Katpride
Story Collector
Spork bites back a smart comment because, as hip with the kids as Vasia seems, they’re ‘not supposed to go around telling people they hit politicians with sticks.’ Blah, blah, yadda yadda.
Damn if they don’t enjoy their job sometimes, though. Some targets they don’t mind whacking a couple hundred times, for reasons entirely unrelated to their inclinations towards the cruel.
“Politeness is so last century. But hey, if you need someone to liven up the party you could always give me a call.”
Super. Hero. Parties. Yes. Hell yes. Even if it’s boring, they can cause so much chaos just by being there. They wonder how much it would take to get them kicked out of a stuffy political event, and if the threat of being put on some kind of list would be worth it. They adjust their sunglasses with a thoughtful nudge, something calculating in their smirk.
Of course, that’s all overshadowed by their sheer glee when she mentions her powerset. They turn to her in grinning disbelief, their eyebrows making a break for the upper atmosphere. “No way. Say sike right now, that can’t be it. How does that even work, do you just always know the right time for sh- things?”
They stumble a little over the swear, unsure why they’re even making the effort even as they change course. Must be something to do with the air of dignity that Vasia exudes. They really want to attend a superhero party.
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