[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/CllpOun.png[/img][/center]

[color=6ecff6]"Oh, all dogs of war, shed a tear for poor, fair Dallas. So many miles away from home, stuffed like a sardine into this coffin...all to fight Spacenoids more interested in headbutting each other. I should have stayed on the street corner. At least everyone wanted me [i]there[/i]."[/color]

The lonely pilot in the custom GM Juggler, despite his impassioned cries for companionship, nonetheless backed off hastily from the Zudah he'd been pursuing at the sight of its trajectory. He could take the older suit with relative ease, and perhaps even handle the Gouf, but the maneuvering necessary would be taxing on the cobbled-together Newtype-use Jim. Even the greatest juggler knew how many balls he could keep in the air, and in case the two turned their backs on Arnaud's teachings and decided to target the Juggler, the resulting slugfest wouldn't be to his benefit.

Dallas Matthieu Renatus Grenier wanted to make love, not war.

He had just reached a relatively safe distance from the two Zeon pilots when he glimpsed the familiar dull viridian of a Zaku approaching him from his eight o'clock. [i]Fast.[/i] The Juggler was heavier than the average GM, but Dallas' reflexes were such that it could turn to face the approaching mobile suit and spread its arms magnanimously.

[color=6ecff6]"Ah! [i]Quoi de beau[/i], my dear Zaku pilot? Are you here to shoot the shit with me, or foolish enough to [i]shoot shit[/i] at me?"[/color]

The Zaku's heat hawk, drawn in retaliation, was clear as crystal. The Juggler seemed to sigh slightly, shoulders slumping - before the two Ball Type Ks attached to its shoulders released and flew towards the Zaku. Each pod weaved towards the Zaku; one released a grappling hook and ensnared the suit by the wrist, while the other ducked under the swing of the heat hawk with a speed that belied the Ball's shoddy reputation. On its second pass, the Type K dodged the hawk again and snagged its grappling hook on the inside of the Zaku's elbow, forcing its arm back. With both limbs restrained, four jury-rigged beam rifles began firing, turning one of the mobile suit's hands to slag and blowing off the forearm that gripped the heat hawk. With their hold on the enemy now lost, both Balls drew back and began firing into the helpless Zaku's cockpit. It was over in seconds. Dallas sighed softly and began maneuvering the Balls back to La Hire, leaving the Zaku's corpse to meander in space. So much time and effort had been poured into training with the Juggler that even [i]he[/i] had grown excited to see what it could do - like the thrill he'd imagined from cuckolding a rich man in his own home.

But, just as stealing away from a gold-leafed penthouse didn't quite match the thrill of a hot, messy tryst in the backseat of the car...

This war was just disappointing.

Maybe he could sing to pass the time.

[color=6ecff6][i]Ahem.

"Allons! Enfants de laaaaaaaa Patrie! Le jour de gloire est arrivé!"[/i][/color]