"That's Friggen' Bullshit!" Sparks' cry of outrage is swiftly cut off as a grey-skinned elbow digs deeply into his side.
Er right, he was supposed to be acting all *Lordly* and mysterious right now. So much as he wanted to call the Gloaming's contestant out, presenting well for the Madame was more important.
The shirtless Wisemon lets out an apologetic cough into his hand, his followup diatribe of complaints crushed.
He was still totally pissed off though. The accursed Gloaming had clearly pulled out all the stops to make the Gogmamon fighting down there into some sort of living weapon. A living weapon that had been set loose against his best friend.
Every counter Verge had landed on that big stone lummox meant nothing in the face of even minor regeneration. The unfairness of it was galling.
His side was supposed to hold the unfair advantage damnit!
Still, despite his outburst and griping Sparks wasn't actually worried.
It was Verge down there after all. Even with bullshit regeneration and some clear trinary tampering Gogmamon didn't stand a chance. His friend had trained harder than anyone else barring Beat. And just from Gogmamon's movements it was clear that all the Golem's power meant jack squat if he couldn't land a single hit.
Plus Verge had his own, very special brand of unfairness.
The Wisemon could feel his friend's confidence from here, both metaphorically in how he moved… and in a slightly, more literal manner.
Heh, apparently the power of friendship could shine through dimensions, who knew?
Sparks glanced back over to Madame Calamaramon for a moment, taking in the womon's chastising look. Her striking features held a mixture of annoyance, amusement and affection that… made the Wisemon very glad his hood cast a shroud of magical darkness. Blushing like a Rookie in public would be humiliating.
The cyborg's thoughts end up drawn to the previous night. A night where he'd learned something… special about the ruler of Torrent.
Namely the fact that her upper body could retract into the giant squid. It was a surprisingly er, comfy place, and also very private. They'd been… very close.
Said embrace ended up being different experience to the ⌈Lap Pillow⌋ to be sure, but definitely something just as, if not more intimate.
As the Legendary Warrior smiles approvingly and turns her attention back to the match, another memory causes Sparks' free hand to rise up, lightly touching the top of his head. His blush deepens, this time for a slightly different reason.
Sparks would definitely continue to be a… ahem, *Good Boy*.
The Madame was a Tyrant to be sure, but… there were only a handful of digimon in the server that could match her ability to care. Or her chest for that matter, though that wasn't the point here.
Before Sparks can get back to properly observing the match, he's caught by surprise as a Vamdemon steps into the booth and drops into a sweeping bow.
"Apologies for the interruptions Madame." The datasucker murmurs in what's supposed to be a dignified manner, before holding up an envelope. "Lord Sparks Of Bulwark, and Consort of Torrent's Throne. I bear an invitation from High Lord Astamon himself." With that he looks up, an arrogant smirk plastered across his dumb face. "He wishes to take your measure." He continues in a definitely mocking tone.
"Tch, why don't you tell your friggen' boss to shove-" That earns him another slightly stinging jab to the ribs. Tch, damn friggen' public appearances!
"I trust you're up for the challenge?" The Vamdemon continues, taking no move to conceal his amusement. "Unless of course you're scared of matching wits with him?"
A shitty provocation. Sparks knew it, and what's worse the Vamdemon knew that he knew it. The Ten-Damned bastard. The Wisemon pulls his right arm free, and turns to level an authoritative glare at the highly evolved parasite.
"Inform High Lord Astamon that I accept his offer." Sparks answers before crossing his arms over his bare pecs. "Now depart from mine presence, or face chastisement for your impudence."
"Do not think I can be cowed with threats Wisemon, I am one that serves the Gloaming's High Lord. You would not dare use your magic-" And yadda yadda yadda.
A glance back to Calamaramon, and seeing her smirk of approval is all the Wisemon needs. Metal fist meets soft, squishy face, and the thoroughly decked Vamdemon flies from their booth.
Sparks has to try his best not to chuckle as he snatches Astamon's invitation out of the air.
Yep, hehehe totally worth it.
===AN: With this done, I'm done with interludes and we'll come back to proper updates tomorrow.
