The Dates

Throughout the dim room, the surprised sighs and gasps of the audience resonated in unison with the completion of the trick. How did Hugh pull that off? No psychic powers involved! How in the world did he manage to pull that trick off? There were murmurs between friends, whispers between pairs, and the confused mumblings of Pokemon who had gone to the show solo and as such had no one with which to share the experience. That was okay though. It was enough to be a part of the audience at large when such feats were performed. That Kadabra flashed another one of his charismatic smiles over his shoulder (wooing a few ladies in the process) before dramatically spinning around in such a way as to let his cape twirl in the air. He certainly had a flair for theatrics; the stage was his home, and in it he was most comfortable. His incredible intelligence lent itself to setting up elaborate tricks to deceive the audience into believing beautiful lies. It was his craft! Alongside Dee and Nie, Hugh could pull off anything. And besides, it’s not as if he had psychic powers... the Dusk stone ground into the cement and placed all along the walls of the King’s Rock Casino had no real bearings on what Hugh could do. The Psychic-type suppressor was in place so that the casino couldn’t be cheated out of its money. How unfair would that be for everyone if it weren’t so?

It made the mind tricks that Hugh did all the more impressive. Sometimes, he would call up a Psychic-type from the audience and get them to do their best in predicting cards or some random number. They would, of course, fail - and be momentarily embarrassed. That was the nature of it, and that was how Hugh had to set it up. If he didn’t let the audience understand that one of them wasn’t able to breach the barrier, then they would automatically have doubts about how genuine he was being. After all, it’s easy to say, “I am not using any psychic powers,” but how many would believe you without an unknowing audience member being flabbergasted when he cannot use his own powers? You become a lot more astonishing when you can still, apparently, read minds!

...but of course, that was all a trick, too. It was only the illusion of being able to read minds, but it seemed incredible when no one could figure out the secret, when everyone would get lost in the magic of the moment. That was what Hugh lived for.

It was kind of a silly topic, anyway. Genuineness? In stage performances? Everything was never what it seemed, there was more to be seen no matter what was being pulled! The unimportant was important; anything that was seemingly important was probably a diversion. Though, it wasn’t as if the audience knew this or cared. They came to be amazed and to be entertained, and this is just what Hugh was good at.

…

And with that trick over, and the audience nearly sated, Hugh wanted to pull off his finale for the afternoon. He needed a member from the audience though. Someone smaller than he, someone he could fit into his box and who wouldn’t need to do anything complex...

---

With the flick of his wand, Hugh signalled Nie, his Pidove assistant, to spotlight a guest. It landed on a dark Kecleon seated in between a prim Persian and a fidgety Jumpluff. He was kind of slouched against the red velvet, and Hugh wasn’t sure if the fellow was awake at all at first. A nudge from the Persian to the side and the Kecleon spasmed straight up, looking mildly alarmed. Or at least, that’s what it seemed from this distance. Hugh had pretty good eyes, but the Pokemon on which Nie had rested the spotlight was a few rows back. This wouldn’t do for his trick! No, not at all.

“Come on up, won’t you? I need your help for this next amazing, wonderful, fantastic feat, sir! If you would be so kind!” Hugh called out. Lots of ladies fell for his stage persona and stage voice, and even some of the gents. He figured that the Kecleon would be delighted, as all the other participants always were, once he got on stage. There was a pause though.

The Kecleon shifted around uncomfortably, and the Persian took this as a chance to whisper something to his squirming friend. Hugh imagined they were friends anyway. Maybe more? The Persian’s body language said as much, even if the other’s didn’t. The pause lasted too long.

“Sir?” Hugh asked, keeping his fantastic composure, “won’t you help me out with my feat?” As long as the silence didn’t last too long, Hugh knew how to turn it all around. He was good at that, as he was good at many things involving psychology and trickery. Conversation, directed conversation, was certainly a strong point of his.

The Kecleon fumbled with the arms of the seat a little, listening to the Persian. He then looked straight up at Hugh from his seat and spoke clearly, “I’m not a sir.”

Hugh was absolutely dumbstruck. He blinked his big, confused eyes a couple of times, smacking his lips once in an attempt to recapture lost words. How could he have made such a novice mistake? It had to be that Dee was out and had been ill for the past couple of weeks... oh, and Dee would find his mistake so terrible! To accidentally confuse a gender! It shook him up quite badly, and he was nearly unable to regain himself. Perhaps if he hadn’t been as experienced in working these situations out, he’d have frozen up and the show would’ve been a bust. Not now, not this time!

“Of course you aren’t, but you looked nearly asleep! I had to test if you were awake enough to perform somehow, didn’t I?” he asked, giving a theatric wink in her direction. “Now what’s your name, Miss? And won’t you please join me for this next trick?”

What a color for a girl Kecleon though... Hugh wasn’t quite sure if his slip up was due to the lack of Dee’s presence, or that he only expected girls of this species to come in yellow. Regardless...

He watched her stumble past the other audience members. Was she drunk, or... or just really tired? Either way, this was looking to be a pretty poor selection on Nie’s part. Hugh made a note to later speak to his fine feathered friend about this choice in temporary stage helper. She’d forgotten or didn’t care enough to give up her name before coming to the stage. Scanning the audience, Hugh caught briefly the discomfort everyone started to display with Nie’s choice. Fantastic. The pointed looks, the whispers in the Kecleon’s direction... It was going to require even more work to keep the audience in good cheer all the way through the end of the trick.

---

PK awkwardly made her way past bulky Pokemon in their comically small or wrongly shaped seats, aiming to reach the lit stage where whatever stupid trick was going to happen. She was in the middle of a long daydream about woulda and coulda beens when some idiot shined the brightest light of her flipping life right into her eyes. It was all a confused mess, and then the idiot magician had called her a guy. Way to go. To tell the truth, she didn’t even care that much about the blunder, but sleeping and eating poorly for over two weeks had made her even more irritable than she could ever remember being in months. She wanted nothing less than to climb up onto that stage and be in the center of everyone’s attention. Again. She’d had enough of that crap for months now, and it was finally wearing her down. It had been fine enough to manage with a partner at her side, all the stupid side glances and comments easily being shrugged or laughed off. But, she’d lost that. She’d lost her partner with which she could joke, and in the process, seemed to have lost the ability to joke. She’d not laughed in weeks. Smiles had become a rare commodity, as well.

She felt the eyes, caught wind of the whisperings. Were they about her? Of course they were. She couldn’t catch a break; was it always going to be like this? She didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to be a part of this... this stupid trick. She didn’t even want to be in the casino, she didn’t even want to watch this show... She was downright exhausted and sleep was absolutely hard to come by! It couldn’t be helped if she’d found the plush seat in the dark room just a tad bit too comfortable, damnit! It didn’t earn her all these weird looks, she was so, so tired: tired of this haughty Kadabra standing on his stage like a throne, tired of this sleepy, claustrophobic room, and tired of Twigs trying to slobber all over her during the show. Well, maybe that last one wasn’t entirely accurate. Whatever he’d been saying to her got mixed in with her daydreams and had turned into some strange scenario where he had her pinned down in the beautifully redone, rebuilt Merchant Hut, and was doing embarrassing things in front of imaginary perturbed customers. She wanted to try to store this in her mental banks to evaluate later, but already her dream was slipping out of her grasp like water out of a hole-ridden pail. Such was the nature of dreams, she supposed. Still, it seemed important...

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, PK reached the little steps onto the stage. Her tail drooped and her eyes looked and felt dull, but she trudged her way up next to the Kadabra and his tiny box. Was she supposed to go into that or something? Shortly she’d find out. Maybe it won’t be too involving, she hoped. Maybe I can get back to my sleep soon-- er, back to my chair soon, outta here soon. God, I’m so tired! What am I even thinking?!

If there was any indication of how down-to-the-bones exhausted she was, the flashy Kadabra either didn’t notice or care. And why should he? His concern was the stage. Always! Always so single-minded! And it’s not like he could read her mind, hah! No, he was handicapped for his species, and had somehow turned that into a profitable venture. PK had to respect that a little, in the deepest parts of her brain. The parts that weren’t pissed off over being on stage unexpectedly.

“Ladies and gentlemon, please do not take your eyes off of this lovely girl! She is going to disappear before your very eyes!” Hugh announced. Really? Was that some sort of Kecleon cue she was supposed to follow or something? Because she wasn’t going to do it and if this stupid cape he was waving in front of her was a clue then-

And just like that, a twirl of the cape later--(and of what use was the box? some other part of the trick? she never found out, and besides that, it quickly left her mind)-- PK found herself having fallen into a dark space, the brief light from the stage disappearing along with the slightly audible click of the trapdoor mechanic falling back into place, caught in some unknown’s arms. She was about to scream, surely would have, but was silenced by a fluffy paw tapping her head. “Shh! Don’t let them hear you!”

---

PK had it in her mind to let them hear her anyway, but decided against it. Let them have their dumb tricks. The audience was roaring with applause at however he’d concluded the trick anyway, so no one would have heard her regardless. She... she did fall through a trapdoor, right? It was too dark to tell. Why would Hugh pick someone to help him out if they would just find out his secrets? Couldn’t the chosen Pokemon just rat Hugh out? PK wondered these questions (rather half-heartedly, admittedly, for she didn’t really care for magic shows to begin with) before realizing that the unknown who had been carrying her was on the move. What the hell.

If there was one thing that was absolutely frightening no matter her life circumstances, it was running into things in the dark. And here someone was, carrying her through a whole room full of somethings in the dark. Maybe she’d bump her head, maybe she’d get a concussion, what did it matter? Not much, apparently! Maybe this guy, girl, whatever, would trip and drop her and she’d fall into some pit. She couldn’t see anything to know otherwise! Wait. No, it was a guy, definitely a guy. Fluffy? Like on the poster? Oh.. wait, there’d been a Lopunny on the poster! But... it was a girl on the poster, it seemed. This voice had been a guy. Was she mistaken? It sounded familiar though. But how could it be? Ahh, it wasn’t that farfetched. She had lived out in the Bay for most of her life, it was possible...

Eh. But what did it matter, anyway? PK mostly cared about where they ended up. Flying through the darkness was terrifying--okay, well, it wasn’t flying so much as... taking giant strides. It wasn’t on purpose, but she found herself clinging to the--shirt?--of whatever this fluffy guy was wearing. If she was sleepy before, she was definitely alert now. She might have squeaked and gasped a bit in her utter panic, though she really couldn’t be sure with the way her heart thumping completely filled her ears. Blood rushing, that’s all she could hear. She only guessed that she had accidentally made her terror known when the unknown fellow asked if she was all right somewhere along the lines. Snorting her (untrue) assent, they continued up, down, across, wherever the hell they were going.

And then she felt his weight shift and a door opened (it seems the fellow had kicked it open, judging from the sudden jolt she experienced), blinding her momentarily with the onslaught of crazy lightworks that only the casino was known for. Immediately she had to squint. What a stupid amount of lights, she thought. Slowly, her eyes adjusted, and she was lowered down to the ground by her ride. She huddled over the floor, doing her best to shade her eyes with her tiny claws. Whatever feelings she’d gone through in the past few minutes were all replaced by a sense of vertigo and then that of nausea.

That same voice of the Pokemon who’d bounded over here, well, it seemed to recognize her. “PK? You’re...”

“What?” she asked. No time for games. She didn’t even turn around, the dizziness was filling her gut, threatening to pull her to the ground.

Perhaps her tone had set him off, or maybe she was just out of it and unable to really converse today and this stranger had sensed it, but he didn’t respond. She turned slightly to catch his gaze, but instead found an uneasy gape. It figured.

“You’re Dee?” she asked. “From the poster?”

“Erm... sort of. I mean, no, but yes, I’m filling in for her, and--” clearly this stranger felt awkward about this arrangement for whatever reason, fumbling on his words. He gave a sort of sheepish half grin in the middle of what he was saying. Something was shining in those green eyes that he didn’t dare mention. This was kind of infuriating. Or, well, it was until nausea won out again. PK had no energy to be annoyed. Though...

“Wait a sec, are you- you’re from the village then?” PK asked, not really needing to hear the answer. The answer was yes. A Lopunny... masculine build... green eyes... familiar voice, apparently recognized her... Ah! Aha!

“You’re... you’re a Rogue, aren’t you? I’ve seen you around.” PK looked up. The dainty vest looked out of place on his build, there was no question about it. He looked back. His silence was all the affirmation she needed. “You don’t make a very convincing girl up close,” she concluded.

He snorted a laugh, and then added, “No, but it gets the job done. And we get paid, y’know.” We? Definitely a team. Not one of her own, had to be a Rogue for sure.

Having completed his duty to deliver one (1) Kecleon to safety, the magician’s assistant swiveled about foot and scurried back into the darkness, off to perform more specific (and, in PK’s book, no doubt inane) deeds for Hugh.

Slowly the sense of falling and needing to vomit passed. Now, where was she, exactly? She wasn’t too familiar with the casino, a place that had been built shortly after she left. Her sister’s doings, of course. The big metal door from which she’d come closed resolutely and then it dawned on her that she’d accidentally lost track of her date by having participated in the little show. It wasn’t a big deal, and no one seemed to notice or care that she was there, but the casino felt way too cramped and crowded. It was hard to think, the buzzing of the lights, the occasional ding of the strange box machines (followed by the clatter of Poke that she’d recognize anywhere), the constant chatter all around her of excited and annoyed and happy Pokemon... it all combined into a very invasive sort of cacophony echoing around her head. The drowsiness set back in, and she was once again slumped over, lost in muddled thoughts, the location this time being in the middle of the brightly lit inner chamber of the casino instead of the atmospheric darkness of the theater’s gallery.

---

Already halfway to the destined spot by the time Hugh announced his trick, Twigs slunk along the aisle and up to the theater’s exit, out into the noisy casino in a matter of moments. His prize, his girl, was no doubt going to be waiting for him by the time he reached the location he was assured she’d end up at--and how excited would she be? She got chosen for the trick, and all because of him. Surely would brighten up their date a little bit. It had to, he knew how much attention his girl craved and needed. If only he’d found her sooner...

Prowling along the extravagantly decorated hallways and past Pokemon who were either about to make it big or, the more likely of the two, lose all their earnings, Twigs pondered how Lady Fate had treated him. Years he’d gone looking for this girl, his girl, and she’d been right in Tao Village all along... for how long, exactly? After all, he had visited her parents more than once, he had visited them both many times and they hadn’t a clue where she was. So far as he could tell, they weren’t lying. The dad’s telltale Tail Twitch of Anger (as PK had often called it) appeared at the mention of his missing daughter’s name. Twigs thought that he was both embarrassed by the girl’s less-than-noble actions and by the fact that she was nowhere to be found. What was his name again? Aguav? Agava? Something like that. Didn’t he have arrangements still set up with that temperamental Kecleon? The answer was yes. Ah... that didn’t matter... all that mattered was getting to his girl.

And he saw her, there, slumped over, sitting in the middle of the carpet. Huh, odd. Her eyes were half lids, but that didn’t mean much for a Kecleon. Perhaps she was lost in thought? That had to be it. Yes, definitely. That she ignored the rowdy crowd of Piplup and Prinpup, singing some terrible version of a popular ditty around the Bay... well, it was rather uncharacteristic of her. His girl was always the first to tell a Pokemon what was for, and if they should shut their filthy traps or not. Yes, his! He’d reclaimed her! He’d reclaimed a Miss Payapa Kiwi, and he would keep it this way. True, she may have seemed a bit reluctant to follow through with going on the date at first, but she eventually made time. And it was going to be wonderful. Maybe after enough convincing, he could get her to leave that rotting village and stay in his villa for the rest of her days. Yes. He would like that very much, he would.

Finally, coming to a halt right beside his darling, Twigs spoke. “Dearest, why don’t we continue on to our meal? You must be famished after such a show.”

Either she didn’t hear him due to the noise of the place, or she was ignoring him. The latter option simply could not be true, so he lowered his head to meet her sitting form and spoke again. “Dear? Wouldn’t you like some fish? I know I would.”

At first, her eyes remained dull. After a moment, though, they shined with recognition and she seemed to be lifted of whatever fugue that had captured her mind during the show. Her mouth hung partially open, the crook twitching slightly, but she seemed all there. She was regarding him wildly. Was she perhaps upset...? No, that was foolish. There had been nothing to be upset over. It was a little unnerving to watch, but it would likely fade as her appetite was satisfied. After all, who wasn’t a little antsy while hungry? Twigs couldn’t think of anyone. Yes, her mood would clear with a full belly. That was what he decided.

Slowly, she rose. Maybe the most disturbing part was her color. It had been black when he reunited with his lost love, but now... even in these bright, warm lights, she looked... dusty, and ill. The dull sheen of abandoned cobwebs. Cobwebs...

It was okay, though; he loved her inner beauty, it didn’t matter if she seemed older than the aeons right here and now in this bustling money pit. He loved the way she worked... the way she regarded others... her calculating, crafty mind. That was what he wanted. And it was his, again. All he had to do? It was simple. She really seemed to care about the village, for whatever reason. He wouldn’t try or pretend to understand it. So, he helped from his own funds. Well... he understood how much trouble she went through planning and replanning and arranging and building. All it did was take her time away from him... and this was not forgivable. He arranged for her to accept a lump sum of money; it was the only way that she would be pried from her village.

Now that he’d gotten her away from that dump once, it would be successively easier every other time. That’s how it worked, that’s really how it worked. Get your foot in, don’t leave. She’d fight it, that was absolutely a given. That was her nature. But, he would guide and coax her into what was best, into staying at his villa, into leaving that land of serfs. What more could she possibly want? Money wasn’t an object, it never was. They could go anywhere, do anything! He, majestic gentlecat, and she, fiery and fierce temptress, together, as it ought to be. Hadn’t he dreamed of this day every moment she’d been missing from his sights? Why, yes. He had.

Though there was an itching in his mind, a little signal that something wasn’t quite right and it might never be, that perhaps his girl had been broken, he chose to ignore it. For, you see, our prissy feline here had become overwhelmed and lost in his desire to reclaim a past vision... so much so that, in fact, he let himself overlook her ill coloration. Perhaps-- no, no, almost assuredly, that monocled mushroom that with whom you and I are so familiar (and whose loss we still mourn, do not forget) would have understood what these colors meant, for he had seen our little Kecleon in every color under the sun and knew all too well what each signified.

Alas, Twigs was no Shroomsworth. Though, I suppose you will see that for yourself in due time.

---

PK attempted to stand, knees wobbly, head foggy. She noted that Twigs had found her quickly, of course. Wait. How? How’d he know where she’d end up?

She stood, turned to face the cat at her side. If she possessed any more energy, an ounce more even, she might have started yelling at him. Fatigue won out though, as it had for the past week. She knew how uneasy this made Malt; he knew her to be... to put it bluntly, loud and opinionated. About everything. And lately, she just couldn’t scrounge up the drive to really care about anything besides plans for her village. It was hers... She had to make it bigger, better, that was the only option! And here, Twigs had provided some assistance. It might have been a tad bit too hasty to accept the date proposal, but...

Okay. Yeah. She’d agreed to it wholly to frustrate Anana. And it had worked! With Anana’s strained smile, PK knew she’d hit the worst spot. Was it worth it? Well, at the very least, it’d gotten her sister out of her face and onto sneaky ventures elsewhere. That was fine, but the price she had to pay was, uh. Well, it was having to deal with Twigs.

It was a bit too complicated to explain in a single statement or sentiment. Her history with him led to a number of emotions, the first one being... fear. Not of him, no, she didn’t often fear any one individual, but the fear of losing control of the village. Her village!

Grim and reluctant, she looked at Twigs. She couldn’t easily back out now. She couldn’t run away like before. She was now chained to this guy. He now knew where she lived, and she had duties to perform. No running away. And if he happened to want to donate some in order to motivate her to step away from the village... was that really so bad? She could deal with a clingy guy for a while, right? Especially if she was going to have enough funds to do, well, everything she’d ever wanted to do with the place. Their reconstruction effort would just be the first of many additions to the village if she milked this right.

…

Ah...

Didn’t that make her like Anana...?

...

“Payapa dear, are you quite all right? Let’s go get food! Payapa? Hello?” Twigs asked. He couldn’t keep the slight panic out of his voice. No one else would have picked up on it, but she didn’t fail to.

“Don’t call me that.” Enough of that. She’d clock him, donation or not, if he didn’t stop using her born name. He reeled back slightly and gave her a wounded look. She ignored his pitiful display, temper beginning to flair... and then let it drop. “Food? What are we getting?”

Very apparently relieved, he exhaled a sigh. “I figured we might get a bite of fish from the sushi place.” Expecting an immediate delighted response, he became uneasy at her silence. “You are, ah, you still eat that, right?” It was clear he had forgotten to even consider that she might have changed her diet up over the years. It was also clear that he really did not want to change his own.

“Sure. Don’t care. Let’s go,” she said. PK waited for Twigs to find his way toward the exit. Navigation was not her strong point, and she was already disoriented from her journey through the dark mystery room. He took the hint, and they were off.

---

Down the windowless hallways, through the windowless rooms, and a twisty flight of stairs later, she finally spotted the entrance through which they’d arrived. Good. She was too out of it to even keep track of their course, but it didn’t matter. Hopefully she wouldn’t be returning to the casino anytime soon. She looked back briefly and up at the oversized Shellder -- it was hard to trust a place that would love to gobble your money and toss you in the dust.

(Was this how others felt about her shop?)

After the cold, artificial light of the interior, the sunlight--and its warmth--were both needed and wanted. It was nice to breathe in the salty spray of the ocean again. She had really forgotten how nice the beach was!

(Was it even a wonder that the bay was always the more profitable of the two...?)

She could even forget her worries out here on the crowded beach. Since she was away from her work, maybe she could try her best to enjoy her time out. Would it really kill her that much to give an effort toward doing so, anyway? No, it wouldn’t. So, she’d try.

Maybe Twigs wasn’t so bad. Maybe she could forget there had been better.

She walked the familiar beach path alongside him, looking down at her feet as they neared the biggest pier. It felt good; warmth was good, especially after the recent... well, warmth was good, that was that. The sand giving way for her toes felt good, too. Sand! She really hadn’t been here in a while! Maybe she could even walk along the shore, maybe she could swipe some sea foam up with her tail. And Twigs? He didn’t try to make conversation, already convinced he’d won her over.

---

Nibble was busily preparing the freshly caught food. Today? Goldeen, Finneon, Krabby, Squirtle, and some Octillery for good measure. The latter two were rare catches! Business would be nice today, there were always customers who sought to try the rarer species. It was sometimes messy business, and sometimes Nibble had to call Anana in to negotiate with families of lost children. That was the way of things, and it was his life. It was too good of a business not to keep running, so run it he would. Someone would fill his place if he left it, besides. So why not? Wanted to eat meat? Wanted to do it in a place where you wouldn’t be held accountable for the lives lost? Well, Nibble’s sushi shack was for you!

It didn’t fit a lot of tastes (nor many wallets), but the Bay was known for attracting Pokemon with money to spare. That was good for Nibble. It was just fine. It seemed foreign and exotic. And it was! Nibble wasn’t from the bay, but he had picked up the strange dialect early on. Sometimes, he knew his phrasing was awkward and off. The funny glances and the blank pauses before responses always told him he’d mixed up the placement of a word or misused it entirely. He might not ever totally understand the slang on this coast, but it was all right. He would keep on keeping on, and he would make the best sushi he could.

A crack as his strong horns broke open another Krabby shell, emptying the contents of its innards onto a platter. Perfect!

The restaurant’s door jingled, and Nibble stood up from behind the counter to make sure it was the correct customer. So it was! The ascot-clad Persian who’d rented the place for an hour and a half. But.. he didn’t seem to have a party with him. It was only a single... another Kecleon? Nibble double checked just to make sure it wasn’t Anana. The lizard’s poor, dim scales should have said all, but it never hurt to avoid making a nasty mistake.

Nibble spoke up as soon as Twigs neared. “What do you like now?” he asked. Naturally, he also flashed his best smile. It might have been endearing, but any of his actual smiles brought about a smile from his horns, as well. On a Mawile, smiles like that only ended up unnerving most of his customers.

Not today! It looked like neither of them were fazed. That was good. (It’s not like he had to worry about losing business, for the sum Nibble received to close the shop for the Persian’s party was more than the chef usually made in a week. Still, it was nice to not disturb others.)

“What are your catches today?” Twigs asked. He took a seat at the bar and crossed his arms. The Kecleon slowly followed suit, head drooping and tail dragging. Twigs closed his eyes and immersed himself in the task of giving himself a miniature bath as he waited on Nibble’s response, starting with his paws. Nibble did find this a bit rude, but...

“Well, today is good day. Very good day! Octillery. You like. Maybe you want some of Squirtle, too?” Nibble was fine giving his good catches to this wealthy couple. He wouldn’t be out any money for it, so why not? Maybe it’d become an extravagant habit on the Persian’s behalf and this summer Nibble would be able to afford a nicer place. What a dream!

Twigs paused mid-groom, opened a single eye (he could not afford to open the second, apparently, for he might lose his interest in self-bathing), and nodded. Then, the bath was resumed. Well, that was that. Now what about the other?

Nibble turned to his left and locked eyes with the Kecleon. “And you?”

“I’m not really in the mood for rubbery stuff. What else do you have?” she asked. Nibble was briefly surprised to hear the voice of a flustered, tired young lady instead of that of a defeated old man. Interesting.

“I have Krabby, Keikouo, Tosakinto.”

She perked up a little and then looked confused. Nibble realized his mistake only after he’d spoken, ah...

“Excuse me,” he said, “ I mean to say Krab, Finneon, and... er, orange fish with white. Horn.” A little bit of flush worked its way into his face. How embarrassing, he didn’t usually mess up species names like that! He could usually at least recall them almost immediately after any blunders! He pantomimed the horn and made a fluttery motion with his arms... ugh!

Twigs kept grooming himself, unamused. The pressure Nibble felt from the fussy cat... it was almost unbearable, but then he looked back to the other, the lady in the old shell. She was about to laugh! It was enough for poor Nibble, too much. He ran into the back room, hoping to compose himself as well as fetch the forgotten fish in question.

---

PK surprised herself with a smile. She found foreigners delightful. Maybe it was something about how cheerful they usually tended to be, or maybe it was something about the way they talked. Either way, growing up in this hub had let her learn to appreciate these Pokemon. Foreign accents reminded her of growing up, and as such, they tickled her fancy.

Her smile lost its edge when she realized she hadn’t heard any sort of real accent in weeks.

And to further remove the edge of her glee, Twigs didn’t seem to share in her delight at all. Now he was grooming his tail. Realizing she was quite alone once more, she slumped back into her seat. This should have been a nice meal to enjoy, but the afternoon wasn’t panning out so well. She felt utterly alone in this tiny wooden shack. Twigs could have been gone, and what? It wouldn’t have mattered. The bustling outside was muted; there were only the slick sounds of barbed tongue combing fur and the slapping of fish as Nibble got to his quarry.

And eventually he returned to the front room, carrying a dead Goldeen in his freakish second maw. Of course! A Goldeen! Truth be told, she should have and could have figured out what he meant, but was too delighted by his accent to relay her guess. Oh well.

“See! This, Tosakinto!” he said, pointing up to the fish. “Very tasty too, if you like. Goldy for you?”

This was too much. Something about the way he said “goldy” with such a serious and worried express got to her funny bone, and she started to laugh. She leaned forward over the counter, trying to catch her breath, and failing to do so for a few beats. When she was finally ready to answer him, she looked up and caught his trouble gaze. She felt a little bad, for he must have thought she was laughing at him. That just wasn’t true! Well, not exactly. Well, okay, maybe she was laughing at him, but it wasn’t out of malice. Accents really were charming!

To try and reassure the thoroughly reddened chef, she gave a broad smile. She couldn’t have scowled even if she’d wanted to right now, for that exhilarating laughter had put some sort of spring in her cheeks, keeping her grin in place. It must have worked a little, because his tense posture eased a little and he looked back at her a little bashfully. That was all right. It was better than him feeling terrible for the rest of the day. She kept it in her mind to send a gift his way when she got home.

Meanwhile, Twigs had just finished putting all of his hairs in their proper place. His keen eyes were resting on Nibble. Unfortunately, this penetrating... look (or, you could call it a glare, really, and not be any less accurate) caused Nibble to clamp his strange head-jaw together out of some instinctive reaction. Nibble gratingly realized a moment too soon what he’d done, and the fish’s face and tail fell to the wooden floor with a splat not an instant later.

PK was dumbfounded. Twigs had a way of sucking the life out of this Mawile, and she simply did not understand why he had to appear so stern. If there was something notable that had changed, it was his attitude toward others. Had he been like that as a Meowth? She didn’t think so. She couldn’t remember it being so bad. Or maybe it was a fluke? Surely... or maybe he was having a bad day? Stomach ache?

It might have occurred to PK that she was making excuses for his poor behavior toward the likable chef, but she shoved that somewhere back into her subconscious. Maybe if she hadn’t been overworked, blinded by the money, and overcome with the strange obligation to see through whatever it was that he wanted of her, well then maybe she might have told him off right there. Maybe she might have spoken up and let him know what a little sleazeball she thought he really was. Maybe she would have told Nibble it was fine, and burst into another round of laughter.

But, she didn’t. She sat, mouth agape, still at loss for words. Poor guy! she thought. Poor, poor guy!

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