[PKMN FULL] Cornered On The Market! [T](IC)

[Junier]

Rina the Chimecho ~ Forget-Me-Not

'You would like to see it again, my application?'

Here's the deets:
⇠ ⑰ ⇢
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Location: Forget-Me-Not; the project corner
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Mentions:
Amaryllis, "Barnicle", Cicaro aka "The Furret", Samuel, Spora
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Held Item: Thimble
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Status: Almost overwhelmingly overjoyed at Amaryllis' praise, ready to hatch a plan
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[ the greatest ]​

-------For a spell, Rina found herself in short propinquity of her manager, her looking down at Rina and she looking up at her. It was very quiet between them.

-------The silence was out of analyzation's sake for the Florges, though the Chimecho could assume it were anything. She was unreadable to Rina. In-reality, she did not understand her boss; this is what she recognized fully while gazing nervously into that pale, weary face, expecting Amaryllis was thinking the worse thought possible about her project.

-------She must despise strongly the display! She must be thinking and trying to think of a way to tell me with truth! Oh, but it could be anything, any feeling. Who was Amaryllis was the question Rina now asked herself, or what was she? Imperious, implicit, vain... but the incentives behind these perceptions were lost to Rina. The eloquent loathing that could have effectively filled a novella before had become a faint, nebulous blob of vague occurrences in her mind, like a sour taste in a 'mon's mouth after waking up.

-------"Oh," Amaryllis finally began, halting the square-off, before starting to prattle on about the Furret's "responsibility" and "mentoring nature" and "something-or-other awful, tragic, roughed up outside, something else".

-------Whatever. Rina moved backwards, further into the made-over corner—her corner that she was still proud of regardless of anything. There was a sort of glumness to the Chimecho's demeanor now, as if she were pervaded with pessimistic feeling, though the impression was brief.

-------"...I just have to say to you, Rina, that I'm speechless."

-------And suddenly, within her, there was a tremendous change of temperament. The subtle statement of stupefaction already made the Chimecho feel lightheaded, but then Amaryllis went and chattered on about the accents, the confetti, everything that Rina herself loved about the display. But the little, lightweight Psychic could not go and faint right before her manager, especially when Amaryllis had locked onto her the most obstinate of stares. It was the most sincere Rina had ever seen her boss in those two hours.

-------The Florges jumped at Barnicle's entrance, addressed them all and sashayed over to the register. Of course, still upon her lips were words of praise: "Customers may as well step into a magazine."

-------Rina was beaming, clearly more speechless than Amaryllis as a verbal reaction to her sweeping success was to come delayed. The praise was like the euphoric icing on her towering pride. She could have fallen to the floor as Amaryllis disappeared behind the check-out corner, for whatever reason she was too elated to consider. Suddenly, even her lanterns looked flawless overhead as the Chimecho basked in her brilliance. And, best of all, she'd finally, truthfully, resonated with her boss…!

-------She wondered, spontaneously, if any of her coworkers reflected the same awe as Amaryllis. A quick, casted look about the store proved Spora was off to the side and that Bidoof had left the building. She shot a specific glance over the frenetic Ninjask, Barnicle, that she so presumptuously positioned herself in front of minutes before though, indifferently, offered no condolences. Rina found herself unable to feel bothered by the lack of enthusiasm, concerning her corner, on either of the bugs' ends.

-------But, meanwhile, there was the Furret. He had a name, she recognized, but it would take a prodigious effort to remember, nevertheless pronounce it if she ever had to address him again. He must have been awfully proud of himself, the serpentine rodent, wringing some appeal out of their manager simply by smiling and speaking kindly. Rina hated coming to bitter realizations after the fact. Amaryllis may not have known but the Chimecho certainly did now and decided she wanted closure for it. She admitted to herself the glossy, pink Furret with a name was impressively clever, certainly a connoisseur of indirectness while she was but a rookie, but nonetheless Rina swore not to let him or anyone else manipulate her ever again. There were still so many working hours left, and now that Amaryllis was well-aware of her talents, more coworkers would want to use them to their advantage, wouldn't they?

-------That Furret emanated malevolence, even now. Regarding him should have been as aggravating as regarding Samuel, but, for a particular reason, Rina wasn't very bothered at all, for in the time that Amaryllis had gone and reappeared with news for the whole of Forget-Me-Not, she had devised her ploy. It was indirect in-nature and, if it worked, it would make the striped sycophant suffer. Just the idea that she could bring strife to him, that she had a plan in the works, broadened her smile to that she resembled a tiny sun in her own little universe when Amaryllis fully returned with the food.

-------"It is a feast fit for the king!" she exclaimed, marveling the food galore; sponge cake and shortbread crackers, eggs and milk and berries.

-------"But, Amaryllis, I am so very, very glad that you have liked what I have done here! I did put all my effort into it and it seems to all have paid! And, I must say, you have taken much effort too into the breakfast this morning! Thank you so very much! I would love to sit down and stay and eat but, first, I have something in the bathroom to do. Very quickly! May I be excused?"

 

[Xtrashy]

Well apparently they had done a thing, she wasn't exactly sure what that thing was still but it was a thing that got done. She was entirely fine with everyone else's contributions, considering she had no idea what they had made in the first place, whatever it was it looked way too gaudy for her tastes, but given her employer that was probably the entire point of whatever it was. "Looks neat I suppose." was her only addition. Perhaps now would be a good time to inform her boss of what had gone on outside, that is until a plethora of food was introduced. Well, that could probably wait just a bit longer right? I mean, no reason to tell Amaryllis anything, as long as there was something to eat anyway, free food, the best kind of food of course, though something inside her possibly though Amaryllis might take this out of their pay somehow. Though she was only going to have crackers for the most part, mostly cause she didn't care much for sweet things. Hopefully she wouldn't forget about all that stuff that happened outside by the time she got around to telling her boss, though it wouldn't be the end of the world if she did.

 

[dud190]

Location: Inside the Forget-Me-Not Shop
Status: Frustrated and Angry
Additional Info: None​

​

Benicle the Ninjask​

​

"Your rival is hurt and in dis-" Benicle was cut off by the sudden appearance of a Chimecho right in front of his face.
"Please excuse me, but Miss Amaryllis was very near to addressing the project area!" the Chimecho said. The way Chimecho spoke that sentence made it seem as if she hated interruptions. That statement made Benicle mad but he made sure to keep to himself. Showing his anger wouldn't do well with first impressions or Amaryllis's choice to hire him. However, he did start to size up the Chimecho.
Almost everything about the Chimecho seemed to be just fine. The one slight thing that Benicle noticed was the freckles on the Chimecho. It seemed a little odd on the pokemon, but it worked out apparently. However, he could not seem to ignore the facial expressions that were given off from the pokemon. Her mouth obviously wasn't smiling, it had an indifferent, somewhat mad look to it. But that wasn't all. The pokemon's face seemed scrunched up, as if it had... Wrinkles? Benicle called them wrinkles, but whatever they were, it made the Chimecho seem as if it had a lot on her mind.
Benicle's assessment of the Chimecho was interrupted when he heard another voice speak.
"This is a newly-hired employee. Ehm... Barnicle, I believe. A Ninjask." Benicle looked around the Chimecho to see who it was, and Amaryllis had started to talk. All of a sudden, a sudden burst of anger shot through him. He managed to keep it under control, but he was now a little frustrated. How in the world did Amaryllis forget my name? Benicle thought. Benicle was about to mention that to Amaryllis when the Florges went rambling on again, this time while she was trotting over to a new location.
"I'm sure what Barney here has to say is very important, but he will just have to say it over breakfast..."
This fueled the fire even more, but Benicle just held it all in as he followed Amaryllis to wherever she was headed. He had caught up to Amaryllis and was about to open his mouth to issue a complaint, but.... Amaryllis had gone into the manager-only room. So Benicle had no choice but to scoot back, and wait for her to come back. While waiting, he decided to survey the area, look all around him and see who all his employees were. With a quick scan, he saw a Furret, a Parasect, and that Chimecho. Benicle's eyes spotted the Chimecho, however, right as she was looking at Benicle. She turned away a split-second later, but Benicle recognized the look. It was a look of indifference, as if she didn't care for the bug that was him. It was this that Benicle decided to do something about this. He couldn't just hover idly around having people push him around. And so Benicle started confidently flying towards the Chimecho, just as Amaryllis came out from the manager's room. "Here we are!~ Come and mange, dearies. Sit and have a little pow-wow over tea." Benicle disregarded this statement, at least for now, because he had something he wanted to accomplish. When he reached the Chimecho, he positioned himself right in front of the Chimecho's face.
"Hey! What's your problem? I just get here to help around and the first 20 seconds in I have a co-worker standing right in my face blocking my sight to the boss! And if that wasn't enough, you have to go and shoot me dirty looks! I thought we were supposed to be collaborating, not becoming enemies at first sight!" Benicle exclaimed.


[/COLOR]​

 

[Junier]

Rina the Chimecho ~ Forget-Me-Not

'You would like to see it again, my application?'

Here's the deets:
⇠ ⑱ ⇢
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Location: Forget-Me-Not; the project corner ↪ the restroom
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Mentions:
"Barnicle", all non-deaf present in the store
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Held Item: Thimble
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Status: Totally overwhelmed
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[ nOISE ]​

-------She thought the very brief and seemingly one-sided skirmish with the newcomer Ninjask as over, but yet he appeared obstinate for a Round 2. Rina roughly gauged the intent as she called out to Amaryllis. Her tone began to falter as she realized with dismay as she could no longer ignore the winged distraction as he was headed right towards her.

-------Still, the Chimecho spoke on, in-denial for a second or so before being lined with a hurried edge, the feinted positivity now wholly drained. Truthfully, she was almost scared. He was a Bug with claws at his oddly-crooked limbs, a pitch-black exoskeleton and glaring, red, insect eyes. Perhaps Amaryllis could Moon Blast him away if he thought to "mistakenly prod" her but, alas, she wasn't exactly a Fire-type and Rina was still sullenly without her gasoline. If "Barnicle" were actually, confidently, "coming at her"—as was the language of her friends—, he was going to come at her fast. But he surely wouldn't—

-------Yes, he was; he was spontaneously before her, hardly a blur of aerial movement before his gold-crested face was sticking right into her own. The distanced buzzing of his wings had been similar to thunder rolling, foreshadowing, but right in her personal area as Rina beheld Barnacle, the wings whined like a million sticks of chalk dragging down miles and miles of blackboard. And, as accompaniment, the nagger spat himself with sheer speed: "What's your problem help-a-round the first twenty-in and co-worker standing…!" That was what it sounded like to a Pokemon so comparatively new to the widely-known language. If Rina were to converse using her natural Seven Tones in their highest frequency, the Ninjask may have appeared just as she did: bewildered and terrified.

-------She did not know where to begin, only stared on more hollowly than usual with down-turned mouth gaping as she struggled to find anything at all to stifle all the noise, noise, noise. It was accusatory noise, she figured, as she managed to catch onto vague, interwoven phrases: "blocking… boss… dirty looks!" Dirty looks!

-------"I did not… How did…" She strained and fought to counter his exaggerated claims but found no room between the towering wall of words-per-second. Rina was massively overwhelmed. She knew she must be able to refute most of whatever the Ninjask thought he was coherently saying, but not when he spoke at such a pace and with his wings whining in her pores, like she could hear her own whistling temper building upwards like a cooking tea kettle.

-------It was hopeless! As he cried about "enemies at first—" Rina burst, as she could do nothing to express herself but scream deafeningly over him:

-------"I AM GOING TO THE BATHROOM!"

-------She turned her stentorian blast skywards so that it was contained but the sound of it still echoed throughout the room and thoroughly shook a handful of her overhead lanterns. Rina did not dally to see whatever had come from the cry. Swiftly, she fled the scene with a contorted frown and a pale tint to her polished face. Beside the supply room, the bathroom door slammed shut and was clumsily locked.

 

[Greiger]

Gabriel with a slice of Silver
Inner Monologues and Thoughts​

Gabriel glanced over at the boxes and made his way over, grabbing one and inspecting the contents. He saw berries, rice cakes, and cake itself. He let out a sigh and went over to a corner and plopped down. He set the box before him and picked up a berry, starting to chew on it. He always had a problem with berry juice, mainly due to the fact it would dribble down his claws and stick to his fur. He couldn't recount the number of times his fur would twist up into painful strands because of a bit of stickiness. It was why whenever he picked one up and plopped it into his mouth he would quickly wipe his claws clean with a napkin. At the very least he didn't have to head out today to get something to chow on, so that was a plus.

Sitting next to Gabriel, Silver was choking down the last of her heal powder as Castiel deposited the box of breakfast in front of her. The shivered and scrunched up her face in disgust at the bitter tasting medicine she had

only taken reluctantly. Feeling somewhat better already, she sighed and looked down at the box of food that was to be her breakfast, and was pleased to see that Castiel had actually put some effort into making a decent meal. Cake? And gummies too? This must have been a much more important day than she had thought. She happily started munching on some of the nuts inside the package, her mood starting to lighten slight. Between bites, she managed to say, "So Gabriel, anything interesting happen on your...mission?"

The Weavile cracked a smirk as he downed another berry. "Oh, a rather attractive shiny I happened to meet." He responded. "Reminds me of the kind of people my... a friend always hung around with." He chuckled a bit, "If you get my meaning. The dude practically fell for me. It's how I got my information. Just a twiddle of the claws, in a manner of speaking." He grabbed a few nuts and popped them in his mouth, pausing to chew and swallow, "And how'd a Kecleon get in here anyways? Did someone leave a window open?"

It took her a moment to realize that when he said "shiny" he meant one of the strangely colored pokemon that seemed to pop up every now and then. She grimaced when he asked his own question, "Not quite sure, but seeing as how he could camouflage to blend in with anything, I can't say I'm surprised he got in. Only would have taken the door opening once and he could have just slipped through." She thought back thinking when they had first noticed it. "Must have been here for at least a half hour or so I would say." She couldn't figure out why it had been there. If it had only wanted to steal something, it could have gotten in and out quite easily, but instead it looked like it had hung around for a while for some reason. "Say," she asked, "Have you ever seen that pokemon around here before? He seemed familiar for some reason, but I can't quite place it."

Gabriel shrugged, "He's not an employee here, but he could have been a customer, maybe? I mean, we get a lot of weird folks in here. He didn't take anything, did he? I didn't see him carrying anything, but he could have stashed something outside of the store." Gabriel pointed out, "If I was ever caught, that's what I would do." He stated in a matter-of-fact tone while he grabbed some more nuts and chomped down.

"True, but I don't think so. I was kind of taking care of inventory when he was here, and I didn't notice anything missing. I suppose we'll figure out when we count up sales at the end of the day, should know by then." She laughed slightly, "I don't think we're going to have to worry about him for a while though, Goro is pretty tough, I wouldn't want to deal with him."

Gabriel shuddered at the thought, "He almost caught me out there." He stated. "In the back at least. He was heading there with Castiel and I had to hide on the roof. I mean, it's not anything new to me, just it was off putting." He pulled out a rice cake and sniffed it before nibbling it. "Meh, why couldn't we have some fish?" He asked as he nibbled a bit more. He didn't lower his tone all that much, knowing that somewhere Errol was bound to hear it.

"Hey now," she hissed, "Be nice, you don't want Errol's family coming after you. I heard her mom is crazy." She didn't disagree though, some fish or really any sort of meat would have been nice. Her species being a natural predator, she had often wished living in the town for a meat market, and a cheaper one at that.

Gabriel frowned at that, "I didn't say it about him." He muttered softly. "I know about the mother. You heard about that one case about a few months ago? She apparently made enough of a hub bub in this other store that they fired three employees to avoid a lawsuit."

"Absolutely crazy to be sure, I hope we never have to deal with her." Silver continued munching on her breakfast.
​

 

[Xtrashy]

It hadn't even been more than a few minutes and everyone around her seemed to be strung higher than a harp. But it was entirely entertaining, it was decidedly nice to watch someone actually voice their frustrations with everyone, seeing as she never cared enough to do it, not to mention Rina was always giving off that high and mighty vibe, watching someone rip into her was like a delicious dessert to the eyes. When Rina suddenly seemed to just lose herself over it was like the Cheri on top. She suppressed her own giggling, the scene that had unfolded was just too funny for her to ignore completely. After she calmed herself down she shot Amaryllis a look of 'Where exactly do you find these people?' though her lack of pupils made it pretty similar to every other look she had.

She had to give some credit to senor Ninjask for sticking up for himself, though he seemed pretty gosh darn rash about the whole situation, not that she minded, as long as he wasn't getting rash at her then it was fine in her book. "Just another wonderful day. Oh yeah, Amaryllis, forgot to mention it earlier but when I was outside I saw that Keckleon guy, I forgot his name, getting carted off by Goro. I also saw that Ghost guy you hate so much getting carted off by his employees, I surmise the two exchanged in a scuffle of sorts." she stated, afterwards picking up and eating another cracker like she was making small talk, and for her she was. Seemed like a good enough time to tell her anyways.

 

[Who's Kiyo?]

" Listen, I started being Pop Punk trash back in middle school, and I don't intend to ever stop being that. "

​

♢ Cicaro the Eleventh ♢
- Shiny Furret -- - Level 23
- Forget-Me-Not Employee (+1)

Today's Achievements

New Aesthetic: hard candy as strained metaphors!

Became a surrealist painting!

Might have enough internal voices now to be considered for prescriptions!

Discovered Fruedian reason for interest in older men!

​

-------- " I don't have time for you to be a mean, hateful little boy. "

----------Although the rodent-like fur spread across his cheeks impaired the effect, a trail of blush bloomed across Cicaro's face. Evidently, his spontaneous plan had worked. Amaryllis finally bought into his lie as soon as he served it up with a hearty sense of camaraderie and feigned respect for her possessions; dusting over the fact that Cicaro had spent most of his efforts today covering up his own mistake. His boss' frazzled mood had ascended and she lightly complimented the Furret for, despite his fabricated encounter behind the store, still being dedicated to his job and assisting as a mentor to his new co-workers. He was reminded of hard candies: no one eats for the texture or the nutritional substance, most get through by suckling on flavor.

- New Aesthetic: hard candy as strained metaphors!​

----------As Amaryllis went on to appraise the actual project itself, a small memory skipped across the still waters of Cicaro's mind: " Oh, how could you do this all! " Rina's voice echoed, accompanied by an image of the creature barely hiding a smirk drenched in venom. " You are trashing the hard-worked-on project! "
----------Cicaro slowly ground his teeth as the soundscape flooded with the Chimecho's old words and the active praise she was receiving on her decorating skills. He had recognized it in the moment, but mental reflection only worsened his opinion towards the psychic's attempt to throw him under the bus; and for what, a few throw-away quips and an attempt to get in on group project?
----------His head twitched, and context behind his smile slowly grew more disingenuous. Waves began to crash against the walls of his skull; dripping cold fury down his spine and numbing his muscles. A layer of civility was skinned from his sight and he found that reality had been similarly peeled of its face value. Everything - especially Cicaro himself - seemed to disassemble into hard blocks that slowly slid away from its pretense of form, precariously awaiting the moment they would clatter to the floor.

- Became a surrealist painting!​

----------Someone flew into the store and took him off guard, prompting him to freshen up his friendly presence and reconnect with the physical world. The Ninjask spoke hastily, with no verbal concept of pauses or punctuation, as if he was late for a doctor's appointment. There was a brief squabble and introduction of the man - his name being Barney, or whomever - but Cicaro's attention was fixated on Rina, obsessively beaming at her even though she wasn't looking. It was lovely how gracefully she levitated, he decided; something musical inside her quietly tinkling against the unseen movements of the air. Cicaro's eyes sunk further into their sockets. How difficult would it be, he thought, to reach into her throat and rip out whatever makes that shrieky, high-pitched voice? He imagined her head resembled the inner workings of a jingle bell, and how he would snatch the tiny bead that stands in for her vocal chords.
----------But that wouldn't be nice, something in him said. Cicaro closed his eyes, catching a glimpse of Amaryllis slipping into her office behind the front counter before they were completely shut. He sighed and pulled up a spare bean bag chair to the project area, subconsciously recognizing Amaryllis' request to do so.
----------He plopped himself down and dug into his scarf to find a small address book and mechanical pencil. His brother - the one that with a Mohawk down the length of his spine and who kept unsuccessfully dying the dark-brown sections of his fur blue - had gifted Cicaro with this book right before he left home, supposing he could use it to keep track of new acquaintances in the big city. This brother most likely purchased the book to avoid being guilt-tripped by more loving siblings for not getting Cicaro a farewell gift; selecting it carelessly from a collection in a dollar store. Every faucet of its existence was a designing faux pas, but true to form, Cicaro found its inherit tacky nature charming: gawdy cartoon pineapples tainted the front and back covers, the hair-thin paper inside felt unsatisfying to the touch, and a printing error had misspelled "Tuesday" on every single page. Ironically for the siblings that had gotten their pink brother more sensible and heartfelt things, this book ended up being the best present he had received from any of his family.
----------The Furret pressed his pencil down to the page and began drafting shapes atop the month of April for next year. His thoughts proved persistent, nagging him to create a layout of the Chimecho's anatomy so that he might insert tiny little knives into all of her vital organs. But a meek, masculine voice beseeched those temptations. Nobody ever got anywhere without getting on someone's good side, it said, being nice will attract people to you, be kind even if you're just faking it …

- Might have enough internal voices now
to be considered for prescriptions!​

----------" But Dad, " Cicaro heard himself say. He looked up to see his father sitting next to him on a bench, wringing the sides of his bow-tie. Cicaro instantly knew where he had gone to once he saw the nervous look on his father's face; he looked out into the messy layout of the park and saw his siblings enjoying themselves amongst the sidewalks and trees. It was summer, and he was a little Sentret again with nasty bruises on the right side of his head.
----------" I know, I know, I know, " his father quickly butted in, out of fear of contradicting himself during his lecture if he answered too many of Cicaro's questions. " Nothing justifies what your friend did, but - "
----------" He's not my friend, " the Sentret noted indignantly.
----------" Yes … yes, of course not, " his father said. " But you lied, Cicaro. You lied about - what, what was it? - monsters lurking in the park, who eat boys and only boys or something so you had your poor Cubchoo friend come with you here at night and - "
----------" He's not my friend anymore, " Cicaro snapped.
----------" Regardless! " his father yelled, instantly regretting it as he self-consciously looked around if anybody noticed. He grunted and over-articulated his next words in a level just above a whisper. " I don't appreciate the fact that he showed up at his mother's door sobbing about how you pounced on him, pretending to be a monstrosity and your pregnant mother receiving a call from the police that they found her son - one that should've been sleeping in his bed - with a fancy new black eye. "
----------" He punched me! " Cicaro cried, " I didn't do anything! It was a joke, and he hit me! "
----------" Are you really that bored, Cicaro? " the Smeargle said dryly. " That you have to go around scaring people who care about you? And then have the nerve to say you - you … "
----------His father swallowed, draining all the moisture he had in his mouth. Cicaro furrowed his brow. He remembered saying a lot of things to his mother, none of which he thought were particularly that bad, so he couldn't guess what he had said that was so horrid his father had a tough time even repeating it.
----------" That you hate your mother, " he finally managed. " That wasn't nice, either. "
----------Cicaro slumped, facing away from his father.
----------" Son, " the Smeargle asked kindly. The Sentret stood by his silence. Irritated, his father scolded him in a dispassionate sentence: " I don't have time for you to be a mean, hateful little boy. "

- Discovered Fruedian reason for interest in older men!​

----------Cicaro teared up a little. He turned to his father, but the Smeargle's face was torn to shreds by auditory swords that stabbed the Furret in the ears. The blade was in the shape of " I am going to the bathroom! " and released from Rina's mouth before she floated away in a huff. She passed by a trolley equipped with a delicious assortment of food and - more importantly - a tea set, which made Cicaro's interests leap from his mind onto a jar of moomoo milk that resided between a collection of beautiful cups and saucers. Its expensiveness had deleted it from his life since he moved; and while normally he would've cross-examined Amaryllis' intentions on serving this lovely of a breakfast to those she viewed as merely helpful elves, he became more concerned about getting his fix before any cretin could hog the creamy concoction first.
----------No, no, not "cretin," his father's voice warned. Cicaro nodded, for his father was right: people are much more receptive to what you say if you say it kindly. He gave a moment to his memory - perhaps the joke with his friend would've landed better if he got another friend to be the monster and he "save" the Cubchoo; at least this would've prevented him from receiving a black eye personally - before examining his address book. In his subdued connection with the present, he had idly sketched out a picture of a smiling Smeargle.
----------" Sorry, Dad, " he hummed sweetly, smiling back at the sketch before scratching out a title: "Jaune." He slapped the book closed and scurried to the trolley.

​

 

[Orx of Twinleaf]

Castiel & Druag
**Joint-post with Jauntier (as Castiel)**

Having been called off of dusting, Druag returned to the front of the store and milled about until Castiel emerged from his office with a few smallish boxes and cushions with a pitcher of some dark something-or-other, and told them all to sit down to breakfast. Druag wasn't especially hungry, but that was only because he had to be used to going without as his restaurant-of-choice didn't always have seating for him. That is to say that the grocers didn't always have edible food in their dumpsters, and Druag didn't always beat the garbage men there when they did.

Druag took a box and a cushion and moved to the end of the closest shelf, dropping the cushion on the floor and carefully lowering himself onto it, his legs out in front of him as he laid his cane across his knees and looked in the box. Fruit with nuts, crackers, and some cake. Also a cup for whatever was in the pitcher on the counter, but Druag didn't usually drink when he ate (very rarely did one find drinkable fluids in the dumpster) and decided to have some after he had consumed the food before him.

Druag decided that Castiel's offer to "sit, eat, and talk" had thus far been satisfied in two parts, so he'd might as well go for all three. Feeling uncomfortable talking with the younger workers there, he decided to engage in small talk with his boss, who was at the very least probably much closer to Druag's own age. Probably. "So," Druag said, carefully picking up a rice cracker with his claws, "Mr. Castiel, you said something about a 'Goro'? That's one of those town guards, isn't it?"

The Ghost Pokémon, who had lowered himself down in front of the counter to conserve his energy for the time being, glanced over at his name being called. Finding it was one of the only other employees not yet engaged in chatting, he addressed Druag's question.

"Yes," he replied, matter-of-factly. "He is one of the volunteer festival guards for today. His regular job happens to be a trusted assistant for the mayor, I hear. His line of work, I'll take a guess, must be in security. I'm not sure what else he does."

Druag nodded as he placed the bland whitish sheet into his mouth and chewed at it. Stephanie, the old Dewgong that would patrol the park at night, had spoken of Goro before. Quite a well-known name among the town guardsmen, it seemed, and an individual demanding no small degree of respect. Even so, she hadn't seemed to think very much of him for some reason, but given that he was a Pangoro, Druag had privately hoped he wouldn't have to find out why for himself.

Castiel had lowered himself in answering Druag's question, and was now in prime position for conversation. Put in other words, it would now be quite rude for Druag to just not talk to to his boss. "He must've been here for a good while, then. Say," he said, picking up another rice cracker, "you've been in town for a while yourself, Mr. Castiel, if local gossip is to be believed. Don't suppose you'd mind sharing what it was you used to do? Before you came to this place, I mean." Druag didn't feel the usual inhibitions to his conversation when he talked to Castiel. For some reason or other, Druag felt as if his boss—be it by age or demeanor or both—was probably less keen on holding breach of etiquette over Druag's head. Or at least Castiel seemed more likely to let Druag know if he misstepped, rather than let him dig himself deeper.

The Mismagius glanced over to the other chattering group forming and returned to his own. His cloak shuddered once as if like a shrug of shoulders. "Well, I suppose you will be the only one particularly privy to this, Druag, but I was once a travelling merchant of novelties and curios." He took a moment to shut his eyes as a hint of pride pitched his inflection, a slight, smiling look on his face. "I roamed far and wide collecting rare, valuable, and interesting things, and if something else caught my eye, I would be one to trade for another, even more interesting thing. I never got enough of finding oddities in this vast, strange world. I have attained a small fortune in possessions over time, in my prime. But now that I'm getting older, I had thought to myself that I ought to settle down someplace, perhaps set up a little store, where I can share with others all the great and mysterious things I've found, as a small service to the community.

"I will admit that I am a bit of a hoarder as well," he continued, opening his eyes. "But aren't we all, in a way? There are some things I've kept over the years that I will never auction off." He stared off to the side, almost longingly. "I still keep the loose shard of the broken Dusk Stone that managed to evolve me, long, long ago." After a moment to bask in fondness, he turned back to the dragon. "And you? It's only fair I ask you the same."

As Castiel talked, Druag had managed to mill through the entirety of his crackers, and now was considering starting on the nut mix. A travelling merchant? Curious. Druag evidently wasn't as worldly as he'd thought: that all very much implied that Pokémon in other parts of the world had started becoming civilized some time earlier than Jubilee was set up. He cleared his throat as he gave up trying to catch nuts between his claws. "Most of my life's been in the caves. I was a feral 'mon, I'm sure you must have heard by now. When the town picked up and a lot of people came to live here and be civilized, my sister and I never made the transition. Dug for gems and things in the caves and then came down here to trade with the grocers. That was up until about a year or so ago, now. And then … well, you know." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, at the wings that weren't there, and then patted his cane for emphasis.

"I managed to crawl all the way down here one way or another, and they patched me up. I've been working temp jobs ever since to keep up enough money to buy that medicine I take for my temperature, Celsux or something. Odd jobs mostly, stuff no one else really ever feels like having to do. Figured I should probably look for a more secure job before all those weird errands dry up." Druag had really not realized that he'd have to answer in turn after asking Castiel what he had considered to be just another shallow platitude. He very much wanted to talk about something else, all of a sudden.

He happened to overhear Gabriel say something about fish, in that unmistakable way that someone would say "meat" instead of "livestock". Druag scowled a little in the Weavile's direction, disapprovingly. Ever since the move to civilization it seemed a lot of carnivores had decided to go with the Berry diet, but not all of them, apparently. Druag had been told that Berry trees had very special fruit and that any Pokémon could subsist on it. He had no way of knowing if that were true or not, but couldn't eat meat anymore, himself. Not since he was with the crew that cleaned up an old abandoned Miltank farm. The things in that barn—

"So did you prepare this food, yourself?" Druag blurted before he could follow that memory any further.

Castiel's eyes were fixed on Druag's, studying them, perhaps even judgingly so. He let the question hang in the air a little so that the ungainliness of it could dawn, just before he was merciful enough to answer. "For the most part, no. Much of these are from little excursions a while back, and I've preserved them to eat every so often or to trade to others. As you can see, I don't eat much." This mention was of the fact that he was the only one of the crew not eating. He didn't even have a box for himself as he sat there in a postured heap beside Druag. "While some of these Berries come straight from the town orchards, the little round white ones with the creamy texture come from Snover. You wouldn't believe how hearty those berries are if you seal them in an air-tight jar, but years ago, before I had even heard of Jubilee, I had found myself exploring a far-off mountain in the north. It was constantly wintry near the summit, and lucky me that I had this very cloak to keep me from freezing." The pink, wooly cloak he wore seemed to shudder on its own as Castiel recalled the memory. "These Snover had their own little civilization in the snow—and made of snow, too. Truly, the only real food they had would seem to be their own berries. How fortunate was I when I came across them during their harvestime, as they were gathering them into a pile in the heart of their hamlet to evenly distribute them amongst themselves. With my little knapsack of unusual treasures I had always carried around with me during those days, I was able to bargain some of their berries for a few seeds of Yache Berries. I had convinced them that should they take care of growing them, they can reap Yache to eat as well. Yache do taste better chilled, after all.

"And those nuts there," Castiel continued, wasting no breath to speak of his exotic findings, "Why, they came from an old Torterra, who every three summers slowly wanders up a river in the valleys four days west of town. He is kind enough to let anyone pick fruits from his treed shell, as long as they save some for the tiny woodland Pokémon who live on his back.

"Those pieces of fruit that look like chopped up banana," he went on, all his stock in articulating his meal as if he had been waiting all this time for someone to ask, "Those are Tropius fruit. Those are imported. I've never met a Tropius myself, since they live in a place across the ocean, but it seems they've a lucrative business in exporting their sweet fruit. The packaging had their official seal on it, at least. They must be very established." In truth, there was no way to discern whether or not that pricey rarity sold by some other supplier was the real deal, but the Ghost had great faith that he was a respected-enough merchant around not to be trifled with—even in goods he had only heard of in the human books he too had hoarded in his travels. That, and it didn't taste like banana.

"The Gummis are imported as well. And that chocolate cake there? That's an Old Chateau recipe that our resident baker, Croquembouche the Slurpuff, knows well: Old Gateau. He gives me treats sometimes. The Lava Cookies, the little rice crackers that they are, are a treat someone else also gave me. That little vial in the corner there happens to be some of the purest, unfiltered Bulbasaur sap, but—Oh, look at me,"

Castiel shook his head and gave a soft, smooth chuckle. "I've up and rambled again. Mother always told me I should just write a memoir. Perhaps it'd spare everyone the trouble of my endless diatribes."

"Oh, think nothing of it, sir, I assure you it's all quite fascinating, " Druag said wholeheartedly. His mind had boggled at the explanations Castiel had given. Who would have thought so many different aspects of the world would come together in this little box? Not so long ago, "Tropius" had just been one of those words like "Wailord" and "airplane" that referred to something Druag had a notion of but never expected to ever actually encounter. And now here he was his Tropius fruit in his lap. Snowy mountains had always seemed so far removed from Druag (he vaguely remembered that perhaps his mother's aunt had hatched on Mt. Coronet but that was a different matter), and now here across from him sat a fellow who had been in such a place and came back. Castiel was truly an amazing individual, and the comparison with Druag's own state of being gave the voice in his head an increase in volume.

Druag, you miserable nothing. And here you thought you were a proud Dragon before the accident: you were just as much an ignorant beast then as you are now. This fellow has been places you can't even fathom. Your co-workers understand things you can't even conceive. Face up, Druag. You don't belong here.

You simple oaf.

Druag had been eating some of the cake Castiel had referred to when his monologue gave him the cognitive equivalent of an unprovoked kick to the groin. The cake went down rougher than Druag would have liked, and he grunted a little, stroking his throat. "Erhem," he said, recovering quickly and setting the box to one side. He took his cane and got up, taking the cup out of the box. "Went down the wrong pipe there, I think. I'll get myself some of that stuff you got there, wash it down a little."

He stepped over to the counter and poured some of the stuff into his cup. It smelled sweet and was rather thin, but darker than Druag had ever seen simple Berry Juice. He drank a few gulps to clean out his throat before topping his cup off and saying over his shoulder: "I think I could find a cup for you, Mr. Castiel, if you want some of this while I'm up." He raised his voice a little and made it a general question, emboldened by the need to be doing or saying something to keep those cutting thoughts from bleeding him dry. "Anyone want me to pour them some of this while I'm at it?"

 

[Jauntier]

Forget-Me-Not
6:38 AM | Main Floor

"Beglicle!" Referring to the aggressive Ninjask, Amaryllis had stamped her leafy limb on the floor--which didn't do much but make a soft patting sound like a page flipped in a book--and pressed her hands to her hips, her lithe arms angled akimbo. "I know you did not just storm into my building to harass your own coworkers." She pointed a little finger in the direction of the restroom, whose door was now closing with the glimpse of a familiar red-speckled tail dragging behind. "You have no reason to be getting aggressive with Rina. She clearly wanted to use the ladies' powder room to pat off all the sweat she worked up carrying our entire project on her back." She then pointed to a bean bag chair, and with her nose turned up and her brow slightly creased, the matron ordered, "Sit down, now. This is a harmonious environment. Don't get hostile with your potential coworkers."

Benicle was dealt a Reprimand!
Don't get hostile with your potential coworkers.​

"Now then," she continued, turning to the trolley and picking up the teapot to pour herself some green tea in the pretty little cups, "Once you've calmed down, maybe you can tell me why exactly you're here when I told you you are working tomorrow."

As she set the pot down and picked up her cup and saucer, she moved to sit across from the Ninjask. Planting herself down in the largest bean bag before the choice Torkoal sculpture and gazing globe centerpiece, Spora had caught her attention. The Florges sat and listened to the milky-eyed Parasect as she sipped her drink. As she listened to the brief recount, she stopped drinking midway and set her cup down on the saucer.

And then she sat the saucer on the floor.

After just having overcome the major disappointment of the rock garden fiasco, she was so casually slapped across the face with the news that her employee, out doing work that should have been so simple for Pokemon with as confident an attitude and as prime a natural ability for stealth, somehow got into a tussle with her sworn enemy and had the authorities storm in and arrest him for flagrantly disorderly conduct.

The empty look on her face had solidified and the creamy color in her cheeks bled dry. Very slowly, she turned to look at the stewing Ninjask beside her, and with a flat voice devoid of life, she stated, "You're working today, Bart."

She then turned right back to staring forward, and without even a glance to her side, reached over into the trolley. She picked up a giant half of a yolk-less, soft-boiled egg, and without a beat of hesitation, began forcefully shoving it into her mouth, stuffing her face as her unfocused eyes began to glisten with a film of tears.​

 

[Ihsaan]

Samuel the Bidoof

Mission: "Man-Boy Meets World S06E09: This Joke Is Going To Get Old"

Pant, pant, pant.... Samuel wiped his bushy brow with his tie, clumsily held in his stubby paws. He shook the grey, granular sand off of his malleable body and gazed at his masterpiece.

"...YIPEE!!!!"; Samuel yelled gleefully.

It took him quite some time to do, but what Samuel managed to pull off was, surprisingly, not a disaster. It was actually decent, if a bit sloppy. He had painstakingly assembled all of the stones of zen into the letters 'F', 'M' and 'N', spelling the initials of his mistress's store. He had also sloppily tilled sand around each letter, and though it was not professional, it did have some charm. A customer who walked into the garden would be reminded of off the store's name, and how down-to-earth the place was. Brilliant. All the hip kids would love it.

Samuel nodded to himself and grinned as he began his slow trot back to the store. He made a note of the missing Mismagius statue.

Maybe Miss Amaryllis liked it after all!; Sam naively thought.

Anyways, the Mismagius statue was too high up for Sam to see, it was a miracle he had seen it the first time. He timed his entry into the main store, with the proclamation;

"I DID SOMETHING, YUP!"

Suddenly, the smell of sweet tea and baked delights hit his nose. He forgot how hungry he was. His stomach began grumbling, louder than a Garchomp during his 8-hour shift.

"Oops."; Samuel said, blushing intensely, all the while surveying the faces in front of him.

The ever radiant Amaryllis and the ever terrifying Spora were the only familiar faces Samuel saw at the Last Supper. Samuel visibly smiled when he saw the pink furret.

Yes! Another normal-type. Finally! I hope that there are no more-

And Samuel visibly frowned when he saw the Ninjask.

Dang.

So there stood Samuel, slack-jawed and eyes glazed staring forward, awaiting an answer. Will Samuel ever get an answer? Will he ever stop being type-ist? Find out in the next installment of "Man-boy Meets World"!​

​

 

[Foxrally]

Status: Sick as a Furfrou

Click here to view Errol's application!

Held Item: Upset stomach

Errol the Qwilfish​

After Castiel had congratulated all three of Druag, Blair and Errol, the Mismagius announced that it was time for breakfast.

Breakfast?! Errol thought to himself. But I just had breakfast!

"Pick up a box and a seat, get yourselves situated, and let's just sit down, eat, and talk. Everyone needs to get off of their legs." Errol looked down at his lack of legs and opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately decided against it.

He watched as several boxes of assorted berries and fruit floated out of Castiel's office and landed gently on the floor. Castiel's magic never ceased to impress Errol - maybe it was why he had picked up the psychic-type move book - and almost made him wish he wasn't a flummy water-type himself. Life would be much more practical as a ghost type. No need to walk, care about obstacles, breathe, or eat...

...eating. Suddenly, Errol felt his stomach lurch forward sickeningly. Perhaps triggered by the sickly-sweet, saccharine smell of the food, or perhaps by the multiple occasions he'd been startled on, or even the simple thought of the rest of today's events. Regardless, Errol had to get out - and fast. Just as everyone began to pick up their food, the young Qwilfish quietly hopped his way out of the store, managing to open the door with his tail before hurriedly squeezing out (which further upset his stomach) to the street outside.

Oh no, I feel like I'm going to puke at any moment now... Errol looked around the street in panic. The sun had risen now, so he could clearly see the paved road and streets. Feeling his stomach lurch once more, Errol hurriedly rolled his way to the nearest alleyway right in front of him, right between a residential building and another sweet-smelling store. From what he could see while rolling uncontrollably, there seemed to be people inside the flowery shop. A bunch trashcans were lined up against the wall, one of them containing a few strange-looking green lanterns which appeared to have been thrown away recently.

Errol stopped dead in his tracks in the alley. Oh, no... There's people inside there, I can't just vomit right next- "Hurk!"

Unfortunately, that was when his stomach gave out. After a few moments of coughing and spitting, as well as a cautionary hydro-pump to get rid of any aftertaste, Errol looked at the horror he had just regurgitated near the trash cans. Among the little pebbles and splinters he had accidentally ingested while rolling was a moderately large and visibly undercooked fish - his premature breakfast. The spray of stomach acid and water had gotten pretty far, almost impressively so. I can smell the stench from here...

Deciding he shouldn't stick around - or at least risk being found out by the nearby store or residents - Errol quickly backed off and rolled back to Spirited Away, where luckily nobody had noticed his brief disappearance. Now feeling a resurgence in appetite, the Qwilfish grabbed the edge of a box with his mouth and looked around. Druag and Castiel were talking near the counter, while the rest of the employees were sitting down near the shelves. Deciding to go sit with them, Errol hopped over as Gabriel and Silver were chatting together; it seemed they were talking about something being crazy.

"Hello!" Errol greeted the pair nervously, deciding to sit near the much less intimidating Absol. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Silver!" Noticing that the two had stopped talking upon his arrival, he urged them to go on. "P-please don't let me interrupt you, mister Gabriel. Do go on."

 

[Fen-Fen]

Following soon after the trio of employees, Blair picked her own box, sat down next to everyone else and listened in on the conversation taking place regarding Errol's mother. Blair didn't think too highly of the hapless Qwilfish, who Blair remarked with disdain like everyone else, but now that his mother was the reason for all the absurdities such as no meat, she was a little more peeved at him. Joining in the conversation, Blair remarked, "Yeah, it absolutely blows having her run the place. Of course, that's the least of my problems." She added the last remark with a tone of abrasiveness that the fellow employees were used to hearing.

Gabriel chuckled at that, "Yeah, sucks all over." He nibbled a bit more on the rice cake, then gave up on it as he put back in the box. He decided to dig right into cake, slicing it up with his claws and engulfing a large chunk.

Silver finished munching down her meal, always a quick eater, and started licking her paws clean where some berry juice had dripped onto them. "So, with this whole fortune teller thing. Did anyone decide who was actually going to do the fortune telling?"

As Blair dug into the otherwise good breakfast that could have been easily better with meat, her ears perked up at the mention of who would be the fortune teller. Blair replied in between bites of the rice cake, "No. He didn't get to choose yet." She paused, finishing the rice cake she had eaten out of. Blair continued, with a note of eagerness laced in her voice, "Man, it's gonna be so cool to see how this stand turns out. I really hope I get to tell the fortunes. I mean, who better to ask than an aficionado of magic such as myself?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes a bit, "Magic shmagik, from what I know telling fortunes is just telling people they'll be happy and asking for coins afterwards. Do fortunes even come true?"

With an incredulous look on her face, Blair retorted, genuinely believing in the "integrity" of magic, "It is much more than just telling someone you'll be happy! It's the connection one feels to the ethereal plane, and from there, you determine the course of a person's life. Trust me, this stuff is the real deal!"

Silver was skeptical about the whole magic thing, but seeing Blair's enthusiasm she said, "Might be a good idea for you to do it then, seeing as how you know so much about it..." She paused thinking for a moment, "Then again, we might need you to work around the store, and its not like Errol can do much anyway. Maybe it would better if he did it..."

Gabriel burst into laughter at the idea, "Really?" He wiped a tear from his eye, "Oh, that's good, Silver. Really good. Errol, hah."

Ignoring Gabriel's jeers regarding Errol, Blair responded to Silver, "But that fish doesn't know the slightest thing about how to practice magic! How are we gonna ensure he reads the tarots and whatnot convincingly? C'mon, this was my job before I came to this godforsaken store."

"Alright, alright!" Silver laughed quietly at the other pokemon's outburst. "I suppose when it comes down to it, it is our boss' decision, so we'll have to see what happens."

Gabriel could only shrug, "True. But anyways... " He leaned back as he set his box down. "It was so hilarious! Those idiots on the other side of the street were digging up their garden, thinking it would give them brownie points or something! They were destroying that sandbox in the back! Just throwing sand and rocks everywhere! Of course I helped a bit, just to make sure they got those well deserved points." He crackled with laughter, "Oh, I can't imagine how much trouble they'll get in for that!"

Dismissively, Blair said, "Yeah, yeah, enough with your escapades, we get it already." She returned to her more normal attitude once the conversation shifted away from her favorite subject.

Gabriel stuck his tongue out at Blair, "Oh? And you're oh so wise magical teachings is a better subject? I did great work out there. I had to risk my neck to make sure we got a leg up on the competition."

In response, Blair rolled her eyes and said, "I'm so impressed. You peeped on a conversation across the street and act like you infiltrated a bank. Big woop." Of course, Blair's dour mood rolled right back in as not only she started to remember why she hated talking with her coworkers, but also because of her own predisposition of having to talk to the creep.

"Um..h-hey guys, there's no reason to argue..." Silver hated it when people fought. Her weak protests against the two were completely lost on the both of them, who continued to argue.

Gabriel glared at the fox as he ignored Silver, "I didn't see you taking risks. If Goro caught me I would have been hauled off to a jail. And you and the others were lounging it back in here, so excuse me."

Glaring back, she quipped, "Right, right. I'm sure it's just worth so much of our time for some shadowy creep to gloat about his accomplishments that we needed to hear a movie's worth of commentary on it."

Gabriel snorted, "Oh, well, what were you doing here? Just putting together a fancy project? Well whoop-de-doo. You weren't in danger of incarceration! He freaking went over to the other side of the street for crying out loud! You try walking right up to Goro and don't even so much as flinch."

Blair twitched involuntarily at the mention of Goro, given her fear of the hulking Pokemon. Begrudgingly, she had to admit that not flinching when Goro came by was an accomplishment; however, Blair wasn't going to admit that to the Weavile. Especially not when her paranoia of shady characters like Gabriel was getting in the way, causing her to lash out at him. The heat of the argument temporarily made her forget her own insecurities, which came back to her at the mention of Goro. Blair, ignoring the sneering, smarmy Weavile, took her breakfast with a huff, and sat alone away from everyone else, adopting a half irritated, half icy facial expression while she continued eating her breakfast.

Gabriel rolled his eyes as she walked away and he sat back next to Silver. "Well, I won that one." He said as he relaxed wtih a soft chuckle. He looked over at the dragon and didn't respond. He honestly didn't want to get close to the mon, well, too close anyways. Even in a crippled state like that he had heard that dragons would still be quite ferocious.

Blair also ignored the Druddigon's request for a drink, simply not acknowledging the offer as she continued to eat her breakfast in tense silence. She noticed Errol reappear, but ignored him in favor of her own biting, dour thoughts.

 

[Junier]

'You would like to see it again, my application?'

Here's the deets:
⇠ ⑲ ⇢
__
Location: Forget-Me-Not; the restroom ↪ the breakfast area
__
Mentions:
Her beloved co-workers and boss!
__
Held Item: N/A
__
Status: Prepared for vengeance ↪ ?????
__

⬈ Rina the Chimecho ~ Forget Me Not

as of 6:38 AM:​

-------To brood was a wonderful act of indulgence — like eating an entire tail-ful of Pokepuffs by herself and only feeling guilty about it after-the-fact. Rina went rigid when she brooded, entirely encapsulated in her sulky thoughts. The Chimecho was curled up now in the breezy bathroom, lying on the tile with her tail folded around her body, shivering slightly underneath the unrelenting AC, but still tenaciously glowering at the back wall with no intent of readjustment. She might have looked pitiful but, currently, she could care less as no one would be forcing entrance into here and no one would know anything that may happen in here but her. (Not that the bathroom could fit more than one Pokemon at a time without feeling more like a gym locker.) The greatest appeal of brooding to Rina was the promise of secrecy and the impossibility of anyone correcting her on if what she thought was "right" or not, for truly, she had been wronged, so she deserved to think what she wanted. A victim of accusations, the Chimecho saw herself now. A victim to underhanded ploys made in-attempt for her very own credit! The very reminder of these wrongdoings set Rina on a downward spiral. The buzz of Barnicle's inscrutable allegations still hung with her hotly. She was completely unable to defend herself then; she was almost always unable to defend herself, especially in the case of Cicaro, that slimy point-stealer! Completely from nowhere! Slimy, slimy Cicaro!

-------Everyone was slimy, truthfully. There was Spora, decrepit, terrifying, yet never questioned, still won Amaryllis' affection, and was that disgusting thing laughing when Rina had withdrawn to the restroom!? Was the just Chimecho imagining that!? She was unfortunately not imagining Samuel's existence though, for convenience's sake, he'd seemed to disappear from store premises. But he would be a very miserable thing to spend time imagining anyway. If that Bidoof were most like any object, Rina petulantly considered, he would be a little brown crumb on the floor, perhaps part of some mess made by Amaryllis. The Florges always carried herself so superciliously, yet Rina recalled faint glimpses of her imperfections. She was a character whose composure was a point of curiosity to Rina. The pride may as well be a visage, one best left off, for Amaryllis had only barely said two sentences worth on account of Rina's project!

-------With that final, piffling iniquity, Rina snapped and decided to Curse the entirety of Forget-Me-Not in one fell swoop.

-------It would be an ambitious endeavor, inevitably painful for the Chimecho and potentially dangerous is that regard. The Psychic-type had never personally performed a Curse on one 'mon, nonetheless a whole building full. It may as well be impossible. However, Rina's logical side was overridden easily by ire and, if she had learned anything from Aunt Morrigan, being very, very angry tended to solve a lot of problems. This was ignoring that Morrigan on most occasions solved negligible issues with inflated violence—her father's entire family was very theatrical, come to think, and not at all in a comforting way. There were, of course, the gems, like little Hugo who had very recently come to his older cousin, Rina, with bountiful news from school.

-------"I totally punked him! You should've seen his face, Rina!" The Gastly had a very memorable, bright-eyed look upon his face as he recounted the successful Curse he'd managed just a few hours prior. "It was in the middle of History, see? He was sitting there… we were all just sitting there… and then, WHAM! He felt straight out of his chair! It was awesome! Never would've seen it coming! That's what he gets for cornering me in battle class, stupid Sneasel. He knew I couldn't hit him! It wasn't fair! Yeah, well, that bully really got it. Fell on the floor… the teacher yelled and he got up but then he fell back down again! Hahaha! And then he passed out!" He was speaking so fast, his normal Spirit-talk inflection being blurred in the process. "Honestly, it was easy. Didn't even hurt that much. Well, it did hurt a little, but it must have hurt him more! And the feeling you get is worth it! Like, you don't even have to be near the guy, but you can still kick his butt! Haha! ...hey, Rina, did you ever have a battling class in your old school? You know, over the water?"

-------She said, then, that he was getting off-subject. "Okay, okay, sorry. But, uh, what else…? Oh, yeah! When I did it. At lunch. I snuck out to the janitor's closet—'cause you need quiet, see—and I laid the Curse on him there. See, what I did was, I took one of the paper towel roll thingies in the closet and I was like 'This is Nate' and it made it so much easier! Not that it was that hard before. You just say the words and, BAM! You'll know if you did it right… eventually. But I can teach you the words if you want, Rina. Really all you need is the first ones and then the rest just come to you when you get into it. So, yeah, unless you know them already…"

-------She certainly did, memorized from beginning to end. The inherited ability to haunt one's enemy with a dreadful Curse was one Rina had been greatly anxious to practice and she acted on that anxiety now. Hugo's advice was fully considered as the Chimecho took to sweeping across the room, looking for items of enhancement, as she so interpreted them to be, like Braixens' magic wands. A pearly-pink bar of soap on a platter by the sink then became Cicaro. With her stumps, she managed to rip a square of toilet tissue and crumple it up; self-explanatorily, this was Samuel. The single, long sheet of paper fell to the ground after the Chimecho's clumsy display, revealing a toilet roll that would effectively act as Spora. She resorted to the small wastebin beside the toilet, now, for Barnicle's item and found a fortuitously empty and abandoned bag of chocolates that greatly brought the bug's image to mind. Finally was Amaryllis, and because she was such a figure and probably used one often, Rina assigned her identity to the mirror hanging above the sink.

-------The items found themselves lined around her in some ritualistic circle with the young castor, Rina, lying in the middle of it all. Her tail was folded solemnly underneath her, her short limbs folded against her, her beady-yellow eyes closed. The paisley wallpaper and store environment disappeared and she was enveloped in an empty void. There was no time for second doubts, although they nearly overrode her, but Rina took a deep breath and, despite herself, began to murmur the words.

-------"Grinding teeth and throaty groans… Itching flesh and aching bones…"

-------The Spirit-talk escaped her in a rasping tone, almost unlike her own.

-------"Cracking spine and neck and knee… Boredom, ire, apathy…"

-------Her hesitance was gone by now, her tone rising in volume and tempo escalating greatly as the words flew fastly to her mind and from her chords before she could even consciously seek to remember them. Rina's voice was clear, echoing off the tight wall of the bathroom, though not especially loud to the assembly outside. The words reverberated only in this room and throughout the Chimecho as, in that moment, they became all she knew.

-------"Licking lips, sour taste…" Her glazed eyes flew open and she still spoke, tone unbroken: "Flotsam, liver, cobwebs, waste!"

-------She recited faster, fast still, and then finally, like a clap of thunder, she uttered the distinct Spirit-talk phrase: "Brûle en Realm!"

-------...and it was done. She knew it was, she felt the success, blossoming all about her. It was a truly idiosyncratic feeling and the effects were instant.

-------Rina was back in the bathroom, the color returning to her face, but she had not yet descended back into reality. There was a certain glint in her eye, a certain sincerity to her stiff smile. There had been a surge of energy and then all her malice, in one fell swoop, had disappeared. In its place came a sense of peculiar positivity, though the Chimecho was in no state-of-mind to question it. She accepted it, the sudden sunny feeling, as she accepted the seemingly-random assortment of trash bizarrely circled around her.

-------With sudden aggression, the bathroom door was thrown open with a resulting BANG! as it hit the door frame that was more alarming than any muffled mumblings which may have been perceived earlier. In the wake of a distant toilet flushing, Rina revealed herself, drifting ahead unhurriedly and whistling a pleasant tune. She marveled the lanterns overhead first, then the project area that she was still so personally partial towards before her gaze fell upon her toasting co-workers and company in the background.

-------"Oh my! Everyone never told me, Rina, that they were going to be eating breakfast!" she exclaimed with meager volume management. "Please, do wait for me!" The beaming Chimecho uttered with a trill, implying some sense of haste through her words but, in actuality, she approached the group too slowly to be considered even a walking pace. It could be expected, however, that Rina would eventually reach the cart at her own bright-eyed leisure.

 

[dud190]

Location: Close to the Ceiling
Status: Thinking 'Bout Stuff
Additional Info: "I'm about to bump my head on the ceiling. The ceiling is too low for me."​

​

Benicle the Ninjask​

​

Benicle slowly floated up towards the ceiling, getting as close as the ceiling would let him. He needed a short time to think after the series of events that just happened. First of all, the Chimecho rudely interrupted him as he was ranting about the importance of being together and working as a team, although he may have said it a little harsher than expected. Secondly, after the Chimecho stormed away into the bathroom, Amaryllis got on his case next. Something about... Er... Hostility and co-workers. He was really half-listening, as Benicle was thinking about the pokemon at his job and zoned Amaryllis out. During this time, he floated towards the ceiling.
It seemed like his coworkers were mad at him. But he couldn't figure out why. He was a perfectly likable pokemon. He couldn't see anything wrong with himself. His next thought was that everyone was very mean here. But he quickly erased that thought. It wouldn't make sense for everyone to be mean all the time. How would they get customers? After several moments of pondering and several times where he almost hit his head on the ceiling, he could only come up with one possible explanation. They were doing something before he arrived. It was the only solution that seemed less unlikely than all the others. Of course, he thought that shouldn't be possible, as they should've been waiting for his grand speedy entrance into the store, but the only thing wrong with that idea is that the employees weren't expecting him to come in today. So that is why he stuck with that theory.
A mass of something appeared out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head slightly, the mass became more distinct, and after a quick moment to process, he realized that it was a Bidoof, a pokemon he hadn't seen in the store before. Although... Er... It was wearing a tie. Odd. But I suppose someone here has to be the businessman around here, and apparently it is Bidoof.
A loud noise caught his attention away from the Bidoof. He turned towards the site of the sound, and the bathroom door was thrown open, which seemingly caused the loud bang. And what a surprise. Standing in front of the bathroom was the crazy Chimecho.
"Oh my! Everyone never told me, Rina, that they were going to be eating breakfast! Please, do wait for me!" the Chimecho cried out with what seemed like way too much enthusiasm.
Okay, Benicle. You don't need to get in another fight with this crazy pokemon. It wouldn't suit well with Amaryllis, as shown by the earlier incident. And I still need this job. Benicle thought. To keep his mind off of the Chimecho, he searched the area, for something, anything that could occupy his time. His eyes wandered until he saw the Bidoof again.
Oh! Benicle thought. This Bidoof didn't see the confrontation that happened with Amaryllis. Maybe I can become friends with him. I.... Ehe... Don't have seemed to make a very favorable impression on the people who work here. Since the Bidoof wasn't here earlier, he didn't see what happened and is neutral towards me. We could be friends.
"Hey! Mr. Bidoof! Hi! How are you?" Benicle exclaimed as he swiftly flew towards the Bidoof.
​

 

[Jauntier]

Forget-Me-Not
6:46 AM | Main Floor

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT, SAMUEL," the Florges choked out from her stuffed mouth, bits of egg flying out as she snapped her head to the Bidoof's direction. And then she swallowed. "... Not yet. I have an important announcement to make anyway, now that everyone has returned from the potty!"

She told everyone the plans for the day.​

"Anyway, now that all of the important stuff is out of the way, I'm just ready to spill my guts out, honestly. I don't want to feel like everything's already taking a turn for the worst but... I don't know." She sighed, wiping at her eyes before looking out into space for a moment. She reached over onto the tray and grabbed another giant slice of egg. "That lizard is fired. He clearly proved to me that he was aggressive, dense, graceless, and horrible at disguise for a Kecleon of all things." She began now to nibble here and there on the whites. "Oh Arceus, and what if he has the nerve to tattle on me? To Goro?! He wouldn't do that, would he? I'm not saying what I did was wrong, it's more like Goro is such a big, hulking, muscular stickler for rules that peeping through a dark window to him would be shifty. Not that I would blame him, but it's only okay if I and my loving employees do it, since we know we aren't being sleazey good-for-nothing Hoopa goons."

She started to fan herself with one hand, attempting to stave off the heat of her own passion and worry. "It's times like these Mother Dearest would tell me that all I need to do is..." She trailed off in mid-sentence, knitting her brow as she began to consider. "I suppose I'll do that right after breakfast. For right now, I just want to lounge with my trustworthy hires! And you too, Banelicky." She gave a side-eye to the Ninjask, for clarification. "All of you are like my family away from family, in a way. Oooh, I'm just ready to open up and let it all out!"

With a jump in her seat, she shook her hands in excitement as a new light crossed her eyes. "Help me put these tragic thoughts behind me. Let's all talk! Let's play 20 Questions or something! It's not really a game as it is a conversation I think, but you get the gist. I'm ready to let the Meowth out of the bag!"​

__________________________________________

Spirited Away
6:46 AM | Main Floor

Watching Druag get up from his seat for a drink to clear his throat, the Mismagius felt a small sense of connection, not necessarily with the wingless Dragon, but with a smaller part of himself, the part he had relayed in depth to his employee. A part he had once considered long gone now that he had settled, but the drive and ambition was still there. No one could see it, but the Ghost began to smile to himself as he reflected briefly. Then he decided to seize the opportunity to give the big news now during breakfast, and he'd rather sooner than later, as surely his employees had the same thought in the back of their minds.

"Alright, listen everyone," the Ghost called, rising from his seat. Levitating now was no problem, as he had now been fully cured of his paralysis, and he hadn't even noticed how fast-acting it was. "I've an announcement to make, and this is an important one, so listen up!"

He told everyone the plans for the day.​

"Now that that's out of the way, continue going about your business. I'm glad to see some of you talking with each other and getting along so swimmingly. After all, a positive environment builds positive character." He swept an eye over everyone, having made that comment as he spied Blair sitting off by her lonesome with her mealbox. "Let's all sit up around here and have a good talk. I'm your boss--I'm always concerned about what's going on with my employees. How's everyone feel about today so far? Anyone as excited as I am?"

The question would have had more impact if his inflection had actually risen beyond his usual monotone.

"At least have a drink of this Black Aprijuice," he continued, and as he mentioned it, the pitcher filled with the muggy liquid rattled itself momentarily. "I made it myself. Although the flavor is strong it is also very even. It's my mother's recipe." He said that last note warmly, before he followed: "If you don't drink some, you'll be disrespecting me."​

 

[Xtrashy]

Well it was official, she wanted to just curl up under a rug and die at this point. It's like Amaryllis knew exactly how to push every single button she had and then throw dirt in her face. Just the thought alone made her skin crawl. But she'd have to do the same thing she did with all those similar feelings and shove them down to the center of her being where she could mope about them later. She was son engrossed with her thoughts that she didn't come back into the conversation until she heard Amaryllis say something about twenty questions or whatever bunk she was spewing at the moment.

Couldn't they all just sit there in relative silence and not ask their boss questions? Though it must have been a small fantasy for Amaryllis, to have her employees so enamored with her they would want to know every single minute thing about her life. The concept alone made her already downtrodden thoughts just dive down into the mud of listlessness in her subconscious. But she was already in for a penny, why not a pound? "Are you a mineral?" she asked, full of snark and ready to continue on as such, might as well use this to have some fun, probably wouldn't get a lot of it though, and it would probably come back to bite her in the end but whatever.

 

[Fen-Fen]

A JP with Blair and Druag

Druag's offer of drink had preceded rather closely Castiel's own general address, in which he made the offer of drink sound more like a demand. Druag's cup already filled, he surrendered the pitcher to Castiel and sipped unconcernedly as he processed Castiel's briefing regarding the daily duties. All in all, nothing particularly worrying. At least not as much as the pungent aftertaste of whatever was in his cup.

Castiel had moved on to attempting to engage the store as a whole, which to Druag usually meant "everyone except Druag." He decided to survey the store and adopt his standard uninvolved person position while he sort-of-enjoyed the unusually black drink. Silver, Gabriel, and Blair had been talking together when Druag had gotten up, and Druag had noticed some tones of disagreement from the trio. Presently, Blair had gotten up to eat by herself in a corner, with Gabriel giving a pleased-with-himself chuckle.

Druag swallowed his beverage hard, jaw stiffening. Gabriel had said or done something to insult Blair: and that wasn't gonna fly. It was the case of most species that the female—even if a tad smaller sometimes—was generally smarter and stronger than the male, pound-for-pound, and it was an unspoken rule of the wild that males thus treated females with respect. And even besides that, Gabriel wasn't the alpha here: Castiel was. And that meant that Gabriel didn't have the rank to be antagonizing his fellows. Gabriel had acted out of line on two fronts, and Druag wasn't about to let the little punk think he could act like that all day. Three fronts, Druag, he's a Weavile. An honorless, thieving Egg-eater. Nothing more than a stress toy to a mighty Dragon, right? You monstrous brute?

Druag blinked as he wrangled his monologue's demonizing accusations in an attempt to get himself to come up behind the blasted feather-weasel and crack him over the head with his cane, but Errol had rolled up to Gabriel and Silver in the meantime, and Druag couldn't be swatting people in front of a kid even if he might convince himself to do it in front of his boss. But Druag had to do something: Castiel was the alpha here, but it was up to his pack to manage its own discord out of respect. And that meant he had to go try and talk to Blair, now.

He hardly knew her and wasn't even totally sure she wasn't a youngling, but she was distressed and it could only serve to make more problems down the line. Gabriel could be dealt with later—Druag was getting the itching feeling the fellow had been giving him the stink-eye since he came in—but for now Druag could try and repair the damage Gabriel had wrought. She didn't look to be in the mood to participate in Castiel's little round-up, so it was up to the only other person there who probably wouldn't participate: Druag himself.

He took a deep breath and downed the rest of his cup, taking it back to his lunchbox and dropping it gently back into its place. He passed the box up, along with his cushion, not wanting to take the time to pick them up: too much time to change his mind. He'd clean it up later. He approached the Braixen and lowered himself onto the ground beside her, steeling himself for an interaction he was nothing like comfortable with initiating. At the very least she seemed to be less gloomy after Castiel's briefing.

But one doesn't go from being angry to being happy at the drop of a hat. Druag smiled as best he could and cleared his throat awkwardly. "How are things, Ms. Blair?"

Noticing that Druag had sat down next to her, Blair sighed as she replied, smile fading from her face, "I'm fine." She paused, examining the larger Pokémon before adding a snappy, "Whaddya want?", removing the cheer that she previously had in response to Castiel's enticing announcement in the company of her fellow coworker.

Druag slowly rotated his cane, trying not to lose face. She didn't sound like a youngling. And yet she was just so … so … small. "You seemed to be upset about something earlier," Druag said, hesitantly, not sure if he should be as gruff as he was with other adults or try and be more welcoming like he was with Errol and younglings in general.

"Oh really? Everything's peachy keen with him over there." Blair glared in Gabriel's general direction. She was hardly a victim in perpetrating the argument that led her to be mopey, but that was before her own insecurities inconveniently reared their head. "The nerve of that guy." Of course, for the present company included, there was always "The nerve of that guy/girl" when it came to interacting with her coworkers.

Druag glanced at the Dark punk before turning back to Blair in earnest. "He didn't say anything"—Druag grasped for a proper way to phrase it—"uncouth to you, did he?" Druag knew that civilized Pokémon could say some of the least-civilized things. He wasn't sure how to talk to Blair about it, but he had a few ideas of how to bring it up with Gabriel. Most of which included liberal use of Crunch.

"He's a shady creep is what he is!" Blair looked back down at her own meal, now more dour the more she dwelled on Gabriel, reminding her a bit of her old stagehand. She shivered at that thought, clenching her paw to prevent herself from outright having some outburst of some kind.

Druag looked at Blair, at the way she clenched her fist, at the way she was being upset. She was small and yet no youngling. She was so full of spirit, but looked so young. She …

Reminds you of your sister, doesn't she, Druag? What, are you going to defend her honor or something? Like you have any right to be doing something like that. Besides, look what happened the last time you treated somebody as your sister! She's—

Damn it all, Draug's mind roared as it pinned the source of those cutting words against the innermost walls of his conscience. This time will be different.

And the voice stopped. Druag breathed in, fury building now. His back straightened, the shoulders writhing as muscles tried uselessly to flare the wings that weren't there. His eye grew wide, fixed hotly on the back of the Weavile's feathered head. He turned slowly to Blair, his fingers drumming dangerously against his cane. When he spoke it wasn't with the beaten, gravelly tone of a cripple, it was with the same strong voice that had once bounced off miles of cave to strike fear in the hearts of interlopers. It was the voice of a Dragon.

"What did he say to you?" Druag growled.

Startled by the change in voice from his usual gravelly drawl, Blair replied, "He was bragging about his oh so great accomplishments and what do y'know, he wouldn't shut up, I argued with him and that's the end of that." She wouldn't admit that her cowering over to the other table had anything to do with her pride being hurt when it came to being afraid of Goro.

Druag stared at her unblinkingly, and then looked at Gabriel, and then back at her. He spoke low to her, his face a portrait of sheer furious indignity. "What accomplishments could that Egg-eating hatchling possibly have? Do you suppose he'd like my adding 'eviscerated by a one-eyed Dragon' to his petty list?"

Bitterly adding in her own two cents, ignoring the threats of violence, Blair scoffed, "Accomplishments, yeah right. Probably only spies on people, cons them out of their money or stabs you in the back. Like a certain someone I know…"

Druag's head had wandered menacingly toward his victim-to-be when it snapped back onto Blair. "Someone else outraged you?" His steam started to peter out, now; Blair's recalling of her past reminded Druag of his, and he started to feel very tired for some reason. His leg hurt.

Blair blinked. Last time she had mentioned something to the effect of what happened with her and Vezier no one seemed to bother with asking her about it, most likely because of her snarky and bitter demeanor. However, her trust issues made her look at Druag in suspicion, narrowing her eyes at the question. "You could say that," she replied cryptically.

Druag took a deep breath, his mind off Gabriel for now. He slouched a tad, wondering why his back had been so straight. "When was this?" Druag hadn't quite considered that perhaps Blair was always so snippety because she was always being offended by people. He had to admit, after all, that the idea of catcalling strangers becoming an issue didn't really apply to him. "Is people being unwanted flirts such a problem?" Druag was quite certain that that was what the issue was: he might not have been abundantly clear in his phrasing earlier, but he was rather sure that he had let the implication carry when asking Blair about her troubles.

Blair scoffed and stood slightly aback, "Flirts? What are ya talking about? I don't have to deal with that crap. No, no, what happened was something worse than that. Let's just say, it was a betrayal." She paused, "I should have known something crappy would happen to a hapless Braixen like me. After all, it's not like the last twenty years of my life were a disappointment or anything." Her face hardened at that thought.

Druag raised his brows in surprise at this rather shocking development. He had been quite mistaken, after all.

 

[Who's Kiyo?]

" I don't see the point of fancy restaurants when it's more affordable and delicious to stay at home and demolish two bags of pizza rolls. "

​

♢ Cicaro the Eleventh ♢
- Shiny Furret -- - Level 23
- Forget-Me-Not Employee (+1)

Today's Achievements

Created joint post with Grelzar!

Created joint post with Jauntier!

Realized food will never stop loving you, unlike parents!

Didn't have to wait until around five o'clock to start feeling something!

Considered ordering pizza with extra sausage tonight!

Had hope and lost faith in a Cubist, just like the artistic world.

​

-------- " He decided to pay no heed to the beaver. "

----------Cicaro delicately flicked through a flavorful array of teabags he found in a white box beside the kettle. The movement of his paw was deliberate and thoughtful; analyzing the ridged texture of each packet's sealed sides. Half of brands were absolute tripe, as to be suspected, but there were quite a number that spoke to a higher blood. It appeared that Amaryllis pricked her own fingers and let loose some treats she kept cooped up in that managerial office. Goodness knew why she was intent on keeping the veneer that she wanted to create a "synergetic and gregarious" work environment, but Cicaro decided against questioning her gifts after he looked up to find a cup of berry juice labeled with his name in a frilly cursive font. The liquid within smelled patently better than the mulch he toted to earn it, and with a generous serving of moomoo milk added into its chemistry, the taste might as well have been rain from the holy cloud Arceus perched himself on in the sky.
----------The Furret had not eaten since yesterday afternoon, having skipped dinner in favor of continuing work on a painting, and his stomach demanded he cling to the cart and consume at least twice his weight in its delicacies. A favorite of his became the soft-boiled egg, of which he scarfed down several of: they were unusually large, but Cicaro chalked it up as the result of … well, whatever creature these eggs came from … having been a genetically altered by humans; like how you occasionally saw uncomfortably large berries due to leftover "growth hormone" in farm soil. Being enveloped by the taste and textures, he barely registered Amaryllis' scolding voice berating someone or even the blissful euphoria conjuring inside him.

- Realized food will never stop loving you, unlike parents!​

----------He did notice, however, when the backdoor slammed open and a proud voice declared " I did something, yup! " to the walls of the store. Nobody seemed to answer the small Bidoof favorably, either giving him a confused glare - the choice Cicaro opted for - or outwardly shutting him down, like Amaryllis did by using a " I don't want to hear it, Samuel! " to cut apart the confidence he had gained from whatever project he had finished. The Florges had to take a moment to swallow the remainder of the half-chewed food that sputtered out her mouth in wake of the outburst, so Cicaro sipped his tea and watched Barnaby - or was it Blaherty? - with passive interest as he flied over to presumably console the Plump Mouse Pokémon for embarrassing himself. The Ninjask's friendly coo of something-or-other was curiously met with a yelp of genuine terror.
----------The beaver's fur nearly jumped off his skin as he scurried towards Cicaro and wrapped his stubby hands in clumps of the Furret's shiny coat. He was weepy and pleading with the ferret to save him "again" from the "scary bug," but Cicaro was far too busy giving the creature the most off-color look his face had ever conceptualized. Who in the hell is this man and why is he touching me? was the only thought his mind would give him, replacing logic and reason with supplementary material about how the Bidoof must've been a confused homeless boy on a bad trip from Energy Powder; Bartholomew originally having gone over to usher the poor sod back onto the street. Cicaro's's ear had caught the notion that Amaryllis had summoned a meeting and was unaware of his current conundrum, so he took initiative and drew forth his fingers to slowly peel away the strange Pokemon from his figure.
----------Cicaro's eyes narrowed at the pitiable beaver. After letting his situation set in, he realized he didn't quite like the Bidoof's attitude towards Benedito: the reason for his fear wasn't over any actually intimidating features on the bug, but simply because the Ninjask was a bug. A hole in the Furret's filter existed as a side-effect of the over-bloated eggs, and a comment flew through as he gently set his tea on the cart and guided the creature back to where he had entered: " Wow, I wish I was as emotionally open as you are openly racist, " he prodded, before taking a more professional tone in case Amaryllis didn't approve. " But I'm sorry sir; you've mistaken this store to be open, so please come back in a couple hours if you wish to buy something. "
----------The Bidoof walked out of Cicaro's push and turned around, nearly causing the Furret to collapse. There was a look of sorrowful discombobulation on the beaver as he sniffed away his tears. " I … I - I work here, " he stammered out, " Don't you recognize me Chic? "
----------Cicaro unconsciously took a step backward and frightfully examined the creature from head to toe. Nobody had called him by his proper nickname since his arrival into Jubilee, and it wasn't a far off possibility in the Furret's mind that he had either meshed into an alternate reality or was finally sleep deprived enough to begin hallucinating. But these notions were silenced when a waft of recognition drifted past his senses; the Bidoof's nasally voice registering as familiar.
----------" Mister … Mr. Wall? " he guessed.
----------" Chic! " the boy cried, jumping up and embracing him in a loving hug. But Cicaro didn't reciprocate the overjoyed reaction, as the revelation only generated further suspicion on his part.
----------" You shouldn't know my name, " Cicaro charged, his perception slowly growing hazy. " I've seen plenty of those horror movies humans left behind, and if somebody knows something they shouldn't, it's either a plot hole or a clue that someone is about to gut you with a fish knife. "
----------The Bidoof desperately continued his attempt to incite the ferret's memory despite being hopelessly confused by that last statement. " It's me, Sam, " he offered, " remember? "
----------If Cicaro had a conversation partner with any life experience or emotional competency, he wouldn't've been asked that question: his eyes quite obviously and loudly told the story of a joyous sensation suddenly hitting him like a bag of bricks; his thoughts drifting out of his right mind and into an egg-induced grog. The Furret tried blinking his way back into a steady line of concentration, but failed somewhat. " It's lovely your name is Sam, " he said, nearly chuckling, " but just because you exist doesn't mean I know who you are, sweetie. "
----------Samuel's eyes welled up as if his heart was struck with a hammer. He had no idea how to make his friend stop acting so strangely, let alone recall their whole relationship. " You saved me ... " he mumbled, " You were my hero ... "
----------Not to be deterred in his quest to seem like a complete callous ass, Cicaro eyed the group gathering at the project area and shushed Samuel playfully, placing his entire paw atop the Bidoof's buck tooth. " Come, no more emotions, " he softly commanded, " we have great work ahead of us. "

- Didn't have to wait until around five o'clock
to start feeling something!​

----------The Furret couldn't help himself from clapping his stumpy hands together for Spora. An unadulterated Cicaro would've chosen the pace of his claps to be rich with sarcastic subtext and bitterness over being passed over, but having been stripped of his pretenses, he honestly felt a bit excited to watch her work. Besides, he figured that she would fit the theme better anyway; being a Grass-type and all that.
----------Amaryllis suddenly equipped a frown and prepped herself for a sullen performance. She vocally meandered around the topic she wanted to address before convoking enough energy to bite back her pride and declare, " That lizard is fired. He clearly proved to me that he was aggressive, dense, graceless, and horrible at disguise for a Kecleon of all things. "
----------The display was impressive and entertaining, though Cicaro had no idea who she was referring to. Obviously, the Color Swap Pokemon in question had to have worked for her in some capacity to be in a position that could be fired, and since the Furret hadn't worked with a Kecleon in the store and likewise hadn't seen one among the new recruits, Cicaro concluded that Amaryllis was informing her employees about the status of her pool boy. He hadn't heard of her talk of having a pool or an interest in reptilian young men, let alone did he understand how the aspect of disguise worked into that, but it made a lot of sense in his watered down mind and he nodded sympathetically as his boss worried herself over the prospect of her sexy attendant tattling on her.
----------" I'm not saying what I did was wrong, " the Florges insisted, " it's more like Goro is such a big, hulking, muscular stickler for rules ... "
----------And with that, Cicaro was irretrievable. The adjectives his boss had used perfectly described the man, and he lingered on the words like one savors the taste of a fine cut of steak. He interrupted his boss with a loud hum and manifested the bear in his mind. There's was always such depth to pocket monsters like Goro; that they themselves are usually hopelessly unaware of. They exist and focus their entire being within the present moment: they don't need to reflect on their history, since they embody their experience as an structural part of themselves - like brick and mortar - rather than something that's logged away and needs to be remembered to be useful. Ones that stand firm and appear simple to those that flutter in the ethereal clouds of the "maybes one days," but are actually superior: they are beings that truly sense and feel the world around them. Cicaro got caught up on the word "feel" and began to think about how he wanted Goro to bust down the door to his apartment one day, maybe dressed as a delivery boy or something, and -
----------" ... play Twenty Questions or something! " declared his boss as she perked up and tried to engage with her audience. Cicaro cleared his throat and tried to bring himself back to a colder level of reality as his boss went on. " It's not really a game as it is a conversation I think, but you get the gist. I'm ready to let the Meowth out of the bag! "

- Considered ordering pizza with extra sausage tonight!​

----------Spora was the first to jump on the opportunity. " Are you a mineral? " she snarkily asked; Cicaro enough on the ground to catch that it was sarcasm but too far gone to comprehend where the Parasect was going with it.
----------" If by that you mean 'am I a gem,' " Amaryllis chittered, either not getting that Spora was mocking her or actively ignoring the fact, " the answer is an obvious yes. "
----------Amaryllis laughed, her chuckles lighter than air. Needing to quiet himself from responding, the Furret slurped tea from the ridge of his cup. After rubbing gunk off his eyes with a quick gesture, Cicaro discovered his eyesight was at stage of hyper-observance: as his boss turned to judge the remaining collection of poffins in anticipation of snatching up another one, Cicaro could see every petal on her head's floral arrangement in brilliant color and detail. With his newfound power, he scanned the faces of his fellow employees and the entirety of the store. He never appreciated how pleasantly decorated the room was and how well its workers synced up with its aesthetic, although admittedly the wallpaper looked more vibrant when presented in a clear midday gleam than in the blood orange light currently pouring through the windows.
----------It was in this moment that Cicaro spotted one of Amaryllis' unsold paintings hanging on the opposite wall. It had been there since his first day, and while many customers had passed by it with idle intrigue, there was only ever one who bothered to haggle Amaryllis down to a lower price, and even then they ultimately decided against it when she wouldn't cooperate.
----------" All these paintings ... " he piped, "you must do art shows? "
----------Amaryllis was a bit taken off guard, as she anticipated a more personal question than one about her creative career. "Art shows? Oh! I ... Well ... " She quickly fanned herself as she rummaged up a graceful reply. " If only. As much as I adore Jubilee, this backwater town doesn't let just anyone do art shows in the only place where you'd get enough traffic to make it big.
----------" 'The Gallery Hall of Arts,' it's called, " Amaryllis continued; waving her hands to deride the pretentious esteem of establishment, " and it's run by one of those Smeargles. You know how they can get. " She took a sip of her drink, most likely to clean the species name of those lousy minimalist dogs off her tongue; seeing as she said the word Smeargle with the same amount of respect one affords the word colonoscopy.
----------" You know my father's a Smeargle? " Cicaro said, as if it was the most interesting detail in the world, " Love him, great dad, but it appears artistic intuition skipped a generation, if you get me. "
----------Cicaro sighed empathetically. " And the rest of them, snooty critics with vicious tongues; slicing him down. It's really horrible to watch, but ... at least he has some great contacts. "
----------Amaryllis took a second in surprise. The Furret's lineage did make perfect sense: Cicaro often ruined her counters with scribbles and was a well-informed conversationalist whenever she badgered on about art. The fairy settled in her chair and whipped up a charming tone: " Your father? A Smeargle? And contacts? Ohohoho! Well, if he's a friend of that finicky Kazimir, then my interest is certainly piqued, darling. "
----------The light in Cicaro's heart blew out; his expression blank in an instant. " Oh. So ... you've met my uncle, " he grimaced. He noticed he had been subtly rocking himself since the first mention of the Gallery, and froze himself in an endeavor to regain composure. " Yeah, my father definitely knows him. "
----------There had passed a time when a younger version of Cicaro had existed and would regale in the fact that his mother vehemently displayed no interest in being his father's plus one to invite-only art galas, for that meant strapping on one of his dad's spare bowties and feeling like an adult among a league of socialites obsessed with the latest artistic movements. Not to forget visuals that, at the time, drowned him with wonder: lifelike sculptures, paintings you'd swear were photographs, photographs with content that made a young Sentret blush. And though his dad would awkwardly smile and stretch his patience to exchange pleasantries with his brother, Cicaro would shake in awe of his uncle and would nearly squeal when he saw Kazimir's absurd, vivacious pieces. Back then he was convinced by his uncle that the works were incredibly deep and beyond his comprehension, and that his father was simply too rubbish of a creator to understand them. But gaining an adult perspective can alter a lot about how you retrospectively view events, as can the memory of walking in on your uncle driving your father into an emotional breakdown.
----------" Shouldn't it give us pause that your latest works of art are as worthless today in their beauty and spontaneity as they were years ago? " the Smeargle spat, ripping the lid from a bucket of black paint and dumping it on his younger brother. Cicaro and his one of his sisters - the one that overanalyzes everything that she sees through her huge glasses and has a nasty habit of chewing capped pens - had opened the hatch of the attic to see if they could check out their visiting uncle work with their dad, but had stumbled upon a scene of Kazimir angrily throwing artist paraphernalia against the walls and floor as he extolled how much more confidence he had for his hypothetical survival in the conductor's seat of a train about to collide with an another than he had with their father making a single painting that didn't make its observer want to end their life in response. The Furrets had never seen their father in such a raw state of frustration as he wept upon the floor; his compromised state fueling Kazimir with more examples to support his demeaning rant. Cicaro stockpiled enough courage to approach his father about the matter after watching him lay in a catatonic slump for several days afterwards, but the Smeargle simply turned his head away from his son and swore himself to constricting silence.

- Had hope and lost faith in a Cubist,
just like the artistic world.​

----------Amaryllis gave her most dubious furrowed brow and cut off Cicaro's recollection. " Oh, really? I'm surprised you don't have your own sketches hoisted up in the main foyer on your way into the Gallery, then. Everybody knows the art world works around nepotism, and you're not taking full advantage of that? "
----------" ... Don't think I haven't. " Cicaro gulped down some of his berry tea, taking comfort in the warm pit it formed in his stomach. " Twice a week, he'll barge into my place unannounced to give me personal workshops. Fancies me as some sort of pet project. "
----------Simply speaking of the man was like awakening bugs underneath your skin, their tiny bodies digging into your muscles with snippets of his harsh commentary. " Actually, ever seen those paintings credited under 'Secret Protege?' There's only been like, two pieces, but ... those are mine. "
----------" Oh, That's ... nice. " Amaryllis huffed, turning her head off to the side to compose herself from the twinge of envy. " Well, anyway, if you can get your wonderful, loving uncle to finally let me showcase some of my stylistic, impressionist, quality local hobbyist art, then that'd be absolutely ... appreciated. "
----------The humble-looking smirk she mustered was promptly twisted into a frown when Cicaro muttered, " Don't talk of him with so much respect. " Having tiny arms, Cicaro had to get up from his bean bag chair to top off the remaining half of his tea with milk and grab another egg. " Your stuff is far too elegant for the kinds of things he does for the sake of 'art,' " he finished.
----------Amaryllis had herself a new smile, this time a contented little grin from the praise of her artwork, but the pungent whiff of potential gossip caught her just then, hooking her by her upturned snout and luring her nearer. " What... things? Pray tell. "
----------" You wouldn't imagine, " Cicaro declared, softly laughing at the prospect of picking just one to illustrate his point; eventually, he thought the most obvious answer best. " Couple years ago, my father took me and a few of my older siblings to see Uncle Kaz's art show up in this huge vineyard near Farlance, right? "
----------" Farlance...? " Amaryllis pondered. She reached over onto the trolley and picked up a pink muffin with blue sprinkles and gave it a nibble to jog her memory. " Oh, yes, I've heard of it. Wonderful place; not an eighth wonder, but I suppose I should visit sometime. "
----------Her innocuous demeanor as she pecked at her pastry did well to hide her complete lie. She did not recall the fact that she had heard of the town prior; though even if she did, she still wouldn't have brought to mind who told her of it, nor could she have been bothered. She only figured in true debutante decorum that if a well-known and self-righteous artist bothered to set up an art show there, she would know of the place, and be indifferent about it.
----------" We were taken in by all the sights; " Cicaro went on, " there was this beautiful church, all kinds of performers ... and a shiny pair of handcuffs on my uncle's wrists. "
----------Amaryllis had been halfway done rolling her shoulders back for straighter posture when she jolted forward; leaning in with a captivated look of shock and yearning: " What?! No! What happened. Spill. It. "
----------" Apparently, " the Furret temped as he mixed his drink with a tiny spoon, " Kaz's piece was going to have a performance element, so we were expecting some sort of heavy metal trash blaring off in our ears while ghostly shapes danced among the grapes ... something weird, like everything he makes. "
----------Cicaro walked back to his bean bag chair and sat down; a cheeky spring to his step. " But instead, we arrive about five minutes late to the show ... and half the vineyard was ablaze. "
----------The fairy gasped as if she had been asphyxiating for the past hour. " Oh. My. Lord. " Her shock, however, quickly transformed into malicious joy: " How. Why. This is like, Judgment finally reigning down on him for all the superfluous, stuck-up gutter garbage he's ever dealt me - ah, uh - everyone. I just have to know! "
----------Cicaro would've immediately continued if a tiny paw hadn't pulled at his hand. The Furret checked to see if he had just been ignoring an itch until now, but found Samuel as the cause; toting a set of uneasy eyes that peered into his own. He decided to pay no heed to the beaver.
----------" He intentionally set the fire, too. The whole show was a sham to publicly shame the vintner for his political ties, " the ferret pressed on, claiming his hand back and directing himself to Amaryllis. " And too bad for him, a little number he was seeing - a Togetic, a scandal in itself considering breeding group ... and I don't dare say her age out loud - fancied herself an anarchist, and doused three times as much area as Kazimir intended. "
----------The Furret mimicked explosion and screaming sounds to emphasize the pandemonium. Amaryllis tried to bite into another serving of her poffin but couldn't shut up her own snickering at the antic. In the middle of enrapturing his boss and sharing a cackle at his uncle's expense, Samuel pulled at his arm again. Cicaro gave his a boss an indication that he needed to pause their fun and lowered his gaze at the Bidoof.
----------" What, sweetie? " he asked.

​

 

[Greiger]

Gabriel with some hint of Castiel
Consequences are such a chore​

Gabriel couldn't help but tense up a bit at the sight of the blubbery fish himself. Crud, that kid probably heard everything that he and Silver and Blair had been discussing. He would have heard the smack talk that Gabriel had brought down on Errol's mother. The only thing left was to figure out what Errol was trying to do. Obviously the fish must have heard them, or else he wouldn't have come over to sit with them. Why was he playing dumb? Was he just trying to lure Gabriel into a false sense of security and then smugly tattle on him? Gabriel wasn't going to be giving him more fuel for the fire.

The Weavile just shrugged and leaned back, quite finished with his food at this point. "Eh, it was nothing. It's just something that Silver can relate to, that's all." He eyed the box that Errol had brought over and smirked, "So, forgot this day's breakfast, huh?" He asked. He noticed that whenever he would head out with the others to get whatever food they wished for the day Errol wouldn't really follow. In fact, the kid wouldn't even mention being hungry or the like. Gabriel figured that every morning dear old mommy would force some food down his gullet. Today she must have forgotten to give him something. The mere thought caused Gabriel to chuckle a bit, but only a bit. He didn't want to cause Errol to think anything of the laugh.

"So, going to stay on the counter and continue to be the greeter?" He asked the fish. "Such a job suits you splendidly."

Gabriel didn't bother to listen to Errol's eventual answer, turning his head as Castiel addressed them all with his plans. Good, Gabriel didn't want to be involved with that anyways. He would have sucked majorly at that, he knew that much. However the comment about the black aprijuice caught Gabriel off guard. He eyed the juice and figured that it wouldn't hurt to try. Sure, it looked like tar to the Weavile, but it wouldn't taste like tar… right?

"Sure, I'll get some." Gabriel said as he stood up and made his way from Errol and Silver. He figured that at least showing some volunteerism from his side would make Castiel happy. He went up and grabbed a glass, poured himself some, and glanced down at the black substance before he parted his lips and drank a bit of it. It actually wasn't that bad, but it also wasn't that good. Of course he couldn't just take one sip, else Castiel would more than likely be plenty mad. Instead he took a few more gulps and swished it about in his mouth for a bit. He looked over at Castiel, about ready to ask him a question when he saw out of the corner of his eye that Druag was staring at him.

And not JUST staring, but literally STARING. Almost looking as if the dragon wanted to rip his head right off of his shoulders. Gabriel momentarily forgot his query as he stood there, not wanting to turn his head to acknowledge the dragon, but also not wanting to snap it away. He couldn't let that brute know that he had seen his glare. He could feel just a tad of sweat starting to form along his brow when the glare turned away. He would have to keep an eye on his back, it seemed. "Um, Castiel." He spoke to his boss, "I was wondering if I could look at some books we have here. There are some in the back room, right? I mean, I've looked through a few but given we're trying to sell things, maybe it would help if I knew a few of the spell names, just so I can entice customers or something."

The Mismagius honed his gaze on the Weavile. He had a curious look in his eyes.

"Spells?" Castiel asked, repeating the word as if it was foreign. "I'm not sure what you're on about," he nonchalantly dismissed, though he glanced out of the corner of his eye as a temporary deflection. "But, as I know you know since you aren't blind, the back wall is filled nearly from floor to ceiling with a grand collection of texts. Yes, everything from novels and tomes on all sorts of historical, mythical, eccentric, and superstitious material--you can find on the back wall. But why do you ask? Do you want to know a little factoid? You know, I'm brimming with knowledge. Every single book on that shelf I've had the pleasure of reading at least once." His eyes seemed to beam at the prospect of turning the Weavile's inquiry into a teachable moment. "If you have a question about a subject, I likely know a little something about it! I probably remember it; I'm almost certain!"

Gabriel smiled at that. Yes, he was already buttering up the boss. That was good. "Sure. I wouldn't mind listening." He said, "So, what sort of things do you know? Any magic that can cause hurricanes? Or see into the future? Or do you know about how magic works?" He asked eagerly.

Castiel couldn't help but laugh aloud at the Weavile's questions. To him, they sounded so juvenile. "There's no such thing as magic." He did not mince words when in one sentence, the Ghost derisively disillusioned his audience. "We're Pokemon. We have inherent and innate abilities, and some types are more adept in communicating with or imitating the extrasensory or the unearthly. The three types that come to mind, of course, are the Psychic-, the Ghost-, and the Fairy-type. And, I suppose, the Dark type has its moments as well. We are not so much magical as we have have an understanding of and a mastery of our metaphysical abilities--Psychics have an uncanny ability through either keen intelligence or intuition to predict or conclude results and actions, some of them even manipulating reality with their power. Ghosts like myself are attuned to frequencies and planes of alternate existences and can call upon these very essences of power and spirit to do our bidding. And Fairies, well, they are more so preternatural, I find. This is to say, when they aren't trying to manipulate your emotions, their powers focus on the wonder of life and nature, dealing with the natural realm by indirectly engaging it, and it's rather mystifying.

"In short," he began to conclude the lecture, "Psychics methodically deal with the mind to the point that it can influence matter. Ghosts deal with the essence of spirit and planes of supernatural existence, and Fairies draw power from the energies of personality and the natural. And Dark types are, well, some could say they're a physical kin to Ghostly forces, but the focus is on a more sinister punishment in the absolute immediate than anything… greater than themselves."
After blurting that out to a Weavile with an Absol in the room, he quickly chased down his own comment. "Just in general. Not all Dark types are that way of course, but purely speaking, those who really embody the typing embrace everything that aspect has to give and whatnot.

"But really, if you want to believe in magic, I suppose you could say that we as a race are magical in ourselves, of course."

Gabriel couldn't help but glance back slightly at Blair, mostly to see if she heard what Castiel said. Though what Castiel said about dark types didn't cause Gabriel to flinch. He had heard it all before from various mon. He had always been told that his inner darkness from his genes caused him to skulk around in the shadows more. This just justified those arguments ten fold now. "I see… so, basically, magic isn't real. Well, since ghosts, psychics, and fairies are like that, does that mean those will be the only customers we'll see then?"

"My shop attracts a variety of customers," Castiel replied. "Although admittedly, the theme tends to attract marginally more Ghost, Psychic, and Dark types, but especially during evening hours. And a lot of Fairy types tend to deal business with their own, so I don't expect to see one step through my doors too often. Mind you, I don't have a grudge about it. Most types have an affinity for their own kind, because who else understands your needs as well as your kin?"

"True." Gabriel agreed. "Well then, how should I go about selling stuff then? Exaggerate?"

Castiel cranked his head to the side at that, his stare completely unconvinced. "Gabriel, please. Our customers aren't idiots. Sell our products based on their merits. Don't lie."

The Mismagius then righted his posture before finishing off. "But you are permitted to… present a product as more… desirable. You think I'd get anywhere selling charms if I didn't, you know, polish them up a bit, if you get my drift?" He quietly chuckled at that, a glimpse of imp in his eye. "And herbal medicine isn't all that bitter if you play down the flavor, right? And that ouija board won't disturb any wrathful undead, yeah?"

He cleared his throat. "Just be smart about sales, is all."

Gabriel's eyes glimmered at that, "Oh, I'll be smart alright."
​

 

[Fen-Fen]

A JP with Blair and Castiel
Leaving the previous comment about her life having been very disappointing hang in the air, Blair sighed before having her attention piqued by a conversation had by Castiel and Gabriel. Caught up not only in the conversation with Druag, but also her own thoughts, she only heard bits and pieces. Something about a Pokemon's abilities for magic and whatnot, and most importantly, about it not being real. Not wanting to talk about her past, she left Druag to his own devices while she called to Castiel incredulously, "Whaddya mean, 'magic ain't real'?!"

The Mismagius glanced over at Blair from the corner of his eye. Though he tried to keep his usual composure, his eyes held the hint of a dubious look before turning to fully address her. "I mean 'there's no such thing as magic.' Were you not listening to me, Miss Huff'n'puff, over there in your little wizarding corner? Hmm?" His cape gave itself a little flourish as he smugly secured his spot in front of his audience.

Blair replied, indignant, "Nothing's wizardry about it. It's a carefully mastered art to please the crowd." Of course, she didn't believe in the actual practice of magic, but there was her definition of "magic" which she wholeheartedly believed was real.

"But then it isn't magic," the Ghost began, "it's just a deceptive performance. You only prove my point, do you not?"[/i]

The fire fox, who was all about the idea that in her life, she could please people in a way that was something that she was passionate about, sat back as she mulled over that all too familiar response. A deceptive performance. A fraud of an occupation. Trickery. Various people have been down on her former occupation involving her sleight of hand magic. Her parents, her peers, jaded passerbies walking down the street and now her boss. Reverting back to a time in her life when Blair wasn't quite so bitter and snarky, Blair replied, seemingly straight out of a pitch to garner attention to her defunct act, "A deceptive performance? Clearly, you haven't seen me in action. I can make the impossible seem quite possible!" She took her twig out of her tail, and pointed its ignited tip dramatically towards her boss.

He did not seem moved by her display as it was but a redirection to him, but he did find her sudden switch to performance mode amusing. He decided to humor her, figuring it would be a proper distraction from her dour mood not too long ago.

"Is that so? Alright then," he dared, sounding almost haughty. "What are you going to do, huh? Burn me to ashes and then pull me in one piece out of those big ears?"


To the presumptive surprise of Castiel, or frankly anyone who was in the room, Blair backed off from Castiel, found space in the room, and prepared one of the more flashier tricks in her repertoire. With a swish of her twig wand, she surrounded herself in flames. Of course, as a fire type, she had much higher tolerance to the heat within the flame, but the way in which she quickly disappeared, seemingly to nowhere along with the extinguished flame.

The Ghost hardly had any time to react when she materialized behind Castiel, exclaiming, "Ta dah! The great Blair has amazed once more!"

He turned around and faced the bipedal fox standing atop the counter with dazzle.

"Well, I've got to hand it to you, Blair," he began, turning his insubstantial back to her as he casually brushed her off, "That was pretty go--"

He hadn't finished his sentence when a flames suddenly burst up from under him, an infernal vortex that whirled around him, engulfing him entirely like a burning sacrifice. The blaze just as quickly extinguished in a thin wisp of smoke, leaving nothing behind but the haunting cry of a being somewhere out in the aether.

Castiel was gone from sight. The pitcher of black Aprijuice dropped itself onto the counter, no longer being hoisted up by the specter's control.

Grinning with delight as Blair made the boss disappear for a few seconds, Blair whipped her wand before quickly rematerializing her employer on the same counter where she stood. She turned to the boss, with a large grin on her face, "'Pretty good?' Don't you mean, amazing?!" With her right hand, she flourished her cape for emphasis.

Castiel merely stared at her with glossy eyes. After a second, he cleared his throat.

"Well… I've… got to hand it to you, Blair." This time, his tone was very even, almost detached. "That was… pretty good. Although you forget…" He began to descend into the counter, but instead of his cloth-like body merely folding, he seemed to sink deeper and deeper, his cloak bunching up instead against the countertop. He gave Blair a glance with a glint in his eye before even the brim of his brow vanished into the wood, his voice still clear as it parted with a true statement: "... I'm a Ghost."

When the frayed tip of his pointed head slipped beneath his pink cloak, it was all that was left beside the Braixen's toes.

Blair stared at the pink cloak for a bit before having to admit that she was impressed, but not surprised. She chuckled before saying, "Ok, that was kinda funny." She sighed contently before she added, "Well, at least I impressed ya somewhat, boss. That was fun." Her more upbeat attitude was a nice change of pace for the grumpy fire fox after her interaction with Gabriel. After all, what fun is "normal" Blair?