06-20-2018, 06:22 PM
Quite obviously, Beck had never been flirted to nor had he ever exchanged the favor. In all honesty, he only knew what flirting was thanks to the movies he binged back in his haunting days, and even then he was a third-party witness, staring at a staged couple through a screen and wondering if he would have experienced their story had he not been killed in his youth. A childlike longing that was quickly snuffed out by the cynical voice infecting his brain, reminding him nobody had cared enough to bury him --- why would anybody waste their time on him with cheap compliments and pick-up lines? Needless to say, he stayed a wide radius away from anything romantic, envy worming into his chest and taking root to flare up at any mention of someone else's happy relationship.
It was the exact same pang of jealousy and labored breathing that drew him over to the cotton candy-colored booth, nose twitching in unreadable irritation. Eyes glazed in curiosity, the mangy feline flopped down to take a seat away from the others. A paw rose to mindlessly knead at his sternum in a fruitless attempt to remedy the sudden flash of pain, hard enough to leave a dark bruise stamped on pallid skin if his fur wasn't there to hide it. What could Freyja possibly see in him? Nothing, give it up already. He was scrawny without any muscle to hide starved bones, disheveled and twitchy enough to appear as if he just escaped from an asylum, and branded with terrible scars that might has well left his gory past an open book to a trained eye. And those were just his physical insecurities! Don't even get him started on all the flaws he saw within his own personality. Yet in plain terms, he was nothing short of ugly. Giving a defeated grin that only the unscathed side of his face could properly express while his missing cheek remained stiff and exposing dangerous teeth to the world, Beck slouched and mumbled, "Betcha can't think of anythin' for me, huh?" At this, pathetic wheezes rattled in his chest as if he were attempting to giggle, paw still rubbing at his sternum in well-disguised pain.
[align=center]»――➤It was the exact same pang of jealousy and labored breathing that drew him over to the cotton candy-colored booth, nose twitching in unreadable irritation. Eyes glazed in curiosity, the mangy feline flopped down to take a seat away from the others. A paw rose to mindlessly knead at his sternum in a fruitless attempt to remedy the sudden flash of pain, hard enough to leave a dark bruise stamped on pallid skin if his fur wasn't there to hide it. What could Freyja possibly see in him? Nothing, give it up already. He was scrawny without any muscle to hide starved bones, disheveled and twitchy enough to appear as if he just escaped from an asylum, and branded with terrible scars that might has well left his gory past an open book to a trained eye. And those were just his physical insecurities! Don't even get him started on all the flaws he saw within his own personality. Yet in plain terms, he was nothing short of ugly. Giving a defeated grin that only the unscathed side of his face could properly express while his missing cheek remained stiff and exposing dangerous teeth to the world, Beck slouched and mumbled, "Betcha can't think of anythin' for me, huh?" At this, pathetic wheezes rattled in his chest as if he were attempting to giggle, paw still rubbing at his sternum in well-disguised pain.