Jean Pierre Polnareff; Jealous.

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The lights hung against the rides flashed bright colors, reds, blues, yellows and purples. Along beside you walked a life-long friend, who you had met in Primary School. His hair was gelled tall and platinum colored, his eyes a warm blue-grey. He wore a long, army-green overcoat with a tight, muscle fit black turtleneck underneath. A maroon-red scarf hung loosely around his neck, complimenting his coat. The air was crisp and chilly, a bit odd weather for a carnival; but you preferred the nice fall breeze over the hot and sticky summer sun.

He rambled on about something you weren't paying attention about. No one could blame you though, anyone who knew Polnareff knew he never stopped talking; and half of the time whatever he said didn't make sense anyway.

All of a sudden, you noticed, he stopped in his tracks. Eyes wide and mouth agape.  He pointed with his index finger.

"(Y/n)! Look, Ring-toss! I can win you a prize!." He shouted, sounding quite overjoyed.

"Oh, Jean, you don't have to." You bit your lip.

"But I wannaaaa~," He whined. "Let me win a prize for my favorite girl?."

You rolled your eyes. "Every girl in a ten mile radius is your favorite girl."

He stuck his tongue out and blew raspberries at you. With no other words being said, he walked off to the stand, and you eventually followed behind.

A cute jingle played from the speakers' of the stand. The Concessionaire had crappy clown-makeup plastered across his face. "Howdy, three tickets for five tosses!." He greeted. Polnareff bit his lip and dipped his fingers into his coat.

"We can use my tickets since its for me?." You suggested and, he shook his head, holding his free hand out, using the expression, 'zip it'. He pulled out his wad of tickets and forked three over to the juggalo.

"Thank ya', kindly!," He responded, and then handed Polnareff five, thick plastic rings. "Take your time, I'll be here all day." The man smiled.

A look of concentration fell upon his face, and it took whatever you had in you not to laugh. He looked funny, brows furrowed with the tip of his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth, eyes glued onto the pegs in which he had to get the rings on.

He took the first shot and missed. The Concessionaire sucked his teeth, "Oh! That's too bad, buddy! Still got four tries."

"I got it." Polnareff grumbled, tossing another one, missed. And another, missed. The fourth try, the ring landed onto one of the pegs. He also hit a peg with his last ring, too.

"Alright, pal, for two hits you can get one of the smaller prizes here," He motioned over to small, hand-sized plushes. "Or, for another three tickets, you can get five more rings and get a bigger prize, like these." At the top of the stand hung medium-sized to large stuffed animals.

Polnareff glanced over at you.

"A small one is fine, Jean." You folded your arms and hugged your coat against you.

"Nah, I can do it!."

He handed the man three more tickets, replaced by five extra rings. Polnareff seemed to hit a pot of luck, as he hit the pegs with four of his rings but missed with the last. He 'whooped' in satisfaction and pumped his fists in the air in victory!

You clapped your hands, applauding him. "Alright Mister, take your pick." He gestured to the plushes to the top.

"Which would you like?." Polnareff smiled.

"Um," You looked at them all. "That fox is cute." You pointed to a medium-sized, crimson red and white fox.

"We'll take the fox, please!."

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