Games and Players (For snappleR)

"Gawd," sighs Blaise at the complete failure to penetrate those 'defenses'. "It's like trying to melee the Death Star. No, I mean, like, run up to that little vent thingie to try to take it out on foot."

His eyes shift sidelong to Amy, regarding that saccharine smile, then back to the screen. His head tilts from one side to the other, popping a couple vertebrae. "Ready for ya this time, blondie."

So begins round two!

Ready!

Fight!

Blaise promptly hipbumps Amy again, and attempts to take an early lead and milk it for all it's worth!

"Ack!" Amy yelped with the sneak attack, but laughed on her way back in. "You son of a bitch!" Sure enough, by the time she was back, Ogre was already down to half his life. Amy quickly switched out to her other character, but not before drilling a playful elbow into Blaise's side- nothing serious, they're weren't in the ring, after all, but enough to buy her the time she needed to catch up. She began her aerial assault again- seriously, this game was really broken.

"Blaise, you fought a good fight. But you' girls ain't got nothing on the demons of hell." As the lasers tore into the screaming women, she remembered suddenly why it was that eventually no one in her dorms in college had wanted to play this game with her any more. "Last words?"

Blaise crumples to the side as her elbow finds that spot in one's ribs that can't decide if it's ticklish or structurally weak. "Ahhh, stoppit! No cheating!," he laugh-scolds, despite doing essentially the exact same thing to her mere seconds ago.

He hammers those buttons with a fiery passion. "Demons of! Sucking! Rotten... eggs!," stammers the teen, paying less attention to what he's saying and more attention to watching his girls get cooked in eyelasers. "So laaaame!"

"K.O."

"Dude, you suck," chides Blaise, hands going to his hips. Despite his protest, he's smiling. The game itself? That's no big. He's having a great time, and it's written all over his face. "But if I'm payin' for the next game, you have to pick it."

Though he hasn't forgotten what she said earlier about apologizing. That his him all shades of curious. He just isn't going to needle her about it right now.

Amy put her hands up, turned her head to the side, and rolled her body in an exaggerated but feminine victory dance. “Yeah, I suck… at losing!” Despite having initially approached Blaise with a plan to apologize, he had a way of making people feel instantly comfortable around him. Blaise was a burning sun of positivity; Amy didn’t even feel the need to turn on her cleverness filter.

His deferral of game choice only solidified her impression of him. He didn’t really care about winning, else he would used his pick to select a game that he knew he could win. He was here to have a good time, same as her- either that, or his confidence was just really overflowing.

Amy took a moment to think, then she smiled. “Alright, Blaise, you got it. I’ll pick something that I’ll bet we’ve got equal footing on. Come on.” If this was anything like the arcades that she’d frequented, they kept their DDR machines in the back. Along the way, Amy asked a question that she’d been pondering since their first meeting. “So, why did you pick 'Blaze' for a ring name?"

Confidence? Some have accused him of having an over-abundance of it. Others have insisted he straight up has no survival instinct, or even the slightest semblance of self-awareness. But the reality is that Blaise is simply happy to be doing what he's doing and living life.

"Equal footing?," he asks as they begin walking. "What are we talking? House of the Dead? Everyone makes that 'reload' voice yell at'em like a Youtube remix..." But the question is abandoned in favor of Amy's curiosity. At first, he just blinks at her, lips twisting in a confused smile. And when he realizes she's being honest, he bursts into a short round of laughter.

"Ohhh, like that, do ya?" The girl is treated to an unabashedly brilliant smile. "I can't take credit for it. My parents came up with it. They're so smart. They knew it'd be a cool ring name so hard, they gave it to me at birth!"

With a look ahead, he spots the DDR machine and his eyes widen. He doesn't speak. He just turns a questioning look to Amy with a sly smile.

It's Amy's turn to be confused. "Your parents... are you legacy?" Apparently there were lots of family dynasties in the world of wrestling. Her own father was an accountant of some kind, she didn't really know the details. Then it hit her, and she laughed. "Oh shit, so your name is actually Blaise? Like B-L-A-I-S-E? Dude, you've got the coolest name, you should use that." She noticed his sudden awareness, and returned his smile. "Yeah, man, we're living the future, today. We play video games with our whole bodies now, so limber up. I'll let you pick the first song."

"Baby, you have no idea the can of worms you just popped open."

Blaise doesn't elaborate, but he does begin limbering up. His right knee bends back, and he nabs ahold of the toe of his shoe. In short order, he leans forward and tilts into a vertical split, his head lowering towards her waist. Maintaining the position, his head tips back to look up at her. "You know, you've got a good point. I should stop going by Tom."

Cheeky smile.

The foot is released and the teen realigns his body to repeat the process with the left leg. "Grats on spelling my name right the first time, though! Not a lot of people manage that."

Amy gave a low whistle as he showed off his flexibility. "Not bad, Blaise." Normally, Amy would have assigned her new friend a nickname- Tom would have been perfect, actually. But Blaise really was a cool name, and she'd have a tough time topping that.

Amy really did think that they were on a level playing field here. She had excellent reflexes and kinesthetic intelligence, but so did Blaise, probably, just like any dancer. With fitness controlled for, the only way that Blaise would have a definite advantage over her was if he was already familiar with the songs on this machine, which was unlikely, since this one was likely to be filled with Japanese songs (but not impossible, Amy acknowledged).

"I wish I could claim super spelling skills, but I actually knew a Blaise before." She started to stretch too- her quads. The vertical splits were impressive, to be sure, but groin work was going to be at a minimum when every step was no further than shoulder width apart. All the same, arcade patrons- casual and intense alike- began to notice the clearly athletic duo near the DDR machines, and a curious bustling crowd slowly started to form. "He was kind of a geek, though, so the I-S-E made sense. I'm thinking though that you could totally pull off the Z-E. Bonus points if you can smoke me on this machine." Amy was ready. She got onto the metal dance pad and turned to Blaise, her hand out and making the Bruce Lee 'bring it on' gesture. "Pay up, let's do this."

When someone tells Blaise to limber up, he might go into showoff mode. But whether or not he'll pay for not stretching the optimal muscle groups will have to be seen! The leg sets again, and he follows her up to the machine.

That definitive Bruce Lee challenge-beckon earns a grin. The teen steps up and leans in close to her, hand raised to gingerly set over her hand and guide it down. "Shh, shh. Can of worms, honey. You just don't know," he soothes in a gentle whisper.

Even the most casual of acquaintances should know something's up. He even confirms it as he turns to slip the coins into the slots. "I don't have to smoke you with this game. I have plans." The machine kicks on, and he steps onto the rightmost platform. "Do you even know how many plans I have?"

He makes no motion to select the song. Rather, he gestures towards the screen; lady's choice.

Amy's smile grew wider with every insistence at competence. Amy was almost certain that Blaise was full of shit, but his persistence started her brain off on working on a few contingency plans of her own. Just in case.

"I don't know. But if they're all only as terrifying as "bunny tactics," then I think I might be okay." Amy acknowledged his deferral with a slight curtsy and selected random, and the roulette landed on something unreadable, loud, fast, and techno, but very Japanese. The machine prompted the dancers to choose the difficulty level. "I'm sure you're okay with Insane difficulty, right, Mr. Can of Worms?" She selected for the both of them, and the game screen went black. There was a hush over the audience. "You ready?" Amy asked in a mock reverent whisper.