[ This spot is by no means 'his'. It's a free standing court in a public park visited by plenty of people of all ages every day of the week. But Pietro so often manages to find a time just before dusk where no one's claimed it, and so he's done just that. This is his spot.
It's great for when he needs to clear his mind, which is often considering how much it likes to race. Nothing pressing to think about here, just getting the ball up and down the court, shooting, dunking, whatever muscle memory feels like doing while he's on autopilot working out whatever it is he actually needs to focus on.
And maybe the occasional fooling around. Y'know, since it's such low stakes.
He doesn't have the strength or momentum to make a shot from all the way across the court, but he's gotten fed up with all his thinking and let his imagination sneak in instead. Bleachers full of fans chanting his name, ('Max-i-moff! Max-i-moff!') seconds on the clock, it's all come down to him in this moment with the coolest possible windup--
And a very un-spectacular miss. Barely near the headboard. He scoffs, no big deal, half-jogging to fetch the ball before it bounces too far away. In his imagination he can say that looked plenty cool.
[To all appearances Pietro indeed has the court to himself, aside from a bold squirrel that ventures close to the edges to scavenge, only to flee at the loud impact of ball against metal fence. But appearances are deceptive, as the pigeon perched on a branch overlooking the court would know better than most, its beady eyes fixed on Pietro as he shoots balls around the court.
Wastrel.
As the ball bounces off the pigeon takes wing, flapping down to vanish behind a nearby bush behind Pietro. It's only a moment after that the figure of a teenage girl emerges, hands tucked into her pockets, earphones clamped over a shock of purple hair, drawing to a halt as she watches the ball bounce and calling out in wryly amused crisp British tones.]
You know, if you're going to try out for the school team accuracy is something you really need to work on.
[ There's a double take when he hear's another person's voice, so sure he'd been alone this whole time, but...well. Can't really argue with what's right in front of you, even if it is inconvenient.
He's. Seen this girl, he's pretty sure. Yeah, yeah, the purple streak is a dead giveaway, especially when it's so often paired with distinctive white bangs. Never caught her name, never really cared to, but if she's cozying up to the X-Freaks she'll be trouble at worst and annoying at best.
Idly, he starts dribbling again once his feet are back on the court proper. ]
At Bayville? No thanks. We've already got one of the worst players in the state on the team and I don't need that dragging me down.
[Risty doesn't roll her eyes at the assertion, although she does allow a slight snort to escape her. The boy's always had his father's arrogance with little of his ability, incurable by his age but at least it made him easier to control.]
Well if you're going to be taking shots like that I don't think there's much further down you can go.
She grins cheekily, but there's no sense of judgement, quite the opposite, her expression is warm and friendly. Pietro might not be able to see it but Risty's endocrine system is operating at far beyond human efficiency, her glands pumping out a mixture of dopamine and oxytocin that will hopefully encourage Pietro to relax and feel good about her presence.]
May I?
[She gestures to the ball, holding out an arm expectantly.]
[ He walked right into that one, there's no denying it. There's some way to blame this on that 'worst player' too, surely, but he should be focusing on the here and now while he can.
The only thing slow going for Pietro is trust. He's still suspicious of this rogue variable, not sure what to make of her just yet, but something...something, somewhere in his gut, isn't reading her as a threat. Not yet, at least.
He deigns to make the trip of a short few steps over to hand her the ball instead of tossing it. ]
Go ahead. Knock yourself out.
[ Maybe with a little more observation he can put whatever it is the back of his mind's thinking into words. ]
[Risty's eyebrow raises questioningly at his response, but she doesn't press given he doesn't say anything further, taking the ball from him and moving into position in front of the basket, bouncing it experimentally a few times. It's plain this is a game Risty's played before.]
Let's see...
[She shoots a ball at the basket, pitched deliberately so that it bounces off the hoop, her face crinkling in entirely feigned frustration as she jogs over to retrieve the ball.]
My coach back home said its all about distance and force...Crap!
[She misses again, this time with it ricocheting off the backboard and toward Pietro. What a coincidence.]
You wanna try? Bet I can beat you to three. [She nods toward the basket with a grin.]
[ Years of acting chops and minutes of pheremones combine into a convincing, harmless picture of a girl goofing around with a basketball. It's almost endearing, like a kitten bouncing a toy around with no goal other than moving wherever it wants in that instant, and Pietro's guard is effectively down.
Up enough to catch the ball, though. One handed, just to show off. ]
If you beat me to three? I'll buy you a soda.
[ Starting up another dribble, he's already in position to dash forward. ]
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timeasmymeasure
@deadlyblue
Date: 2025-11-08 07:32 pm (UTC)It's great for when he needs to clear his mind, which is often considering how much it likes to race. Nothing pressing to think about here, just getting the ball up and down the court, shooting, dunking, whatever muscle memory feels like doing while he's on autopilot working out whatever it is he actually needs to focus on.
And maybe the occasional fooling around. Y'know, since it's such low stakes.
He doesn't have the strength or momentum to make a shot from all the way across the court, but he's gotten fed up with all his thinking and let his imagination sneak in instead. Bleachers full of fans chanting his name, ('Max-i-moff! Max-i-moff!') seconds on the clock, it's all come down to him in this moment with the coolest possible windup--
And a very un-spectacular miss. Barely near the headboard. He scoffs, no big deal, half-jogging to fetch the ball before it bounces too far away. In his imagination he can say that looked plenty cool.
Good thing no one's around to say otherwise. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-11-18 01:58 am (UTC)Wastrel.
As the ball bounces off the pigeon takes wing, flapping down to vanish behind a nearby bush behind Pietro. It's only a moment after that the figure of a teenage girl emerges, hands tucked into her pockets, earphones clamped over a shock of purple hair, drawing to a halt as she watches the ball bounce and calling out in wryly amused crisp British tones.]
You know, if you're going to try out for the school team accuracy is something you really need to work on.
no subject
Date: 2025-11-21 02:17 am (UTC)He's. Seen this girl, he's pretty sure. Yeah, yeah, the purple streak is a dead giveaway, especially when it's so often paired with distinctive white bangs. Never caught her name, never really cared to, but if she's cozying up to the X-Freaks she'll be trouble at worst and annoying at best.
Idly, he starts dribbling again once his feet are back on the court proper. ]
At Bayville? No thanks. We've already got one of the worst players in the state on the team and I don't need that dragging me down.
[ Said like a true team player. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-11-28 10:49 pm (UTC)Well if you're going to be taking shots like that I don't think there's much further down you can go.
She grins cheekily, but there's no sense of judgement, quite the opposite, her expression is warm and friendly. Pietro might not be able to see it but Risty's endocrine system is operating at far beyond human efficiency, her glands pumping out a mixture of dopamine and oxytocin that will hopefully encourage Pietro to relax and feel good about her presence.]
May I?
[She gestures to the ball, holding out an arm expectantly.]
no subject
Date: 2025-11-29 10:46 am (UTC)[ He walked right into that one, there's no denying it. There's some way to blame this on that 'worst player' too, surely, but he should be focusing on the here and now while he can.
The only thing slow going for Pietro is trust. He's still suspicious of this rogue variable, not sure what to make of her just yet, but something...something, somewhere in his gut, isn't reading her as a threat. Not yet, at least.
He deigns to make the trip of a short few steps over to hand her the ball instead of tossing it. ]
Go ahead. Knock yourself out.
[ Maybe with a little more observation he can put whatever it is the back of his mind's thinking into words. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-12-05 10:55 pm (UTC)Let's see...
[She shoots a ball at the basket, pitched deliberately so that it bounces off the hoop, her face crinkling in entirely feigned frustration as she jogs over to retrieve the ball.]
My coach back home said its all about distance and force...Crap!
[She misses again, this time with it ricocheting off the backboard and toward Pietro. What a coincidence.]
You wanna try? Bet I can beat you to three. [She nods toward the basket with a grin.]
no subject
Date: 2025-12-19 04:18 am (UTC)Up enough to catch the ball, though. One handed, just to show off. ]
If you beat me to three? I'll buy you a soda.
[ Starting up another dribble, he's already in position to dash forward. ]
Get ready to see how a star actually plays.