Who: Esme and Tyson What: A family reunion When: May 6, late Where: the Midway Warnings: Language because it's Tyson
The first time her scent hit him Tyson thought he was having a mental breakdown. They were in between shows so he and the other combatants were out on the midway, posturing and putting on the usual show to entertain the people idly wandering around, trying to take in everything at once. Dumb sheep, all of them.
The second time he caught her scent it was stronger and much harder to ignore. He pushed away his fellow combatant and turned around to figure out where it was coming from. The only logical explanation was that some suicidal idiot had stolen something from him and they would pay for it with their life. After he had torn off every single finger.
Tyson barreled through the crowd with an expression that was livid enough to make those that noticed him jump out of the way, passing by tent after tent without really noticing where he was going. All he could think of was that stupid little pony thing being tainted by someone else's stink and it made him see red.
When it kept getting stronger he realized that it couldn't be the stuffed animal, not really, because over the years her scent had faded too much - and he grew weary. What kind of mind tricks were those creatures here capable of? Who had he ticked off enough that they were playing such a messed up game with him? He didn't have time to dwell on that because something small and red came flying at him, knocking the air right out of his chest even as he wrapped his arms protectively around his little sister, his mouth wide open in utter disbelief. It took a few moments of soundless jaw movements before he had gathered his wits enough to speak. "Esme?"
Not the brightest thing to say, it was obviously her, but he felt that he was allowed to be a little dumb, considering the circumstances.