Apparently, accidentally picking a pink blob of giggly-goodness over something - [i]anything[/i] else wasn't Sigur's only problem of the day; no sooner had he managed to voice his displeasure and ask for a possible change in starter choices, when a bunch of strangers got on his case as one united unit of nosiness and 'better-than-thou' attitude.

After the professor had given him a no-go on switching - figured, what's with all the 'your first Pokémon is special and your best friend!' crap you always heard about on TV - the first one to butt-in and offer some unwanted commentary was some sort of funky neo-emo clad in all black. The guy commented on how he shouldn't have taken the process lightly and would now need to 'man up' and live with the consequences, before he proceeded to bribe his Pokémon with a berry or something. Oh. Great. His day started with a guy clad in tight leather gear telling him to man up. Next, the pink homo would start giving him fashion lessons, he bet.

A few seconds passed and as if on cue, the guy did turn his attention to him. Sigur almost [i]froze[/i] in sheer disbelief. Fuck, he'd need to stop making these predictions, or drop this Pokémon shit and get a job as a fortune teller. He could use the Igglypuff as a crystal ball with some slight modifications.

"You know, I have to agree with him," the guy said, apparently meaning the leather-ass. Figured. Birds of a feather and all. "Besides, I see nothing wrong with the Pokémon you chose. There was a saying I heard somewhere, I believe it was... real men wear pink? Although, if that is the case, I must be the realest man here, yes? Ohhohohoho!"

Well, at least it wasn't fashion advice. Instead it was...[I] uh.[/I]

He got nothing.

"Not planning to wear this guy," Sigur commented dryly as he raised a leg and pointed at the Pokémon still latched onto it like a kid on a candy bar. "If I can... help it, at least," he continued, once again attempting in vain to peel off the offending blob. If they got into giving nicknames, he'd call this one a leg warmer, because so far that seemed like something it had passion for.

And then the guy commented on his earrings out of the blue. [i]Oh shit, fashion advice incoming anyway.[/i] He called it. Totally freaking called it.

"I have a pair just like them back home. Are those real diamonds? Mine are! But the rest of your... ensemble...?" 

The guy sneered, and Sigur cocked an eyebrow. Was the guy in all [i]pink[/i] really doing this? Really?

"It does not match. I suggest a makeover of both appearance and attitude, mon ami. I would be more than happy to give you one later, hm?” 

Sigur was just about to comment on how he was not going to let the guy touch him with a tenfoot pole, when the other unexpectantly stepped closer and [i]fucking smooched him right on the goddamn face.[/i] And probably left a lipstick stain. 

Wait, he, wait...[i] what?[/i]

The teen flinched, unable to process what in the devil had just happened. It wasn't until the mad giggling of his so-called 'starter' snapped him back from whatever heights he'd climbed to escape the disgusting wet feeling on his skin, that he realized where the hell he was again. And immediately, he wished he hadn't. He was probably red in the face. And not because of any of that blushy-blushy tee-hee bullshit, either.

"Iggly!" His Pokémon exclaimed, happy. Apparently it was into this shit. 

He, however, was not.

"Hey, hey, [i]hey, [/i]Earth to Unicorn Man, get off that rainbow and grab a fucking map," Sigur began, annoyed as he began wiping his cheek on his sleeve. "We aren't in Kalos anymore, Dorothy, so if you fancy kissing some guys, try leather-face over there," he nodded towards Joshua, although he wasn't aware of his name at the time. "and get your stereotypical ass outta the rest of our way. Some of us came here to get shit done, not slobber on stranger's faces and make sure our home region gets as bad a reputation as it humanly can."

He ran a hand through his hair to brush back strands from his face towards the back and cocked his head, condescension clear in every syllable like he'd talked to someone of lower intelligence: "[i]Capiche,[/i] mon ami?"