Contents:
Wesley
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Out <O> leads to Pewter City: Southern Pewter.

The sky is a dull iron grey, and darkness closes in early. The air is cold and damp. In the forest, snow lingers in the forks of the broadleafed trees and on the needle-clad branches of the conifers. While at the coast, the sea matches the cold winter sky: grey, rolling and oppressive.

Aie! Peppy and Aurora's puppies are headed for the database! Better save! (Saving)

"Well, that was fun." This is said by one twelve year old boy with blonde hair, grey eyes that contain streaks of limestone green if you look hard enough, and extremely pale skin tinted a bit pink. He's Wesley Brier, and he's just finished up a rigorous round of training...though the casual observer might have doubts as to just what he has been doing. After all, he only has one pokemon out - Fistfight the Machop, draped in a thick blue blanket. There are a few casual observers around, too; it's hard for any winter day to be considered 'nice', and this day is one of the meaner ones, cruelly chilling the bones and carrying a whole host of cold germs. More than a few trainers are inside the Pokemon Center today, looking at notices or talking to friends, both pokemon and human. Wesley is doing nothing to attract attention - in fact, he's been in Pewter's PokeCenter for so long that he's simply become part of the background. Right now the boy sits in front of a red PC. His pokeball belt is empty except for a shiny chrome pokeball, but Wesley is taking care of that. With a few taps of the keys on the storage computer, a pokeball falls from the slot. The boy puts it on his belt, repeating the process five times. <Really liked the way how Lieutenant handled ThoughtThief,> Fistfight notes as Wesley works. "Yeah, he was good. Leochardo's getting better, though," the boy winces, "someone should probably teach him how to sing if he's going to keep up with the Warrior Bard fantasy." Fistfight chuckles. <One that you gave to him to make him enjoy fightin' more,> she recalls. "...One that I admit I regret." And -this- is, by comparison, good weather?

Grey, wet, and chilling, the atmosphere of the island this evening is nothing to be caught out in - and yet, trainers across the world are grateful for a break in the blizzards and less wind. The weather is downright tropical compared to what it could be. But try telling that to Melissa Barlette, who stumbles (almost literally) into the center, huffing and puffing and shivering. She whirls around to shut the door quickly, leans against it... and sighs, taking in the warmth that the center's inhabitants take for granted. Nurse Joy gives the native girl a little smile, but hardly takes notice; everybody's been coming in like that today. Melissa looks out through the glass door for a few moments more before turning to the desk, running a hand through her brown hair. Approaching the nurse, Melissa removes two pokeballs from her belt, sets them on the counter, and mumbles, "Um... just these two. Please." Nurse Joy, her voice cheerful as ever, takes the balls and gestures for the teenager to take a seat, which she gratefully does.

The conversation between Machop and boy, trainer and pokemon, master and servant, or more accurately, mother figure and child substitute continues as the boy gets up and heads over to a couch. "I think it's best if we let Buttercup out without Sparkheart - she knows you now, right?" Fistfight tugs her blanket a bit closer, sticking to Wesley's side like grey, wrinkled old glue. "'Scuse me, ma'am," Wesley says, speaking now to an older girl, who is so busy chatting with her friend she doesn't even notice the boy until he speaks. "Oh, sure - watch out for Sarac." That's her Slowpoke, lying like a pink rug on the floor; Wesley and Fistfight carefully sidestep it. <Yeah, guess she knows me,> the old Machop says, with a light shrug. <Not so sure it'd be a good idea, though. Maybe when she gets a bit older.> "Well, I don't have Sparkheart out with me, and the snakes need to get out too, so..." Wesley stops speaking. But he's in the middle of proving a point! Why should he stop? Because...someone who looks strangely like Melissa has passed a few people-lengths in front of him, partially hidden from his view by another passing trainer. The boy peers after the girl and frowns in thought. <Why're we stopped? Couches are over there, pal,> Fistfight notes. "Uh." That's a confused 'uh', for those listening..which would be the Machop, really.

Melissa leans back in her chair with a soft "Oh", placing the tips of the fingers on her right hand between her eyes and rubbing up into her hair, pressing palm to forehead in the process. "Uff," she mutters again, now lifting her left hand and bringing her right one down to unbutton her winter coat, ignorant to Wesley, ignorant to Fistfight, ignorant to the trainer she accidentally just bumped with her elbow, who glances over his shoulder at her, gives her a look (which she is ignorant to!), and turns back to his friend. Ms. Barlette seems to be having a little trouble with the buttons, most likely because she forgot to wear mittens this morning and her hands are numb. It takes her a full half minute to get even the first button undone, and then it's down to fiddling with the second.

Wesley tilts his head as his gaze follows Melissa. Maybe he's hallucinating - Wesley has a pattern of getting one horrible cold a year, either in winter or in spring, and perhaps his desire to chat a bit with his friend has influenced his fevered mind. The pre-teen raises the back of his hand to his forehead but, no, it doesn't feel any different. "Huh." Wesley's playing with the 'uh' theme, you see. But this time it's a happy sound. That must be his friend! A bright little smile quirks up his face. The young boy then walks briskly over to Melissa's chair. <Wesley, cou..ches...> Fistfight trails off, staring in the opposite direction before turning to watch her trainer's retreating back. It's tough, being one foot four inches in the human world. <All right,> Fistfight grouses, shrugging before weaving through the groups of people and pokemon. Just in time to hear Wesley say a soft but entirely pleased "Hello, Melissa."

"Rrmph!" Melissa grunts rather unfemininely, squinting her eyes as she further attempts the ever difficult task of taking off her jacket. She just manages to take the second button out of the small slit before who should come along but little ol' Wesley Brier and his cheerful chant of a greeting. Melissa's head flashes up, her jaw dropping, peering at Wesley in surprise before she realizes just who greeted her. "Oh!" Her hands fall, part of her dark blue sweater visible below her neck from where the buttons have come undone. Pause. "Wesley!" Bewildered? Surprised? Pleased? Melissa sounds like she's all three as she sets her frozen hands on her laps, twiddling them together (and, of course, not feeling them as she does). "... Gosh. I was... uh... I was wondering when I'd... get to see you next." Though she's looking to the side, glancing around the Pokemon Center as if purposely avoiding Wesley's gaze, she has a knowing smile on her face, as if she knew she'd meet him soon. After all, she always does.

Wesley watches Melissa's expression, not with the narrow-eyed intensity of the last time they met, but he's a bit more attentive than he was before. At Melissa's surprised reaction Wesley's face falls (just a tad!) before it relaxes again. Wesley is wearing what's normal for him: an off-white turtleneck and brownish/grey courduroys. Muted colours, muted boy. At Melissa's words, Wesley gives a little head bob and grins. It's a short grin as always; like all smiles it gets wiped off his face quickly, but traces of it remain in his eyes and even more of it remains in his attitude. However, there's one person Melissa hasn't seen lately, and she greets the young girl with a hearty "Chop! Machop, maa maaa!" Fistfight steps in front of Wesley, looking up at the girl, grinning and waving. Translated, her words are <Melissa! Hey there girl, great to see you!> "Fistfight was wondering that too," Wesley says, with a short "huh", this time of laughter, a stunted chuckle. Tone can make all the difference.

Slowly, Melissa's eyes gradually make their way up to Wesley's own face, up his arm, past his shoulder, and on his chin - but no higher. For at that exact moment, here comes little Fistfight, speaking words that the teenager doesn't understand and loves anyway. "Fistfight!" Melissa exclaims, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses as they turn down to the Machop, her whole face perking up into a smile as she sees the old pokemon's cheerful waving and facial gestures. "Lamia asks about you every, um, every time I take her out, um, ah, Fistfight! Do you remember Lamia? The, uh, Ivysaur? The... big green thing that you talked to a while ago?" Wesley who? Looks like Melissa only wants to communicate with Fistfight! ... which is saying something, seeing as how it's a one-way conversation.

Wesley lets Fistfight take the stage, rocking back onto his heels as he sits in the wings. On the outskirts of the stage in a conversation is where Wesley likes to be...but not in conversations with Melissa. He surpresses the annoyed look that almost sneaks its way up on his face, remembering that Fistfight hasn't seen Melissa lately either. For her part, the old Machop claps her heavily-veined hands after Melissa delivers Lamia's species; before that she'd just looked a bit confused. <Hey, that old girl! Yeah, yeah, I remember her now. Gee,> she gives a loud laugh <now I feel guilty that I ever forgot. Yeah, yeah, Lamia.> Fistfight gives an upbeat little grin. <Hey, speakin' 'bout pals and such, I'm glad to see you two're friends again - I kept tellin' Wesley you'd be pals but..> Fistfight leans closer to Melissa, with an exaggerated whisper from behind her hand and a twinkle in her brown eyes <..he was a little itty bit upset, all the same.> Ah, Fistfight; an unlikely cross between a homey farmgal and an utter ham. "..I, uh, think she'd like to see Lamia," Wesley speaks up. "And she says that she's happy that.." a shy smile "we're..friends again." The smile broadens a bit before fading back into Wesley's habitual neutrality. Fistfight nods /extra/ hard at Wesley's words!

Aie! Peppy and Aurora's puppies are headed for the database! Better save! (Saving)

Though Melissa doesn't understand a single word of what the little Machop says, it actually does look like the teenager is at least watching Fistfight's movements, her actions, her body language, trying to decipher as much of the fighting-type's cryptic messages as possible. She doesn't arrive at much, however, so Melissa is very grateful when Wesley tells his friend exactly what Fistfight meant. "Oh," mumbles the girl, reddening as she always does as she looks down at Fistfight. "She..." She glances at Wesley out of the corner of her eye before focusing once more upon Fistfight. Enchanted smile. "She... really said that?" Melissa exhales softly, an amused sounding noise that develops into a light chuckle as the girl places her hand upon her belt. "... You know I'm glad, too, Wesley." She gives him one final look, her bright smile spreading throughout her entire face... before, without warning, she whips a pokeball off of her belt. "Stand back a bit..." She makes pushing motions with her numb hands, especially at Fistfight, but some for Wesley, too. Should both of the two give her enough room, Melissa will drop the pokeball to the floor, revealing the hundred thirty pound pokemon in all her glory. <Oh, is it dinner time already, Melissa?> Quite a greeting!

Wesley gives an amused head-tilt. "Of course she said that," he responds - the amusing thing being the thought that he'd lie about what his Machop says, though he doesn't expect Melissa to get the joke. At Melissa's words about their newly comfortable friendship, Wesley's soft face looks, quite simply, proud. They're friends now because of Melissa! ..Yeah, because of Melissa - Wesley has attributed their 'new' friendship solely to Melissa's abilities, not his own or even a combination of both. At the promise of seeing the good old Ivysaur, Wesley and Fistfight do indeed step back - Wesley stepping back a few paces too much. The young boy doesn't move forward again, though. He stares at the Ivysaur, his jaw going a bit slack as he stares at its blue, fanged face with its wide red eyes. So like Trial's, yet so different. Fistfight gives a loud chuckle, the extra volume added mostly to capture the plant/poison type's attention. <Nope, it ain't,> she says, giving Lamia a happy little wave from underneath the cover of her blue winter blanket, which is looking a little threadbare. "..Hey, I've been meaning to ask you," Wesley starts up suddenly. "How was that Growlithe book? You got it at Lavender." The pokemon can have their own conversation, so goes Wesley's reasoning; neither trainer are going to get much out of listening to something they can only partly understand.

Lamia seems disappointed when Melissa shakes her head, making a sweeping gesture towards Fistfight. "Not yet, Lamia... b... but remember Fistfight here? You girls talked about... ... um..." Not only was it long ago, but the girl also understood neither Ivysaur nor Machop at the time. And so, Melissa trails off into nothingness - though thankfully, her elderly pokemon takes over. <Hey,> the plant-type mumbles, shifting her body (pound pound pound pound go her muscular limbs). <Why, I do remember you.> Lamia's red eyes give a little wink, and she gives a head gesture to Wesley, growling, <He had an annoying Drowzee, did he not?> Melissa would probably reprimand her pokemon for calling ThoughtThief annoying (even if she thinks he is... at least, now she does) had Wesley not distracted her. Turning her head to the boy, her hair swishing behind her, Melissa raises her left hand to adjust the glasses on her nose. "Oh... um. Howl of a Growlithe, right? It was... really sweet." She smiles softly. "Romantic, but... it didn't... interfere with the story itself. ... CrystalFire just liked the pictures of the Growlithe in it." Her smile becomes a little more coy, maybe even very slightly mischievous, as she bites her lower lip and chuckles uncertainly. "She, uh... thought he was cute."

Well. Wesley raises both eyebrows as Melissa mentions CrystalFire's interest in a fictional character, but he appears somewhat amused, in an incredulous 'you're joking' manner. He gives Lamia a little glance before he responds to Melissa. Hey, Lamia is one evolution away from becoming his favourite pokemon. It's hard for him to keep his legs locked so that he doesn't kneel down to get a closer look at her. When Wes does respond, his happy emotion finds expression in his grey eyes. Though the narrow shape of his eyes and the thickness of his unibrow conspire to make Wesley look guarded at best and sour at worst, his happy gaze trounces them all. Wesley raises his eyes "What was the story about, anyway? Was it one of those books that are only about pokemon and not about humans? There are some books like that. I recently picked up a book only about pokemon called 'The Rat Pack', from the library; it was a great read. Rather..humourous." Wesley raises his head here. "And I /understood/ the jokes and I /liked/ them." He's so proud that he has a sense of humour. Which is, in its own way, quite sad. Fistfight chuckles some more at Lamia, though she frowns lightly as she mentions ThoughtThief. The emotion is quickly brushed off with an expansive wave of her hand. <Yeah, the Drowzee that was dropped on the head a few too many times,> she says, with a huff. <But Wes's got a buncha other great pokemon to make up for that one bad'un.> Fistfight..strikes a pose, showing off her biceps with a tough look plastered on her face, the effect ruined by her twittery giggle.

Aie! Peppy and Aurora's puppies are headed for the database! Better save! (Saving)

Melissa blushes a little as though she's the one who should feel humiliated. "... The pictures were just really well drawn... I think she's getting... to that, uh, age..." More and more, Melissa becomes aware of just how silly she sounds, and when Wesley gives her a topic change, she jumps on it. "Oh... The Rat Pack? ... Think I heard good things about it. ... In the, uh, the Growlithe book, there were actually, um... four main characters, and, uh, it sort of... showed them through their lives... and how they all, uh, interacted w-with each other... throughout their lives, before all four of them came together in the end... one of the, uh, the characters was an Oddish. I really... uh, I really like Oddish. Gloom. I love Gloom." Despite her smile, despite her controlled voice, Melissa is blushing and even sweating slightly, though that might just be because she still has her coat on. She's trying her very hardest to be sociable, to talk in more than slightly longer fragments... and it's taken a lot out of her. Lamia, in the meantime, is having a much easier time being friendly. <I'll say! I've met Grimers with better trains of thought. Not to mention better looks.> Her devious little grin almost - not quite, but if Fistfight noticed, she might be a small resemblence - matches the one Melissa gave earlier. <Yeah, an' I'm sure he does. She tells me all the time 'bout his pokemon.> Flicker up to Wesley. Glance back at Fistfight. <Hear he's got some baby Ekans and a baby Pikachu. It certainly isn't easy to raise children...> She trails off, though she keeps her attention on Fistfight, waiting - maybe even hoping - for agreement.

Wesley nods eagerly, listening to the description of the book. "Oh, you like Gloom?" he asks. He didn't know (in actuality, remember) that. The boy can't think of anything else to say at the moment - when he imagined chatting with Melissa throughout the week, he hadn't gotten this far! Fistfight rolls her eyes and emphatically <mmmHMMmm!>s in agreement with Lamia's thoughts on ThoughtThief. <Yep, the kiddo's got a bunch of little kiddies on his team now...heh, your gal really talks about Wes's team a lot?> Fistfight seems quite tickled at the thought. She'd continue, but something from her conversation reminds Wesley..."I need to let out the kids!" With that, his hands fly to his pokeball belt. From the flashes that result appear two young Ekanses, and a very baby Pikachu, both reforming from red energy at his feet. Buttercup the baby Pikachu looks around, standing on tiptoe as she does so. <Daddy?> she questions. "I don't have him out, Buttercup..she's Buttercup, by the way," he adds (uselessly) for Melissa's benefit. <Daddy?> the baby 'Chu repeats cluelessly. <'Scuse me a bit,> Fistfight says to Lamia, sensing trouble, before turning to the baby. <Hey, hon, I'm here, okay sweetie gal?> the Machop croons sweetly. <Daaadyyy..> whimpers Buttercup, her ears lying downwards, her voice trailing into a whisper. <Huh boy, yeah, it's hard,> Fistfight says in an aside to Lamia, her gaze locked on Buttercup. The Ekanses, unconcerned with the drama, slither over to their trainer and begin to coil up his body as Wes stares down at the Pikachild, worried that she'll cry (thought it'd be nice if he thought of it before!). Maybe Melissa or Lamia could help?

Melissa's response is an enthusiastic nod, complete with "I've always wanted one... Oddishes do turn into Glooms, right? Oddish, those cute green pokemon with the leaves?" She asks as though it's -not- as obvious a question as it really is, but hey - maybe Wesley will be flattered that she's asking him, of all people. Or maybe he'll think she's an idiot. Who knows? As Wesley mentions letting out the kids rather suddenly, Melissa's heart skips a beat. The Pikachu! shrieks her mind as the baby electric type manifests. The teenager's eyes widen, and she involuntarily lifts her hands up to cup her mouth and chin, tightening into herself as she does. "She's so cute..." the girl says into her fingers, the words coming out garrbled. Even Lamia has to smile softly at Buttercup, perhaps recalling a memory long passed. <I've got four,> the Ivysaur tells Fistfight, still keeping an eye on the Pikachu. <Three boys and a girl. Long ago, they're long gone, but... hold on for a second, dear.> Stomp stomp stomp! The Ivysaur trots a couple steps towards little Buttercup, extending her vines from their sheaths, slowly reaching for the little Pikachu. Oh no! Is she going to attack the baby? Should the Pikachu not run or should there be no outside interference, the Ivysaur will attempt to... tap the Pikachu on one shoulder. Then on the other. ... What is this, a game?

<OOC> Wesley says "If Buttercup steps away or in other words looks terribly frightened, would Lamia continue to try to touch her with the vines?"

<OOC> Melissa says "Definitely not."

<OOC> Wesley noddles.

As good as Lamia's intentions are, they don't quite work out. Buttercup's eyes widen and she steps back from the encroaching vines, her fur fluffing and her cheek pouches sparking, though she's obviously more scared than angry. Her backwards steps send her farther from the vines and the group. Wesley shifts his weight nervously as the Ekanslettes coil themselves around his wrists, used to slithering up their trainer as they are. "Uh, Fistfight," he says, looking to her. Of course, Wesley expects Fistfight to do the work. <All right, all right,> mutters the Machop. <Hey, hey, Buttercup, wanna see a trick?> she says in a quite false cheerful voice; after all, she wanted to talk to Lamia, not sit the kids, darnit. The Machop slips her blue blanket off her shoulders and holds it up in front of her. She's disappeared, ain't that neat? Buttercup doesn't think so. She sits up on her haunches and stares at Fistfight wide-eyed, her jaw slack in utter fright. Sweet Holy PikaGod. First her dad disappears, then two hands-that-aren't-hands try to grab her, and now Fistfight's been swallowed by a big blue monster! "Pi," she squeaks. Pause. "KaaaaaaaAAAAA!" Sure, she begins quietly, but the wail builds in intensity. Until - flash! Wesley recalls Buttercup, his face almost as red as the crimson recall beam. "S-sorry.." he mutters to the people looking his way, his words quite inaudible. Fistfight lowers her blanket with a sheepish grin up at Wesley and then at Lamia. <Whoops.> There's a pause as she turns back to Lamia, her face pensive, shaded with the past. <Me, I didn't want kids at the right time and it...heck, it didn't work out. But I got...gee, how to say it? One that makes up fer all of the ones I coulda had, if you get me.> She doesn't look at Wesley as she says this and smiles a tender, sad little smile, but he's there in her thoughts. Wesley is still recouperating from embarrassment, and doesn't resume his conversation with Melissa.

Lamia appears visibly disheartened as the Pikachu recoils, and uncomfortably she takes a quick glance at Fistfight, uncertain about what to do. Melissa seems oblivious to her Ivysaur's intentions - one minute she's talking about Oddishes, the next a Pikachu is shrieking, calling attention from nearby trainers. "Meeeeeeeeowth!" cries a nearby pokemon in response to the crying, though the feline is instantly shushed by his trainer. And then - fwoosh. Silence. "... What.... happened?" Melissa asks, her cheeks reddening slightly as though she had something to do with the Pikachu shrieking. Which she indirectly did, of course, but she doesn't realize that. "... Is she okay?" Holding in the urge to awww, Melissa adds, "Is she hungry?" Lamia, in the meantime, appears somewhat bewildered, definitely confused, and she seems distracted while Fistfight speaks. <Uh... yeah. Guess I follow you. My kids left when they were young, it's just how Bulbasaurs are, so it's funny you call your trainer your kid.> Quick pause. <But I understand what you're saying.> The last sentence seems like a quick cover up, a "don't take offense, I didn't mean any!".

"Oh, uh," Wesley stumbles in response to Melissa. The howling Meowth has him somewhat rattled, though not just because of the obvious shock value. Other people can control their shrieking pokemon without recalling them. Why can't he? "No, no, she wasn't hungry she just..missed her dad," Wesley says, shrugging a shoulder guiltily, glancing down at his feet before looking at the wall behind Melissa's head. He's oblivious to Melissa's feelings of 'awww'. "I was stupid, and let her out without Sparkheart. I should've known she'd get upset. But..I thought she'd be grown up enough to handle it. Maybe...guess I should've done it in..stages." Hindsight it twenty-twenty, Wesley. But it's good that he's thinking, it's really an encouraging sign. Fistfight is less rattled than her trainer; she's dealt with a crying Pikachu youngster before, albeit not quite so badly. <We'll know what to do for next time,> she announces kindly, talking to both Lamia and Wesley. <So, what'd yah name 'em? Your kids, I mean.> That's said to Lamia, definitely, and in a bit more of a cheerful mood. It seems she accepts the cover up with no questions asked. "Oddishes turn into Glooms," the pale kid says suddenly. Hey, Wesley is really using that brain, if he can remember back to a few moments ago! Good for you, kiddo.

Aie! Peppy and Aurora's puppies are headed for the database! Better save! (Saving)

Melissa can't help it. Oh, she tries. She seriously pulls into her chest, from the depths of her soul, with all of her heart, she tries to avoid it... and yet it comes anyway. "Ohhhhh!" She clutches her chest, blushing at her attitude but entirely helpless to it. "That is so sweet! Aww!" She's going to smack herself when she gets home, but for right now, it feels so right. Buttercup is such a little sweetheart! "Misses her daddy. That is so cute." Now, Lamia is, of course, charmed by the little shrieking infant, but she's more perplexed by the Pikachu's odd habits than "aww!"ed by her cuteness. <Misses her father? Huh! My kids didn't even know theirs... names? Oh... eh. It's been so long...> Lamia trails off, her voice descrecendoing into nothingness as her head drops to the floor, trying to recall the names. -Any- names. And failing.

Wesley gives Melissa a long stare. His face isn't confused, actually - there doesn't seem to be much emotion in there. He's a scientist, studying the alien lifeform that has taken over the usually shy and bookish girl he calls a friend. It's probably not encouraging to a girl who already feels silly enough. "Uh, I don't think it's cute," Wesley says slowly. "I..think I'll need to wean her off her father sometime. I mean, not now, since she obviously isn't ready for it. ..Maybe I should go back to Kanmou and ask the breeder there!" He sounds quite excited at the prospect, and a corner of his mouth lifts up in a smile. There's a brief interlude before Wesley's expression falls; now he looks guilty as he sneaks a glance at Melissa. "Of course, uh, I'll...do you know the breeder I talked to won some badges? I could ask her about how her battles went, and stuff." See, he's hiding his interest in Kanmou in front of the girl who believes he'll be a Pokemon Master some day. That's surprisingly devious of Wesley. And it might just be completely incomprehensible to Melissa. Fistfight frowns a bit, but not at Lamia's unwillingness to come up with a name - her frown is one of thought. <I always liked the name...what was it? Ahah! Hah. Got it, got it: Chopblock. Because, Machop, they can break boards with their hands with their Karate Chop attack.> Now we know who thinks up all the dual-word names for Wesley's team! The secret is revealed! <And...> Fistfight considers what else Lamia said, <well, I ain't sure how Machop do the pairing off thing in the wild, since I was born in a Breeding Center, but I never knew my pa. Can't say I suffered. But some pokemon do it different, you know?>

Melissa doesn't dismiss her cheesy smile even as Wesley stares long and hard at her, partially because she doesn't expect him to think it's cute, but also because it's not like she can help her girlish habits. "... If you're... hee. Um, if you're heading out to the breeders... soon... maybe, uh, maybe I could come with you? W-will we go... soon? Tomor..." The smile finally fades, and the teenager rotates her head, peering through the glass walls of the pokemon center before turning it to the clock on the wall. "Wow," she mutters softly, caught up for a moment in time... before quickly and rather spontaneously buttoning up her coat. Hey, only two buttons to do - shouldn't be that hard. "I've... I've got to get home! Mom and dad will worry... they... um... ... do you have your winter clothes with you?" Her voice goes from panicked and worried to entirely serene as she asks Wesley. She's hint hinting for the boy to walk with her, of course, but half of her expects he won't pick it up. But Wesley has surprised her before... Pulling out a pokeball, Melissa lets Lamia get in a couple words before recalling her. <Chopblock?> Lamia repeats, cocking her big blue head slightly. <Chopblock... Fistfight... Chopblock... both very nice names. I don't really care for mine. Lamia doesn't rol-> Fwoosh! And she gets recalled before she can insult the name Melissa took -weeks- to think up.

Wesley's stoney stare softens into thoughtfulness. Will he go tomorrow? "It's a long walk," he mutters, the 'V' of his eyebrows drawing closer to his nose as he scrunches up his face in thought. "Maybe the bus, I guess..." he says, before trailing off as he notices Melissa buttoning up her coat. The trainer's eyes widen slightly at his friend's reference to her parents...and his face falls flat at her question. He even slouches a tad. "Yes," he answers, as if this is the most obvious answer in the world to the most confusing question of all time. Why would she just ask something out of the blue like that? Speaking of blue, Fistfight lets her blue pal try out the name, and her smile broadens slightly at the compliment. Fistfight opens her mouth to respond to Lamia, but blinks in surprise as the girl recalls her. A shrug is given, before she swings her blanket over her shoulders. <Well, getcher stuff, Wes, we're walking Melissa back!> "..We...are?" Wesley says, looking down at his Machop. <Well, sure, it's what she wanted.> Fistfight teases her boy with a pause before adding, <Since she brought up your outdoor clothes and all.> Wesley peers between Melissa and Fistfight, wary and puzzled. "Girls," he mutters, not even the Ekanses on his arms able to hear his soft remark. Wesley musters for Melissa a brief, bewildered little smile. "I'll go get my coat."