[The details are unnecessary and he's sure the guy feels the same about whatever battles he involved himself in to the point where he's worried about blood on his Gucci clothes.]
And don't be so paranoid. It meant nothing and I can make whatever noise I please.
I'm not being paranoid, it just seemed like you had something on your mind when you said it...
[ Calm down, Mista. He had one last piece of salami in his hand, offering it out to one of the Pistols rather than the cats. It might have been a mistake given the fact that he almost immediately had to swat one of them away from the recipient, no matter, it's not like this guy could see any of it anyway. ]
...look, I'm still not used to the whole 'things are more relaxed here' thing so I get a little defensive. It's nothing personal, uhhh...
[ Shit, already off on the wrong foot and they didn't even know each other's names. There was an almost sheepish grin from Mista as he brought a hand up to the back of his neck and shrugged a little. ]
Sorry, I didn't get your name, did I? I'm Mista, Guido Mista but you can just call me Mista.
[ It was only a moment longer before he pushed himself up to his feet, approaching with his hand out for a shake. ]
His eyes fall to the weird bullets-the golden cased specks with faces that float around this weird salad named rando as they eat salami.
This world is full of strange occurrences and he's getting used to the surprise of dealing with people from other worlds.
But this Guide Mista holds a hand out, offers an apology and Caesar isn't callous enough to hold a grudge against someone willing to admit they were wrong. That anger is reserved for fools like JoJo, who refuse to own up to any shortcomings.
And it's not like Caesar hadn't been quick to bite back.
He grips the guy's hand and points towards the golden shelled creatures with another.]
My name is Caesar Zeppeli. [There's a pause, and-] And what are those?
[ There was a look over his shoulder to see what he was pointing at, as if there was something else behind him other than cats and the pistols. It was always interesting to find out who had the capacity to see them. ]
Those are the Pistols, they're kind of...
[ Hmmm, that was the thing that he really didn't know how to explain it for some people. ]
...well they help me with fights, like spirits I guess? Shit, I never really know how to explain what they are.
[ He pulled his hand back, reaching down to pat the gun in the waistband of his pants. ]
They're half of the reason I never miss, the rest is all skill.
[ Mista, there's a time and a place to be cocky and this was probably not it. ]
He can't be sure because he's only seen one with his own two eyes, but their form, their description-it's reminiscent of Rohan's ability. The power to manifest a bit of help.
The cocky kid points to his haphazardly placed gun and talks about his skill-it takes all of Caesar's self-control to hold back a scoff. He's no expert with the weapon himself, but he's 99.9% sure that's not how guns are supposed to be holstered.]
[ At least things were looking up after Mista was so defensive, that cocky attitude practically radiating from him. After a moment he looked around the café, trying to find something that he wouldn't be throttled for destroying and coming up with nothing. It wasn't that things weren't replaceable, but the last thing he wanted was for Reimi to think that he was trying to ruin her business.
After letting his hand rest on the gun's grip for a moment he finally let it go, offering a hand toward Caesar before gesturing toward the door. ]
Outside, I can't show you in here, someone'd probably get the wrong idea...
[ FOLLOW HIM, CAESAR. ]
...you pick the target, it doesn't have to be a straight shot but it does have to be something we can both see from right here. Sound good?
[ What the hell was all that about? For a moment he wondered if this guy had a Stand ability but he hadn't seen anything but the movement and the bubbles. This guy just blew fucking bubbles into the air with his fingers.
Seriously, he was going to have some questions about that later but for now this almost felt like it was way too easy. That much was clear from the cocky expression on his face, Mista letting out snort as finally pulled his gun from it's makeshift holster. Just a quick check of the chamber, counting out how many bubbles he could see and noticeably skipping a certain number. He would only need two shots, maybe three at the most...
He didn't give a warning, firing off those shots and setting the Pistols loose to do their thing. And do it they did; kicking, passing, redirecting and unmistakably yelling 'yeeeeeehaaaaaaaw' as they did it. They made short work of those bubbles, that smug look on Mista's face only growing as he put his gun back and crossed his arms over his chest. ]
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no subject
[The details are unnecessary and he's sure the guy feels the same about whatever battles he involved himself in to the point where he's worried about blood on his Gucci clothes.]
And don't be so paranoid. It meant nothing and I can make whatever noise I please.
no subject
[ Calm down, Mista. He had one last piece of salami in his hand, offering it out to one of the Pistols rather than the cats. It might have been a mistake given the fact that he almost immediately had to swat one of them away from the recipient, no matter, it's not like this guy could see any of it anyway. ]
...look, I'm still not used to the whole 'things are more relaxed here' thing so I get a little defensive. It's nothing personal, uhhh...
[ Shit, already off on the wrong foot and they didn't even know each other's names. There was an almost sheepish grin from Mista as he brought a hand up to the back of his neck and shrugged a little. ]
Sorry, I didn't get your name, did I? I'm Mista, Guido Mista but you can just call me Mista.
[ It was only a moment longer before he pushed himself up to his feet, approaching with his hand out for a shake. ]
How about a fresh start, sound good?
no subject
His eyes fall to the weird bullets-the golden cased specks with faces that float around this weird salad named rando as they eat salami.
This world is full of strange occurrences and he's getting used to the surprise of dealing with people from other worlds.
But this Guide Mista holds a hand out, offers an apology and Caesar isn't callous enough to hold a grudge against someone willing to admit they were wrong. That anger is reserved for fools like JoJo, who refuse to own up to any shortcomings.
And it's not like Caesar hadn't been quick to bite back.
He grips the guy's hand and points towards the golden shelled creatures with another.]
My name is Caesar Zeppeli. [There's a pause, and-] And what are those?
no subject
Those are the Pistols, they're kind of...
[ Hmmm, that was the thing that he really didn't know how to explain it for some people. ]
...well they help me with fights, like spirits I guess? Shit, I never really know how to explain what they are.
[ He pulled his hand back, reaching down to pat the gun in the waistband of his pants. ]
They're half of the reason I never miss, the rest is all skill.
[ Mista, there's a time and a place to be cocky and this was probably not it. ]
no subject
He can't be sure because he's only seen one with his own two eyes, but their form, their description-it's reminiscent of Rohan's ability. The power to manifest a bit of help.
The cocky kid points to his haphazardly placed gun and talks about his skill-it takes all of Caesar's self-control to hold back a scoff. He's no expert with the weapon himself, but he's 99.9% sure that's not how guns are supposed to be holstered.]
You never miss, you say.
I'd like to see that in action.
no subject
After letting his hand rest on the gun's grip for a moment he finally let it go, offering a hand toward Caesar before gesturing toward the door. ]
Outside, I can't show you in here, someone'd probably get the wrong idea...
[ FOLLOW HIM, CAESAR. ]
...you pick the target, it doesn't have to be a straight shot but it does have to be something we can both see from right here. Sound good?
no subject
Out the door they go and you know what? Caesar has a great idea for Mista I Never Misstashot.
There's no one around the area-it's quiet and void of anyone who may get hit with that friendly fire. Good enough for him.
The palm of hand settles on the back of his glove to unlatch the soap underneath and with a practiced inhale-
Small, iridescent bubbles appear from his fingers and raise into the air. They're tiny targets, but visible in the gleaming sunlight.]
Shoot those then.
no subject
Seriously, he was going to have some questions about that later but for now this almost felt like it was way too easy. That much was clear from the cocky expression on his face, Mista letting out snort as finally pulled his gun from it's makeshift holster. Just a quick check of the chamber, counting out how many bubbles he could see and noticeably skipping a certain number. He would only need two shots, maybe three at the most...
He didn't give a warning, firing off those shots and setting the Pistols loose to do their thing. And do it they did; kicking, passing, redirecting and unmistakably yelling 'yeeeeeehaaaaaaaw' as they did it. They made short work of those bubbles, that smug look on Mista's face only growing as he put his gun back and crossed his arms over his chest. ]
Too easy...