"I weesh everyone moved like supermodels. Een fact, I weesh everyone carried themselves with ze mental and feesical grace zat job required."
I... cool? Great wish, Jon. Really following a set theme, aren't we?
Jon silenced the obnoxious voice in the back of his head, and instead looked up from the bench he was on to admire the new flow of traffic. The spots where he'd been bumped into or trod upon were just sore enough that he was going to enjoy this. He instinctively crossed his legs in a slightly animated fashion, sitting with his back upright but ever-so-slightly arched.
It was quite a surreal sight.
the long promenade in front of him was only deserving of that fancy name now. Everyone moving along it, whether they be drunk or sober, male of female, was doing so with a practiced finesse to their movement. Every footfall part of a graceful strut. Every pair of hips swinging with great control. There was no more of the uncoordinated throng, all slowly bustling against itself. Now, traffic moved neatly, and with a relaxed pace. It was still loose and playful, yes, but clearly because everyone involved was choosing to allow it to be so. Jon knew just from the way people gesticulated, the way they held themselves, that every one of them could snap to attention and control their movement perfectly should the need arise.
How did he know that?
Well, simple. He was just as good. Legs crossed, one arm supporting him artfully, his other hand came up to neatly adjust his glasses, doing so with the heel of his hand in a way that was uncharacteristic to him. But it felt right. He knew just how it made him look. Refined, but relaxed. Sitting by, but not lost. He felt...
"Magnefeeque~." He chuckled. His mind felt odd. Clearer. Less burdened with worry about where he was going and what he was doing. Over all he felt... composed. Calm. Professional. That would be the mental change, he supposed. He rose up and cast his gaze down the waterfront. He was all too interested in clubbing... but first he needed something to drink. A coffee. Just to keep his energy up.
No, coffee was the wrong word. Café! Yes!
He glided neatly into the crowd, and with practiced footfall, set off.
