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Alva was not an arrogant man (boy), of which he was quick toassure anyone who dared to ask or, even, potentially insinuate with so much as a single raised eyebrow of a look. No, no, Alva was just a man (boy) who understood his talents and capacity for improvement better than those around him. Almost everyone around him, apparently. He was, as they said, “ahead of his time”, a genius who had yet to be recognized, a true painter of his time – although he really hoped it didn't take getting buried six feet underground for people to suddenly have the epiphany that showed them the splendor of his works. No, he'd like that Nobel Prize alive, please and thank you very much. There was no shame in taking pride in ones accomplishments or ability to adapt to any and all situations that they may find themselves in, so he held no shame at all in making his accomplishments known for all the world to hear – not did he hold an ounce of shame in correcting the oh-so blatant mistakes made by those who had simply... missed his obvious charm, or those aforementioned accomplishments.[break][break]

He knew models (in a world that idolized them, it'd be hard not to), and he knew his reflection. Why, he knew his reflection better than he knew his multiplication tables or his alphabet or the French language, the last of those being something he was certainly proficient in, and so there should have been no doubts about it when he claimed that his outward image was at least on par with those cranked out through Alstromeria's ever-helpful funding. And yet, when he had told this to the head hanchos just the other day after slipping into their hands an absolutely stunning portfolio of his personal work (photographed, unfortunately, with his PokeGear, because genius did not equal a large pool of friends – or any at all, in his case – with which to choose a photographer from), they had all but laughed in his face, and if that hadn't been enough to confirm that they would not be getting back to him in the following days, that aforementioned PokeGear and its loudly ringing silence truly did seal the deal. But he knew better than they did. What would strangers, after all, know of his modeling prowess? What did it matter that they were professionals and he was but a lowly teenager attempting to crawl his way up through the ranks of coordination? Which, he would note, would be made significantly easier with a bit of modeling slapped onto his already frighteningly impressive resume.[break][break]

So the obvious answer to this problem was to break into their building and steal the spotlight at the next shoot. Obviously.[break][break]

Sneaking in wasn't even the difficult part, truthfully. His skills in stealth had developed faster than his skills in Pokemon coordination – which was to say, they had developed at all – and slipping in through the back undetected was a breeze. Perhaps it was the added bonus of his hair and clothing's outrageous palettes leading no right minded human being to think of him, too, as being another human being, but rather yet another bizarre looking prop or piece of apparel tossed haphazardly in with the rest; too many times had he been passed while hiding in a clothing rack only to hear the passerby hiss something along the lines of “Who would wear that garish thing?” under their breath. They didn't know the half of it.[break][break]

Alva's plan, as most of them did, was going perfectly smoothly, so much that he stopped preparing for failure, as he usually did, just in time for failure to find him... as it always did. Most of the staff had cleared out long enough for him to abandon his clothing rack covers, but just as he'd assumed himself home free down an empty corridor, the worst possible sight entered into his field of vision: Another human being. (Important note: significantly less fashionable than he.) Well – shoot. But this was still salvageable. Probably.[break][break]

“I'm not trespassing, you're trespassing!”[break][break]

Nailed it.

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okay, so i haven't written as alva in forever, and whooooo boy did i not realize how much i missed it. he's just so. punchable. and dumb. i love it. i'm so sorry, freya.

[attr="class","optag"]Freya Nickolos