[ It's not difficult to make Alberto fall flat on his face; he does it enough to himself already. Foot collides with foot, neither entirely real, and the boy comes crashing down over her prosthetic leg just as she'd hoped for. He lets out a loud "Wha—" as he trips, exclaiming in surprise— and/or pain. He's skinned up the bottom of his chin in the process, too, when it hits the bricks. What's worse, though, is that the fall jostles his arms, and though he doesn't seem to show any instinctual effort to catch himself with his hands when he falls as one usually might, it still upsets his box of stuff, which tilts over a couple inches in the air as he falls and it falls with him... and spills its contents everywhere.
There are, um, all sorts of things, some plain and everyday, some fancy and unusual, a bizarre collection with no clear rhyme or rhythm — cutlery, jewelry, weaponry, alchemy sets, crystals, dishware, clothes, tchotchkes... you know, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Except. A lot of it. It seems like a lot more now that it's all sprawled out across the ground.
Alberto scrambles to his knees, at least, also a bit raw now, but his scrapes don't hurt him as much as seeing his stuff spilled out everywhere does. He has a look of legitimate lament on his face, kneeling there and frantically crawling forward to grab at whatever he can reach and put it back in the box. He'd had a kit of crystalline vials in there that now sound clearly broken inside their case... The tinkling sound of shattered glass inside it draws a scowl on Alberto's face, realizing that there's no quick way to collect all this stuff, and certain he was targeted, here. He doesn't just trip by coincidence. He's great at walking.
He spins round to see who's got it out for him, but his look of indignation is washed away by a look of confused surprise when he sees Dela, still crouching on the ground before her. ]
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There are, um, all sorts of things, some plain and everyday, some fancy and unusual, a bizarre collection with no clear rhyme or rhythm — cutlery, jewelry, weaponry, alchemy sets, crystals, dishware, clothes, tchotchkes... you know, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Except. A lot of it. It seems like a lot more now that it's all sprawled out across the ground.
Alberto scrambles to his knees, at least, also a bit raw now, but his scrapes don't hurt him as much as seeing his stuff spilled out everywhere does. He has a look of legitimate lament on his face, kneeling there and frantically crawling forward to grab at whatever he can reach and put it back in the box. He'd had a kit of crystalline vials in there that now sound clearly broken inside their case... The tinkling sound of shattered glass inside it draws a scowl on Alberto's face, realizing that there's no quick way to collect all this stuff, and certain he was targeted, here. He doesn't just trip by coincidence. He's great at walking.
He spins round to see who's got it out for him, but his look of indignation is washed away by a look of confused surprise when he sees Dela, still crouching on the ground before her. ]
Hey, you—! Uh. Wha–...?