Not Quite A Story

Cryptid Hunting Without The Cryptid

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"Hey, what's up guys, 'is ya boy, Jai the Guy, back with another banger, and today we're going hunting for cryptids - part 2!"

Huffing impatiently, Alya glared in almost awe as this imbecile of a genius took his sweet time decoding this mystery that's been literally haunting her since last friday.

She found it rather odd, last meet up he genuinely wanted to help her when she pled for a cryptid geek such as himself to, uh, 'dunno, exorcise the ghoul, try to communicate via ouiji board - and now he's throwing gang signs at a neck-slung, makeshift camera.

Her snakely gaze narrowed, 'not on my porch.'

"Cryptid. Singular." Alya corrected, knocking lightly at the front door of her house impatiently to get his attention. Instantly, his attention jerks, focusing less on merchandise advertising he was gonna say 'real quick' and more at the issue at hand - moreso what her hand was referring to.

Apparently, she was a favourite amongst his 'ghosties,' who claim to really dig her wanting to die attitude - said to really suit the series. Maybe this is some corporate sting for his new shirt line? Jerk. Well, presumably.

"Ya', right, cryptid," he corrects himself, flashing a finger gun of acknowledgment. Continuing on, a smirk tugs at his lips as he kneels down on one foot, a glint in his sternly shut eyes as he dramatically whisks his hand out before resting it under his face - an air microphone? - sure.

"Ya' see, news flash is that this unregistered ghoul has decided to squat menacingly in Macaron's house - remember her? - and cause some ruckus in only one, I repeat, one of the rooms. Ooooooo weird unexplained coincidences!"

He breaks his three-quarterly aged news reporter character by preforming some jazz hands to the camera - glancing over at Alya and hides a snort behind his now retired jazz hands as she proves to stick to her 'wanting to die' character.

"Basically, we're the police and we're gonna knock the ghostly socks off the bad boys." With that and an aggravated fist to palm motion (another assumed gang sign if she hadn't of known what it meant), Jai kicks the door open and marches inward.

Alya follows the probably self proclaimed chief of the investigation, yet she couldn't help but scoff at the irony that the 'police' just broke-and-entered her house.

"Advertising police brutality" she dissed condescending, mentioning the other plot hole in his statement she wanted to dig at. "Bad branding dude."

At that mention, he flopped, desperately thinking of how to flip this scenario like a politician would. They both knew that he'd been exposed as a police fondling fraud. That is, of course, considering he doesn't edit this out - which knowing him, he definitely will.

"Uh, scratch that, we're gonnaa..." Gears whirling. "Write this guy up and let him off with a warning!" He flips a nervous thumbs up at Alya, which is then proceeded by a sly gleam before putting a hand up from her, leaning into the camera's non-existent ear

"...But if he resists arrest," the fist to palm motion receives a sequel, "the knock man will be in town..will provide his speciality..." And in all unmanlyhood, he bellows, "Allyyy~ which one sounds cooler!"

By this time, Alya had already overtaken him climbing the last of the stairs and, with her attention focused on the room ahead, she absentmindedly responds, "I dunno, rock, paper, scissors it."

And at that all glimmer fell from his eyes, instead replaced with a look of utter and hilarious dismay. Shakily, his gaze focuses from the unseen future to down at his hands. He could only mutter, "how do you rock paper scissors against sentences."