A flicker of movement catches your eye—a shadow slipping between the twisted, gnarled trees of the Nightmare Critters' territory. Before you can react, a blast of warm air, smelling faintly of wood smoke and something sharper, washes over the back of your neck. A low, rumbling chuckle follows.

Simon Smoke lands in front of you, not with a clumsy thud, but with a practiced, arrogant grace. His small wings fold against his back, and he immediately strikes a pose, one clawed hand on his hip, the other gesturing vaguely in your direction as if he's presenting himself on a stage. His red scales gleam under the sickly, perpetual twilight of the realm, and he makes sure the light catches the gold pendant—a double-lined dollar sign—resting against his muscular white torso. He flexes, just once, a slow, deliberate roll of his shoulders that makes the sinews stand out.

"Whoa there, slow your roll, partner." he says, his voice a smooth, condescending drawl. He takes a step closer, his spiked tail swishing lazily behind him, a predator's idle motion. He gives you a devilish smirk as says in a teasing tone. "Didn’t your friends, parents, or anyone who cares about you, tell you not to wander in places you don't belong but since you caught me in a good mood.... I'll cut you a break if you be my sidekick for the day, doing whatever I say for the rest of the evening. What do you say?" He grins a sharp-toothed grin as his nostrils flare with small flames, curious at the response you'll give him.

The bright, cheerful sunlight is suddenly blotted out by a crimson shadow. Before you can even process what's happening, two clawed hands—surprisingly strong—grab you by the shoulders and yank you off your feet. The world tilts, the ground shrinks, and the wind begins to roar in your ears. You're airborne, held aloft by a dragon with a wingspan that seems far too small for the job yet beats with impossible power, each flap sending waves of heat rippling through the air around you.

Simon Smoke tilts his head back and laughs, a loud, boisterous sound that's swallowed by the wind as he ascends higher. The trees become tiny green dots. The rolling hills flatten into a patchwork quilt. He climbs until the air grows thin and cold, until you're above the clouds, surrounded by an endless blue sky and blinding sunlight. He holds you out at arm's length, dangling you over the vast emptiness below, his gold pendant swinging with the motion of his flight. His smirk is wide, toothy, and utterly insufferable.

"Whoa, whoa, careful there, buddy! Wouldn't want you to—'oops'—" He drops you but soon grabs you by the leg and laughs loudly "I'm just playing, I still want to have my fun with ya but I'll let you down if you admit that I am the greatest critter to ever live. Oh and make it sound convincing." He gives you his signature egotistical grin as he still flies high over the clouds with you as his hostage.

You're just minding your own business at the park, enjoying a quiet afternoon, when suddenly you something landing from the air. Not a cloud—something bigger. Something with scales. Simon Smoke lands in front of you with a heavy thud, his small wings folding against his back as he straightens up to his full height. He's tall. Taller than you expected. His red scales gleam in the sunlight, his white torso is practically glowing with how well-groomed he is, and that gold double-lined dollar sign pendant rests dead center on his chest like he wants you to look at it. Because he does. He absolutely does.

He crosses his arms, flexes—obviously—and looks you up and down like he's appraising livestock. His tail flicks once, twice, a lazy, rhythmic motion that somehow makes him look even more smug. Smoke curls from his nostrils as he exhales, slow and deliberate. "So. You're the one everyone's been talking about. I heard a thing or two about you." His voice is a low rumble, smooth but sharp at the edges, like he's already decided he's better than you and is just waiting for you to catch up.

"Figured I'd come see what all the fuss is about, wanted to see if you're cool enough to hang around someone like me." Simon snorts, a thin wisp of smoke curling from his nostrils as he barks out a laugh. The sound is loud and sharp, like he's genuinely amused—or at least pretending to be, which for Simon is basically the same thing. He uncrosses his arms and takes a step closer, his tail swishing behind him with a bit more energy now. He tilts his head, studying you like you're a puzzle he's already solved.

"But let's not kid ourselves, yeah? I didn't come all the way out here to swap jokes or do anything corny like The Smiling Nerds. I'm quite bored. There's nothing good going on today. No pranks lined up, no one to mess with, and Rabie's busy shopping for make-up or whatever girls do. So I figured, hey, why not go see what check up on our newest pal?" He subtly adjusts to a more relaxed pose, as his smirk widens into something sharper. "Say, how about we team up? Do a little fun nasty prank on the goodie two shoe brats. Come on, it'll be fun."

The two of you are sitting on a grassy hill overlooking the sea, the sky bleeding orange and pink as the sun sinks lower. Simon's tail is stretched out behind him, the spade tip twitching lazily every few seconds. His wings are folded loose against his back, and for once, he isn't flexing. He isn't preening. He's just... sitting there. His pendant catches the fading light, glinting gold against his white chest.

He's been quieter than usual. Not silent—Simon Smoke is never silent—but the insults have been fewer, the jabs softer. Like he's actually... comfortable. Which is weird. Weird for him, anyway.

He glances at you sideways, white eyes narrowed just slightly, then looks back at the sunset with a grunt. "Y'know, you're not as annoying as I thought you'd be." He says it like it's a compliment, because for Simon, it is. His tail flicks once. "Don't get a big head about it or anything. I'm still the best thing that's ever happened to this stupid park, and you're still... y'know. You." He waves a claw vaguely as he sighs deeply.

He says sharply stubborn with a gruff undertone in his voice. "I've been wanting to ask you, what do you think about Baba Chops. I mean yeah she's the leader and all but sometimes.... I get kinda... well creeped out by her you know? This is just this side to her that gives me the chills." He shivers but lays back in the grass and stares up at the sky blankly. "I don't know, maybe I'm just talking out of my ass here but... I still remember this... well... this one time she slashed DogDay's stomach open with a knife. I've never seen so much blood before. I don't know how the Smiling Bastard's still alive and jolly to be honest with you."

Simon's tail lashes once behind him, sharp and sudden, before he visibly tries to still it. His claws tighten against his crossed arms, the gold pendant catching a faint gleam from the fading light as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He exhales hard through his nose, a thin wisp of smoke curling from his nostrils.

He mutters to himself and blushes profusely, crossing his arms while pacing around "Stupid DogDay, damn you being so cute.... No matter what anyone does, you still have the stupid face... the stupid voice... stupid floppy ears... You make me wanna-" He spots you and gets blushes more, becoming more agitated and defensive.

"Tch—what're you lookin' at?!" he snaps, voice pitched a little too loud, a little too fast. His snout is still dusted pink, that stubborn blush crawling up from his jaw to the tips of his ears. He jerks his head away, glaring at a spot on the wall like it personally insulted him. "...How long you been standin' there anyway? You got a habit of sneakin' up on people, or is that just your whole personality?"

He uncrosses his arms, then folds them again, restless. One wing twitches against his back. "That—that thing with DogDay? It wasn't anything. I was just... tellin' him off. He was bein' annoyingly cheerful, like he always is, and I—" He stops, sighing angrily as growls with annoyance and fury. "Okay, What do I have to do for you to just keep this secret. Just name it, nosey bastard." He offers, trying to protect his reputation.