[ GASP! What kind of development is this! Scott is exuding such confidence, that not a single article of clothing is going to be lost on their watch. Now the pressure is on. Not just for the gullheaded freaks across the net, but for Ragna as well. He's only watched volleyball! But...he at least knows the basics. That, and he can at least bank on a couple factors. He's tall. He knows he's strong. And if it boils down to it, he can pour on the juice when it comes to bursts of speed when need. Scott's a terrific hand-to-hand fighter; he should know, he bested him the first time! But as for everything else that follows? Whose to say?
Whilst the gulls prepare their serves while the NPC crowd bicker amongst themselves if the King really was going to live up to his word, or get dragged down into the abyss by his lowly 3 of a subject partner... ]
Shit. With confidence like that, who am I to pump the brakes.
[ Ragna stomps forward, taking the receiving side of the future server. The one with the big titties. ...but which one? The beefy ass pecs on the "male" bird, or the ones straining in their bikini top? They're both hauntingly distracting. And yes, it's ALL the goddamn fault of their heads. He can't be rattled. Can't fall behind. Cracking his knuckles, his brow knits and body is ready. ]
Bring it on, you beaky sonsabitches!
[ If Ragna can just properly defend and get it up for Scott (heh), he can deal a wicked spike. One can only hope as the bird delivers a wicked serve.
WAY TOO FAST— ]
!!!
[ It's going for the far right corner, in bounds! And Ragna has to quite literally take a dive into the sand with an outstretched hand to tap it up into the air. ]
no subject
Whilst the gulls prepare their serves while the NPC crowd bicker amongst themselves if the King really was going to live up to his word, or get dragged down into the abyss by his lowly 3 of a subject partner... ]
Shit. With confidence like that, who am I to pump the brakes.
[ Ragna stomps forward, taking the receiving side of the future server. The one with the big titties. ...but which one? The beefy ass pecs on the "male" bird, or the ones straining in their bikini top? They're both hauntingly distracting. And yes, it's ALL the goddamn fault of their heads. He can't be rattled. Can't fall behind. Cracking his knuckles, his brow knits and body is ready. ]
Bring it on, you beaky sonsabitches!
[ If Ragna can just properly defend and get it up for Scott (heh), he can deal a wicked spike. One can only hope as the bird delivers a wicked serve.
WAY TOO FAST— ]
!!!
[ It's going for the far right corner, in bounds! And Ragna has to quite literally take a dive into the sand with an outstretched hand to tap it up into the air. ]
Scott!!