Love Lost, Chapter 14b: Rotations, concluded.
#28 of Love Lost
Love Lost, Chapter 14b: Rotations, concluded.
Joe stood overwhelmed by the grandeur of Manse DeWell, not that Sulmepride was anything shabby. The capital city of Ocimene, it was not as large as Hexyloxy or Tartaroyal, but it was clearly a city designed to impress visiting dignitaries with a taste for opulence and to serve those who move and shake. He experienced for the first time what it is like to use a revolving door and slowly stepped into an expansive lobby, looking up and around at its vaulted ceilings, painted with scenes between each crossing of supports. "If I may," Joe heard spoken after he stopped walking forward. Maximilian took his bag. "If you will follow me," he grumbled as he led Joe toward the elevators. Inside, Maximilian pressed three different buttons and turned a unique-looking key.
"The floor on which you will stay is restricted from public access. Furthermore, this elevator will not allow you to leave the secured floors. This is for your own safety, of course; Mr. Well would not permit a pro tempore ward to wander a city alone. Should you need to leave for a reason I cannot possibly imagine, you will be escorted by a valet."
"I guess that makes sense," Joe's hand moved toward the pokeball clip on his belt and the one ball it contained, "but, I'm pretty sure I'm safe with Burner with me."
"If you felt that way, you wouldn't be here testing that theory, would you?"
Point taken. "He must be a pretty tough valet, then."
Maximilian Syfax adjusted his tie with emphasis. "Don't let my appearance mislead you."
The lift car slowed and stopped. Maximilian led the way. "There are four suites on this floor, yours is Room 904, at your right. For the time being I am in 901, and am available to you at your whimsy. The floor above us is currently vacant and inaccessible. Above that is Mr. Well's suite and auxiliary office. Ivana is staying on that floor as well, suite 909. You are free to visit them, although unless you decide to call off this challenge, I advise against bothering them. If you no longer need my services, I will take my leave of you."
Joe shook his head, and both began separate ways. Joe stopped and called out, "Wait, one question. Why did he make you my valet? I thought you were his personal assistant. Doesn't he have other employees?"
"Being put at your beck is my punishment. I was responsible for Ivana's care in a time of personal distress, and as you know, I failed to keep her on her best behavior."
Inside his suite, Joe met with a continuation of the grandeur he was introduced to in the lobby. In fact, his suite offered more floor space than his own home. It was decorated with live plants, fantastic paintings, and even eclectic amenities such as a grand piano and a fine telescope beside a window. A wrapped basket filled with glass-bottled drinks and fresh fruit included a note of welcome. Joe tossed his bag beside the bed and released Burner. He too was struck dumb by what he saw; the living space's spacious flow made him feel an evolution smaller again. Joe carried his school work to a mahogany desk and started on mathematics while Burner explored an entertainment center, flipping through a catalog of television programs, audio selections, and video games. The latter-most category caught his eye.
After a few hours, Joe completed most of the non-word-problems and decided to wash up for bed. The bath had a dedicated entertainment system of its own, and Joe selected classical music to make his experience complete the cliche. Burner quit his game, having been defeated by the one he tried, and started flipping through channels. Although anything untoward was restricted, a naturalists' channel featured a rather candid documentary about wild pokemon.
When Joe exited the bath wearing a graciously provided and properly-sized robe, he did not see Burner, and called out to him twice to no response. However, the clicking of Burner's talons against tile flooring located him for Joe, who turned and saw only a brief flash of mostly red feathers slip through the bath's doorway. Its door closed immediately behind him. Joe rapped upon it and advised Burner that if he had needed to use the toilet, he could have come in rather than suffer in wait.
The blaziken's first word was distorted by his bird-like nature. "Kraaat's not, there isn't, wasn't any... hurry, just... don't worry, I'm fine."
Joe did not quite buy that, but left Burner in peace to dress himself in nightclothes and turn on the entertainment system. Being the top of the hour, a new program was beginning, showing one part of a long-running documentary series, "The Poke-man," chronicling an adventurer who lives in the wild among untrained pokemon. Although edited and narrated after the fact, much of its footage was captured by the man himself using small video cameras, often hidden, since a film crew would disrupt his studies.
An awkward angle showed the star apparently being stalked by something yellow and black, but soon their interaction proved to be tentatively peaceful. A voice-over began, "The female mawile that I recorded investigating my campsite two days ago ultimately chose to reveal herself. Although she is letting an inquisitive nature guide her, she is still a wild pokemon, of course, and I have to be very careful. The biggest mistake would be to lose respect for those horns. Their primary roles are to digest large meals and to protect the rest of the body, and they truly do have a mind of their own. I've seen well-trained and experienced rangers get seriously injured because they misread a mawile's body language. Here, she is approaching me slowly, with her body in front but twisted at an angle so her horns can lunge forward instantly. The mistake people will make here is to ignore the horns and try to talk to the rest, and the worst thing to do is to try to touch the body. That will either make it run away or attack defensively." The video paused. "There, I almost made a mistake, reaching out with my left hand first, closer to her body than her horns; if I hadn't caught myself I might have wound up with a stump." The video resumed. "Now, I slowly reach out to her horns with my right arm, opposite from her body. This shows her that I'm willing to trust her horns, which she knows are her most dangerous part, and I'm not taking this opportunity to threaten her body. Incidentally, wobbuffet expresses a similar psychology. Now, she has come a little closer, and her horns are opening: she's seeing if I trust her greater teeth and jaws. Still moving slowly, I prove that I do by very gently stroking their lips and once she opens them wider, their tongue. People see this and think I'm crazy, and I warn them to never try this. Not because it's dangerous, but because those people are the kind who would become nervous, hesitate, and make the mawile second-guess their encounter, and that's when things get bitten off."
A deep, loud call pierced the bathroom door.
"Burner!" Joe shouted, "are you okay in there?"
Some time passed before he heard a response. "Yes! Okay. I'm fine," he made another strange noise. "I was, uh, surprised; I turned on the water guns in the tub by mistake."
"The jets feel good, though, don't they?"
"Yes. I'll try them out for a little while, okay?"
"Have fun!" Joe turned back to the television.
The program now showed the man with his mawile climbed up in his lap as he sat cross-legged on the forest floor. His left hand was across her back and resting on her shoulder. His other was fully inside her horns' moist grip. "Of course, you can't see this, but her horns' tongue is gently feeling around my fingers here. It's a very tactile organ, as the horns' only way to feel things, and it never forgets a flavor. This moment is the goal of our interaction. She invited me to trust her horns with myself and now she is trusting me with herself, since by having my hand in her horns' jaws they cannot easily defend her body which I now hold. Mawile do not readily take to companionship, and often the first time this trust ritual stops at simply allowing physical contact. That she let herself relax in my arms is a rare and special thing, and I felt honored that this creature would extend her friendship to me, but there is another side to it. Mawile is the deceiver pokemon. It means that she is struggling to survive on her own. Perhaps she is a poor fighter; perhaps she is challenged by other, territorial pokemon; or maybe there is a scarcity of food in this area. While I've been doing well for myself, a Steel-type has specialized dietary needs that must not go unfulfilled..."
Burner turned on a ventilation fan to extract the plume of steam he was about to produce, as his feathers stood on end and his body temperature increased greatly. When he emerged from the bath, he took a remote control from Joe's loose grip and turned off the television. He glanced back as Joe re-positioned himself.
"I didn't mean to wake you," Burner muttered.
"Nah, I just rested my eyes a little. But, bed sounds like a good idea. The last of those questions can wait."
Burner looked around the room. "Shall I put myself in my ball, Joe?"
"Do you want to?"
Burner did not respond.
"Well, that couch over there might be long enough for you. Or, you could sleep on the bed, too. I remember you wanted to do that, but Dad was worried about your claws."
The blaziken's taut cheek shifted into something of a proud smirk as he glanced at his right arm's talons. "These have become a little more... sophisticated with my last evolution. I haven't damaged any of Alice's fabrics, yet."
"Alright, get in here. I guess you'll have to go kinda diagonally to fit, though." They settled in and noticed that the suite lighting dimmed itself automatically. "I guess Dad was right. Far from home, sleeping beside my pokemon, getting psyched for a battle tomorrow, bathing with scented oils in a fancy tub; I am on my pokemon journey."
"The fancy tub isn't part of a journey."
Joe turned to face Burner beside him. "You never said much about what your day-to-day activities were like when you traveled with Percy."
"There were no hot tubs, or psyching, or sleeping beside. We all were in-ball except when we were camped outside. Then he'd pick whichever one of us had a type or move strong against local wild nocturnal pokemon to play night watchman. Usually Frankie."
"Well, if we go out for a summer, we'll try to do better than that."
Burner turned to face Joe. "Do you want to go on a journey now?"
"I don't want to go on a journey. But, Dad was right, you are pokemon, and Grace was right, you need to fight to become strong, and Dad was right, I'm responsible for your well-being. So, if that means we hit the road, we'll hit the road. It can't hurt, can it?"
"I guess not. But we don't have to travel to fight. The gym is always there, and it has been good enough, I guess."
"That's true. I don't know. Traveling might be fun; all the other kids are doing it."
Burner gripped Joe's hand. "I'm having fun traveling with you already, Joe."
"Alright, then. We'll see what happens."
Burner made a happy bird noise and leaned over to lick Joe's cheek before reaching behind his pillows with his left arm to raise it up a little more. That helped keep his horns from poking into anything. Joe closed his eyes and relaxed. It was strange not feeling Grace worm her way into his mind, but Burner's body was no less warm.
"Damn it!" Grace cursed as she awoke alone in Joe's bed. Five, four, three, two, one, and the bedroom door flew open.
"Grace!" James shouted in as he stood in the doorway.
"I didn't mean to!" She lowered her volume significantly. "I always connect with him at least a little when we sleep. He's not here, so all I've got is a faint, messy, lingering trace." She clutched their covers and drew them into a small wad against her front antenna. "I just didn't like the feeling of being alone. I was asleep, I didn't realize it until... then."
James turned sideways and spoke to the door. "The first night in I-don't-know-how-long that the ghost hasn't bothered me, and my sleep is ruined because I have a gardevoir trying to pull me into her nightmares."
Grace shifted her legs beneath Joe's covers. "I'll sleep in my ball if you want me to."
"No, just try to leave me alone, okay?"
Grace nodded with a faint hum of acknowledgment and whispered a more-humble apology. James pulled the door shut as he left.
"Maybe if I wallpapered the rooms with aluminum foil," he pondered, "and where is that ghost, anyway?" James experimentally waved his hand through the air a few times, feeling around for any cold regions. He asked the nothingness if she was there a few times before giving up and visiting his kitchen. He opened his refrigerator to retrieve some milk and heard a dull noise when he shut its door. Setting the milk aside momentarily, he stood on his toes and glanced across clutter scattered about the machine's top. A small box was resting at an angle between its chassis and the wall over their narrow offset. He strained to reach for it and carried it to his table. Sitting there with a half-glass of milk to his left and a small box to his right, he stared that the latter until he sipped his glass down to a quarter full. He brushed away a layer of dust, and regretted doing so as its collection of atomized kitchen grease allowed it to become a nasty tendril of fuzz that stuck to his fingers, and then to the table, and finally to a napkin. He used his fingernails to work up a tab of sealing tape and to gently peel it away. Lifting the lid released ancient air, a scent so very faint yet instantly remembered--sauvignon blanc--both for what it was and why it was there. He withdrew his old collar sash from the box, letting gravity unfold it from its tightly-packed state. Three badges affixed thereupon took turns reflecting moonlight from the kitchen window as though they were eagerly awaiting their moment to shine. He let it lie limp in his right hand while he took another sip from his glass. "Maybe next summer?" Next summer; nexts were in limited supply now. He remembered his medication, and that only the ghost knew where she hid it between doses. Missing one could not hurt, since he would miss them all if he had none, if Mr. Well did not choose to graciously supply them. "Keep you afloat," James quoted from his previous face-to-face with Simon. Treading water, indeed. If that medication kept him stable, perhaps his days were numbered in terms of how many doses he missed. He glanced at his stove's clock; it read nearly two in the morning. "Another one bites the dust," he muttered as he stood, finished his milk, and rinsed out its glass. A motion in the moonlight caught his eye. Carefully opening the backyard door to investigate, James sneaked out and sat gently in a patio chair. He kept his secrecy until an insect flew into his left nostril and he could not help but snort to eject it.
A serpentine monster's head popped out of the pool water. Its fins coiled up and shook nervously.
James spoke gently. "This isn't a place for your kind." Fiona started to swim toward the opposite end. "Wait, I meant that milotic don't belong in a residential district. Were you released, or did you wander away from your master?"
She glanced toward her master's home, and twitched an antenna in its direction.
"You can't talk to me, can you?"
She shook her head.
"That's okay. Go ahead and swim around."
James sat in silence for a few minutes as she accepted his invitation. Although its chlorine content was a mild irritant and the pool quite confining compared to the body of water her body of scales longed to explore, being able to flex her spine in every direction worked loose many cramps she suffered by spending time wallowing about on land. Finally becoming comfortable, she let herself sink and lie flat along the pool's inclined bottom. A sudden splash caused her to coil up on reflex. An indistinct form came down near her and tickled her neck. She rose to the surface, and the form gripped her to be towed up forthwith. James released her and drifted back a little.
"This pool was meant to be used by at least two. Have you ever played in the water with a human?"
Fiona grunted.
"Well, I'm going to swim in my pool. You do whatever you like."
She settled at the bottom again while James did a few laps. He started teasing her by reaching down and tickling the tip of her tail. She responded at first by jerking it away before he could, and later by swatting his arm away. Within minutes, Grace was half-awakened from a half-sleep by the sound of breaching.
Grace approached her rear window and saw nothing noteworthy beyond its glass; just a waning gibbous moon hanging above a placid pool water's surface, and almost turned away dismissing what she thought she heard as part of a dream until a faint sensation of panic drew her attention back to the pool. James emerged near the middle of the deep end, and a familiar fish appeared beside him. Grace kept herself mostly hidden but continued to spy.
"Not even two-thirds of my record. Those cigarettes add up."
Fiona did not understand what that meant, but she could tell he was exhausted from his swim. She was tired, too.
"It's gotta be at least three by now. I'm going to sleep." James started to swim away but was pulled under as a prehensile tail gripped his leg and drew him back. With a few quick twists, Fiona looped her body into something of a raft and returned him to the surface. Spitting and snorting pool water from his mouth and nasal cavity, James intended to protest, but felt soothed as she aligned her neck along his spine and draped her fins across his chest. She grunted again, but with a more positive timbre.
The sensation he felt from her was cool, like water. Compared to the sensation he knew from the ghost--cold, like a corpse--it was a step up, and after looking up at a canopy of stars above, he did not care to return to his bed that night.
Grace laid herself down.
Joe responded to his wake-up call, which promised that breakfast would be served in exactly thirty minutes. Burner awoke too, stood, did some stretches, and re-awakened Joe, who had promptly fallen back asleep. When the exact thirty minutes elapsed exactly, a doorbell chime echoed through their suite. Burner opened the door and felt immediately like a fool for not checking the peep-hole first.
That was twice he let an articuno inside, and once after promising never to do that again. Maximilian said nothing as he pushed inside a service cart conveying a breakfast and left quickly. Joe straightened his shirt and emerged mostly dressed although his shoes were still untied. Ivana sang a strange tune. The entertainment system announced that a translation program was now active. She continued singing while pacing across the floor, seeking a position on their couch. It was not designed for her, but a reasonably comfortable stance was possible across its length with one leg folded beneath her on its cushions.
"I came to apologize," her translator began, "but I cannot apologize enough to make my wrong right. I tried taking what I wanted. I thought I could change your mind. When you did not, I got mad; because you said 'no,' because of why you said 'no.' I got angry; angry at your mate. Jealous. I wish someone loved me enough to say 'no' to someone like me. If you forgive me, I want us to be friendly together. I don't want to fight with you today."
Joe stood close beside Burner. "We are not going to back out." Burner's posture gained a centimeter.
Ivana rose from the couch and came up against Burner's chest. He stood as motionless as a granite pillar. The translator failed to respond as she tweeted something soft. He nodded. She walked to the door and stopped, letting them realize that she could not operate its knob without undue effort. Joe opened it for her. Halfway through, she paused, squawked something complicated into the room, and continued out. Joe shut the door before the translation came.
"Before our fight, make the employee escort you to shop. Buy a gift for each of yourselves, and any family you like to treat, including your fortunate lucario. My money pays."
James awoke to a bucket of cold water to the face. Actually, more than a bucket, him having rolled into the pool, and technically he was awake for a couple seconds before getting wet. The first rays of morning had pierced his eyelids, and when they opened to a brightening morning sky, he realized that he left a box on his breakfast table and that it was time to prepare breakfast. He scrambled out of the pool unmolested by Fiona's tail and re-entered his home, leaving a trail of wet footsteps behind himself. His box was where he left it. He shut it, pressed its tape back down, and replaced it atop the refrigerator. Turning around and leaning against a counter, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he noticed that his trainer's sash was lying off to the side, rather than inside the box. He reached for it, but it leapt away as though someone had pulled on an attached string.
"Oh, let me see!" Grace spouted as she caught his accessory out of the air. "Three badges? Since you seem to hate pokemon fighting, these little guys must have some good stories behind them."
James did not appreciate her snarky attitude. "Give me that." James snatched it away and stomped toward his bedroom.
Grace sensed another presence and looked behind herself. Fiona was trying at spying, and ducked away when Grace turned. A quick teleport ensured that the fish could not escape. "Hey, there. I guess you got to know James."
Fiona nodded while Grace gently established a link so she could respond. "I think he is a good human."
"I do too, although he is a little rude when he's upset."
"My human is always rude and always upset." Fiona's fins dangled lifelessly.
"I'm sorry about that. But, if he lets you come over here, I guess it's okay. Obviously James doesn't mind you using the pool, and I don't either. We'll have to do something to make sure that ghost knows it's okay."
"He doesn't let me come over here. Sam let me out of the ball. He said our human won't notice because he is busy with school and something else--I didn't understand."
James called out from the back door. "Are you two having a conversation?"
Grace confirmed.
"Tell her she can stay for breakfast. I'm making pancakes."
"That will not be any problem, Sir. We intend for our garments to fit forever. That includes tailoring, repairs, and alterations." Maximilian asserted that their benefactor would not necessarily pay for maintenance costs. "An oversize cut may be appropriate, then," advised the fashion consultant. "Our master tailor will have no difficulty predicting your future measurements."
Joe nodded, but looked again to Burner, "Well, are you happy with the look?" Burner cawed, Maximilian rolled his eyes, and the fashion consultant directed Joe to follow him to be measured and estimated.
Maximilian signed off on Burner's purchase. "He selects for you a gold chain necklace, and the best you can come up with for him is a gaudy jacket. Quite fitting: his training is so poor that you repay him with something so trivial." He became visibly nervous when Burner placed his right claw on his left shoulder.
"This chain is more expensive, but it is a novelty to us. That jacket proves something bigger."
Maximilian gestured with a flick of his fingers that he wanted Burner to remove his talons. "Whatever. At least by making your selections this little escapade will soon end and I can return to the work expected of me."
"Not yet. We still have James, Grace, and Alice to shop for. And, maybe Marianne," he added, thinking and talking to himself more than to Maximilian.
Fiona watched with great interest as Grace responded to the strange noise of a ringing telephone, and began talking to it as though somebody were now with her. Percival sought to speak with Joe, who was not responding to his trainer's device.
"He's probably busy right now," Grace said to excuse her master, "but when he does respond, let me know. I'm going to start worrying about him." The caller was more concerned with a secondary matter. "Yes, she's here. We're almost finished with breakfast. I'll bring her over when we're done." His impatience annoyed her, and gave her an idea. "It won't be more than three minutes, calm down." He hung up on her. She stuck her tongue out.
Grace returned to the table, where Fiona demonstrated a very slow and awkward competence with use of her fins to manipulate silverware and a small pitcher of syrup. She filled Fiona in on her master's orders, and regretted having to do so as she saw and felt Fiona's emotional reaction. "Maybe it'll be okay if I come along to help you explain?"
The milotic did not seem to think that her presence would matter any as she said nothing throughout the remainder of breakfast and their trip up the block.
At the Finnegan's, Percival opened the door and recalled Fiona before it was fully opened. After a quarter-hearted "thank you," Percival closed the door but Grace caught it with her mind before it was fully shut. "Hey, Poke-master P, mind if I come along? Joe and Burner went off to fight a one-v-one today, so I'm a little bored."
Percival thought for a moment, and assented against his immediate inclination. "Fine, you can come. But I'm only putting you in if I have to. Towers changes her team every time she offers a challenger match, so I might need a Psychic. And, no showing off. The last thing I want today is to earn Joe's second badge. I'll grab my stuff and we'll go."
Delilah emerged from her living room and received an after-action report on the articuno incident of two-days-prior. She did not find any chance to offer her thoughts on the matter, however, as Percival hastily headed for the door, calling out to Grace.
"Got your ball?"
"It's here," Grace gestured with her purse that it lay within.
Percival extended his arm. "Alright." He added when Grace missed a beat, "Give it to me so we can go. I've got to get there A.S.A.P. to make it in time for sign-ups."
She felt a hint of reluctance as she handed over her ball. It felt like a regression. He clicked her ball's button, adjusted something inside it, and recalled her. "Later, Ma'," he shouted as the front door swung open and shut; Delilah's, "You be careful out there," only making it halfway through.
Maximilian sat at a separate table from Joe and Burner while they did lunch at a fancy cafe. Joe was the only one intently eating, since Burner was on Joe's trainer's device checking-in on Alice, failingly hoping to find out what she would like as a gift without asking directly.
Mister Syfax was telephoning someone, also. "It's not going to happen. Because I said so, for one. Yes, I could ride Hemmy there, but he wouldn't get me back in time for work tomorrow, and technically I'm on duty twenty-four this weekend so one call from Simian or my current load while I'm away and I'm in a world of fertilizer. I don't care, tell them to catch a late show on me, or to go up-stream and rent something warm and slippery. Yes, I realize that, Wick. Try closing your eyes and letting the spirit move you. Because it's less painful that way."
Burner passed Joe's T.D. along to him, and he started recording the call so Alice would not have to repeat her request a third time. After taking her order, Joe saved it to a file and exchanged a few pleasantries, verifying that her medical condition was well in hand. Indeed, she had already been to Rennin Pokecenter that morning where Dr. Haskin reported her recovery to be progressing without complication, and expected her to be cleared for competition by week's end. As she had to Burner, she expressed to Joe her annoyance that they left town without letting her know, and warned them that upon their return, she would be coming over to reprimand them in person.
Joe put his T.D. into his pocket. "Okay, Dad absolutely refused to let Ivana's money buy him anything, and at least for Grace, I know what it is I think she'll like--I just hope they have a fit for her size and shape. I don't know what Alice was talking about. All I caught was that it had to do with her roof."
Burner pecked at his gourmet fried potato slices. "Should we find a gift for the ghost?"
Joe slumped in his chair. "I guess, if we can. I don't want to think about how she would react if she felt left out, and Grace said that she did save everybody's butts."
Burner stood up and stretched his arms straight upward, groaning softly. He caught more than a few eyes in doing so. "But, what would a ghost want?"
Joe stood too while a waiter cleared their table. "I don't know, but it might be nice if she slept at night like we would like to."
Across the street, a small dark figure sat at a bar, partaking of an overpriced drink. "Well, well, well--that must be the trainer."