweller like Boxer is almost never without work, since many companies are chomping at the bit to commission an strong, amphibious monster to survey the deep for the next best catch, keeping the water safe, or mounting rescues for wayward tourists.

He loves what he does for a living.

Maybe you, too, are of similar business, using your nonhuman physiology to your advantage in the outer bay waters, catching Boxer in the middle of what he does best. Or maybe you're simply a patron of these companies--for Boxer, as brazen as he is to get a free drink, will gladly suction-cup climb his way into boats and schmooze with locals and tourists alike.

Wildcard!

Comments

[n_ll]

The encounter leaves him feeling...well, unsettled. Talk about your bad first impressions. But it's not until he finally distracts himself with the task at hand that he remembers her name--Sybil Reisz, a name commonly thrown around in the realm of the fashion district, but she wasn't...a model, or a designer, or even some talking head. She just was.

He only dabbles in fashion headlines, though, so he doesn't sweat it too much.

With his grocery bags firmly attached to the back of his chair, Boxer is busy texting someone as he rolls himself out of the grocery store, coming to an unexpected halt when he runs into a certain pair of metal high-heeled shoes. He startles when he looks up at her, but the fright disappears when it turns into anger.

"Look, lady. I might be one of the more--" he throws up air quotes, "exotic monsters you've seen...and that you're some big-wig fashionista or whatever. That doesn't give you the right to stalk me."

[lovespeople]

A predictable reaction, honestly. She's not here to make a good first impression, she's here to make an impression. She has a goal, she's going to meet that goal, and there isn't a thing that Boxer can really do about it. Much like a talent scout scours for possible talent, she had scoured for her hoard and found him.

"Hardly." She holds out a hand, a business card pinched between her gloved fingers. "A meeting, under more professional circumstances. This weekend, perhaps, but at your leisure. Let me at least treat you to a meal for the difficulty."

There is full confidence in her voice, and no room at all for argument in the offer. It's on his terms to meet with her, and at no cost to him. The business card has her personal number, and even her address. One would think she didn't hand that sort of thing out often at all, but apparently she did enough to warrant cards. Either way, she does at least finally realize she needs to provide some measure of comfort to make him more willing to come along.

"I promise you won't be disappointed, but just so you know: You're hardly exotic at all." She's seen much weirder.

[n_ll]

Professional.

Damn it.

If she wanted to hire him for something, then why didn't she say so out of the gate? Still disgruntled, he looks down at her business card to assess it before pulling the lapel of his jacket open so he can tuck it into his breast pocket.

And she's gotta go and say something like that...what does she know? What does she know of all the needless bullshit, the unwanted attention, he's had to put up with?

"I'll think about it," he grumbles, rotating his wheelchair to get around her.

It actually takes him the better part of a month to get back to her--in hopes that whatever business that brought her there had passed and therefore became inconvenient for her--and even then, it's through a text message instead of a phone call. All it says is a date and an address to an expensive restaurant, outside of Bayside and therefore far from his home.

[lovespeople]

And thinking about it was all he needed to do. The idea had taken root enough, she saw how he eyed the card. It wasn't dismissively tucked into a pocket or cast aside, he had actually looked it over. It was only a matter of time before he got back to her.

A month, unfortunately, was longer than she was expecting. The time, for her, is spent agonizingly checking over her hoard and growing frustrated at the lack of a certain addition. But her pride refused to accept that seeking him out again was even an option. He would come to her.

When the text finally comes, a fire practically lights in her eyes. She drops everything to answer it, of course. She hasn't lost one bit of enthusiasm towards the prospect of obtaining him, and if anything this has all boosted her enthusiasm to do so. She won't want to let him go, and she's certain that he would be right at home in her home. A little cleaning up here and there, plus picking up her... messes. The mangled pile of metal behind her was an example of a mess, it was a product of her frustration. There was a certain amount of calm that came from bending metal with your bare hands, and she'd had plenty of time and plenty of metal.

Her text reply to him comes just over a minute after receiving the initial message. The call for a reservation at the restaurant followed. With that, it was set. All that was left to do was meet him there. The day can't come soon enough.

Now she just has to come up with something to wear. Maybe something to go with his colors...

[n_ll]

Boxer's just about to put his phone away when it buzzes once again. He rolls his eyes--this woman plays hardball like she gets paid for it. God, this better be worth it.

He's late.

Not egregiously late, but long enough that some of the other patrons notice that Sybil is sitting by herself for far too long, but the sentiment wanes when he actually shows up--rarely will these citizens begrudge the "disabled" for tardiness. Especially when he's put in the effort to be dressed to the nines--appropriate for this venue--in something he clearly spent a lot of money on to have this bespoke upper suit made for his bulk, a matching wrap going the complete distance to hide his inhuman lower half completely. Even the tentacles usually relegated to wheel duty have been packed away.

"Sorry. Been a long day."

Whether or not it was a lie or not is undetectable; the only thing in his eyes for sure is the faint yellow glow they have in this dim light, a stark change from the bleached light of the supermarket.

He orders a bottle of wine by name, one of their more expensive lines for those with a taste for dryer profiles.

[lovespeople]

On the exact opposite end of things, Sybil arrives early. Nearly a half hour early. She's frequented this location numerous times before, and at the very least has her set of preferred servers who she deals with. They're all too familiar with her having meetings come and go, or perhaps not come at all. She couldn't care less what the other patrons thought, so she pays them no mind at all.

Boxer's tardiness, however, sparks the smallest hint of annoyance at the back of her thoughts. If this venue were the type to permit it, she would be sorely tempted to indulge in a cigarette while she waited. She makes do with blowing out the little candles at her table. But as things were, she was stubborn and arrogant and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction or humor of seeing her in the middle of a drink or any food. The most he would catch her with was her phone as she idly thumbed through her various other prospective meetings. Few had the appeal that he did, and even fewer had the audacity to behave like he had. Too many were all too willing to kneel down and kiss her feet, and while the first dozen were a treat... the further dozens had lost their appeal over the years.

When he finally arrives, she sets her phone face-down on the table with its metallic cover glimmering faintly. He had managed to match her with that suit of his, and that was something she was impressed by. Of course, her dress was entirely capable of turning heads on its own but that was beside the point.

She lets his comment slide, she honestly doesn't care if it's a lie or the truth. It was of little importance now. What she wants here, now, is to make a statement. He's statement enough with that faint glow of his, but she has a glow as well. It's one of many, many things she keeps hidden but... for this? Perhaps not.

Slowly, she reaches over to the nearby matches for the table's candles as he orders the wine. "I remain pleased that you chose to meet with me." she practically purrs the words.

"It would have been to your detriment to miss out on this opportunity." She's grinning now as she strikes the match against the box, the sudden flare of fire illuminating them both. More striking is the way the fire reflects and shines in her eyes, metallic colors swirling and shifting visibly throughout her iris... all around a very inhuman vertical pupil.

"And the wine is a lovely, lovely choice."

[n_ll]

She's right. It's a lovely choice of wine, and he can't wait to be halfway through the bottle already.

Once he gets his chair properly under the table, he leans an elbow on it, and with it, he rests his head on his palm. The weight makes the otherwise rich, sturdy table creak, as he watches her little fire-light trick. Color him unimpressed, even through the revelation; must be nice to be a monsterkind that can actually hide their true nature.

Could probably find something else just as fine, he thinks to himself, but he tries to be on his best behavior when he's facing a potential employer.

"As an independent contractor, it's only fair to give everyone a fair chance to pitch their idea to me," is the response he decides to say, shortly before looking at the menu. He wonders how many of the things on this menu were things he caught with his own hands. Calamari, huh...

[lovespeople]

His demeanor is equal parts fascinating and frustrating. He remains unimpressed with her, and it shows. He's purely business. What she has to ask him and demand of him needs a certain degree of openness that he has yet to show. She's not one to kidnap, despite the many urges she's feeling to go ahead and do so. She wants him willingly, but she won't accept not getting him. Perhaps starting small, then. Very small.

"Are you often propositioned by strangers to do work that you are..." She grins, clearly amused with the direction she's turning the focus. "...uniquely qualified for?" She'll address what her idea is soon, but small talk seems a good way to keep things going.

She leans back in her seat as the server comes with the wine, it's all the typical motions of serving an expensive bottle. Sybil keeps her eye on it all but doesn't immediately drink when she lifts her now full glass. "I have use for your talents, and you will be properly compensated for your time."

[n_ll]

He looks up at her with an incredulous expression.

"Yes. That's what my entire business model is based on. Not many ocean-bound monsterkind are as inclined to conduct business with land-dwellers as I am--the complications should be evident."

Like the thing he's sitting on.

"So I take advantage of the demand. Though...I've been in the business in Bayside for long enough that few of them count as strangers anymore."

[lovespeople]

"Why do you not simply refuse your business to those who cause those complications?" She's trying to figure him out, sorry Boxer you're being talent scouted. "There is enough of a demand from those who know you and your work. Or is even that only just enough?"

She finally takes a sip of her wine, idly swirling it in its glass afterward. If he was strapped for cash, that would make this even simpler. She had enough money that she could make use of to tempt him. She didn't want to take the nasty route and turn all his business connections against him, that was dirty and underhanded and entirely effective. But if she was going to have any hope of keeping him long term, she wanted to begin on a good note and not a bad one.

Ironic, really.

[n_ll]

"No one is causing me any complications except the extremities below me."

He stares at her for a moment, then heaves out a sigh. God, he really wants to drink his wine right now, but he's not inclined to drink over work...even if the temptation is nearly overwhelming.

He crosses his arms over the table.

"With all due respect, miss Reisz, may I request that you cut to the chase? Whether or not your offer would improve my quality of life is my decision alone."

[lovespeople]

Damn.

He was frustrating, but she wasn't going to let it show. She leans back in her seat, not letting the grin fade from her features. He wanted to know? Fine.

"I want you to live in at my residence. To model." He was a truly beautiful individual and she wished to have it at least preserved forever if she couldn't keep him.

But hopefully he would stick around anyway.

[n_ll]

"Hm."

In the interim, the waiter comes by to take their orders. Boxer opts for the calamari after all.

While the prospect of living at her residence is almost enough to make him reject the offer, but modeling? It's not something he's done before, and it's an interesting idea...people are fond of reminding him how built and attractive he is, though he works on his appearance for the sake of his own confidence rather than being eye candy for anyone else.

His closet is woefully empty, too, and not just because he prefers to be naked while in the water. If he models, well...almost no one would be able to fit into whatever was made for him, so he'd get free, well-fitted clothes out of the deal, right?

At least he's interested in hearing more.

"Keep talking."

[lovespeople]

Sybil notes the irony of Boxer's aquatic-based food choice and decides on fish for herself. Charred, predictably.

Amusingly, her responses with more information more or less confirm his suspicions. Free clothing, being eye candy, getting paid.

"Minimum two year contract, exclusive rights to photograph you going to the companies of my choosing." The companies she profits from, of course. "Required residence on my estate, access to any food, resources, and recreation you see fit."

She idly pulls out a folder and pushes it across the table to him. It details the place she calls home and includes floor plans and depths of all water features available. Disturbingly, there is a molten metal pool in the lowest level.

No one will ever know how much she paid to make this place a reality.

[n_ll]

He takes the folder from her and flips through it silently as she talks. Numbers are cool and all, sure, but he's gotta see it in person to make sure he wouldn't feel claustrophobic. That molten metal pool must cost an arm and a leg to maintain...

"Why do you require residence occupancy? This is in the fashion district, isn't it?"

Hmm. He's not very comfortable with the idea of living so far from the bay, but if the pools are bioactive...well, he'd be able to sleep in them, at the very least.

"And does this mean I can't, say, take selfies with my friends? Do these "exclusive rights" include to non-profit photographs?"

[lovespeople]

Having a readily available supply of metal made it easier to maintain the pool, but that wouldn't ever be something for Boxer to worry about.

"It is, and the residency is for personal reasons. I bond quite closely with the models I employ to ensure that they are both the best they can be physically and mentally." She takes another sip of her wine, then visibly deflates a little. Deliberately showing a note of weakness. "And my residence is quite large to be occupied solely by me all the time."

Thankfully his question is a much lighter note, and it earns a laugh from her. "Not at all, you're more than welcome to do so. In fact if you wanted to run something on social media you have every freedom to do so."

[n_ll]

So it's not for his own interests. It's for her helicoptering. He also notes the carefully chosen moment of weakness that might've made another man cave, but he feels like too much of his freedom is at stake to jump on it.

"I don't want to give up my apartment in Bayside." He's clearly not the kind strapped for cash, if he can afford an apartment in Bayside of all districts, which tends to run just as high as the entertainment districts--given the waterfront property.

"If you intend for me to stay healthy and trim, I need access to the wide-open ocean. A pool to me is nothing more than a bed, and even less if you treat them with chemicals."

He closes the folder and slides it back over to her.

"Draft me a contract and we'll work out the kinks."

[lovespeople]

He kept proving to be too smart, which was honestly a good thing. An intellectual challenge was far better than an intellectual bore. She'd thought her little show of humanity would make more of an impact, but apparently not. Oh well. For now he's making demands, and not one of them is unreasonable.

"A cleaning service can be supplied to keep it tidy while you're gone." She offers, she's only really half focused on this answer. In the back of her mind it doesn't even really register because he's not going back there? Eh.

"Of course." She places her wine glass down and intertwines her fingers as she answers. "The water in my home is untreated, and can be easily changed from fresh to salt depending on your needs. And you will have the same access as I do to beachfront locations and, by extension, the ocean." And if her connections paid off, there could even be a plan to visit one of the structures at the bottom of the ocean. Scientists used them primarily, if she remembered right. Unless they were science fiction? She honestly wasn't sure of the validity of that because she hadn't found anyone to inquire with. The past month had pushed her to do plenty of reading regarding aquatic creatures.

"Wonderful." She visibly brightens at the confirmation of the contract. "Then let us dine and celebrate, to a bright and famous future."

[n_ll]

"No cleaners." He puts his proverbial foot down instantly. "Privacy thing. That's one of the reasons I want to keep it in the first place."

One wonders if someone who spends so much of her time exposed to the public would understand another who would rather spend their time cooped up and left alone. If he's at her place, he'd never feel like he had proper privacy, even if he did have locks or whatnot--it might be a territorial thing, he's not quite sure.

As their food is brought to them, Boxer closes his eyes with a soft, amused smirk. "I haven't signed anything yet, Ms. Reisz. But for what it's worth, I'd like to see the place with my own eyes."

[lovespeople]

Well, there goes that option to snoop into his private life. Or gather blackmail material. Or both. Not that she would blackmail him, but it never hurt to keep an ace up her sleeve. Even if she would use it. It didn't matter that it didn't make sense, it was reassuring to her even so.

She eyes the food as it arrives, but only briefly before he responds. "Of course. You are welcome to come at your convenience."

She'd rather he come sooner, predictably, but she makes no indication of that. "And accommodations can be made for anything that is not to your needs." She pauses, suddenly looking rather surprised. She's gone and done probably one of the dumbest thing she's ever done. She got so transfixed by him and her need to collect him that she'd forgotten a crucial detail.

"I believe I have never asked your name." She laughs softly. "Consider that a shining endorsement for your looks."

[n_ll]

Yeah, he figures that's what she's going for.

"Remove the chemicals from the pools and run them clean for a month. I'll be able to stay overnight if you do."

What can he say? He pins her for being a little crazy, but this job opportunity sounds like a pretty interesting change in scenery. He chuckles when she mentions his name.

"I'm flattered, but that's because I never gave it to you. You can call me whatever you'd like."

How mysterious.

[lovespeople]

It's only natural to want to snoop into the life of someone you intend to keep forever isn't it?

"One pool already is, and the rest can be drained and filled again without chemicals in under a week." She counters, intending on having him sooner rather than later. But she knows it sounds like she's rushing it, so she clarifies. "So you have more flexibility for when you move in."

Also wow, she's not crazy at all. It's not her problem that he and others don't understand the peculiarities and specifics of dragon behavior. But then again, he has no idea what she is yet. He'll learn soon enough, and then it will be too late to do anything about it.

But hopefully he won't want to do anything about it.

"That's a dangerous offer." She grins, honestly a little possessively and she doesn't care to hide it. She's tempted to say she'll just call him "Mine" but it might be too soon. Instead, she hums for a few moments before finally answering. "I think I'll just call you boy. I'm sure you'll be creative enough to give me a better name, or convince me to call you something better."

Childish name for a childish response, maybe she'll call him "man" after he proves it... In certain ways. She puts the thought aside before it gets too far.

[n_ll]

Oh, so she is capable of presenting some kind of challenge--but "earning" a name when he doesn't care about such pleasantries in the first place? Whatever. At least it's the thought that counts.

"You could have picked from much better contenders if you were looking for a boy," he offers. He know she's trying to yank his chain.

Or tentacle, as they case may be.

[lovespeople]

"That's up to you to prove, isn't it?" She smiles, pleased that she's at least earned a proper response instead of further sarcasm. "I picked the best of the boys to prove himself a man."

She wasn't wrong, though she wasn't going to say she viewed him as much more than a boy already. She wasn't without imagination, after all, and a man of his figure and with his attributes was... not something to be ignored.

Hopefully they'll both be able to retire to the same place to get to know each other better. In fact... Yeah no, she's going to inquire. "Do you have any plans after we finish here?"

[n_ll]

Really? What kind of angle is this? If she wants to hire him that badly, then why does she keep trying to make pot-shots at his confidence? Boxer narrows his eyes at her over his food.

"If it isn't be self-evident enough to start with, maybe the woman is still yet a girl."

Yikes. His glare is only broken when he looks down at his food to eat more of it.

"I'm going to go home, drink a few beers, and watch a recording of the game," he answers. So, yes, he does, but...well, at least he's honest.