Doll
"Hey, doll face," Keith said, grinning as he slid into the seat next to her.
The international rule was not to make fun of Kate. There was something about her, that when a teasing comment was sent her way, she would bounce back a glare that could freeze a star going supernova. Team Dim Sun would freeze in their cackling. Friends and team mates would clear their throats and nervously look away. She truly was a force to be reckoned with. Most followed the rule but Keith, ah, warm and loving, can't take the hint that she's mad Keith, the boy who could recite the number of loops it would take to catch a certain species of pokémon with several different styler levels, would continue to joke and smile.
"They didn't say doll face in the fifties," she muttered.
"That's where you're from?" he asked lightly. "It's pretty cool that we both decided to be creative. Everyone else came from, like, the sixties and stuff, but nobody came from the twenties or the fifties like we are! I have to say, it's all pretty cool. I'm out of my uniform and in a tux, which, we all know makes me look dashing. And you, a wig, a white dress, no bra and makeup! Why, Miss Kate, I do believe you're all dolled up."
She groaned. "Dear Mew, Keith, please don't tell me you're about to spend the entire night making doll puns."
"You know me like country knows Dolly Parton," he beamed, running his fingers over the plain, white tablecloth. "Well, Marilyn Monroe, that is who you're dressing as, isn't it?" She nodded, and he continued. "Well, Marilyn, if you aren't too busy, I'd like to take you out on the dance floor. The music is swinging and, if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure this song about diamonds is by you? Correct me if I'm wrong, you always do."
"I don't dance," she snorted. "Keith, do I really seem like the dancing type?"
"You seem like the type that could learn," he argued, twisting childishly in his chair. "And you also seem like the type who would get really annoyed if I sat here all night telling you about the first time I captured a bidoff, and you know how I like to talk. See, I was walking down to the beach and I saw it. He did this weird little charge at me, but I was brave and I didn't run. Some other people may tell you that I ran and climbed a tree or something, but I didn't. I was brave and I stood my ground. Golly gee, Katie Kitten, why are you slamming your head on the table? That can't be healthy. So about that bidoff-"
"All night?" she muttered, lifting her head to raise an eyebrow.
"All night, baby doll," he said, smiling widely and holding out his hand.
She groaned and let him lead her out to the dance floor, muttering about how a diamond was a much better friend than he was. Despite her debate that she wasn't the dancing type, it wasn't exactly a challenge to swing her around the floor and lead her through slow dance steps, a few turns and a single dip where her could have sworn she flashed him a cheeky smile. They continued through the motions until he dare to whisper in her ear, "you know, this kind of thing often leads to baby making."
She gave him a good slap to his already reddening cheeks, getting the whole room to stop and stare, and quickly turned on her heel to storm out.
Keith, alone and embarrassed, struggled for a moment to think of what to say that could ease the tension and at the same time make him sound like he was okay with being slapped. What he said, in the end, did the latter but not the former, for it made him sound like a jackass and Kate could hear and attack a jackass from a sixteen mile radius. For what he said was this: "I guess even Barbie's got a temper."
He barely had time to yelp before the blue styler energy began its loop.