Contents:
Wesley
Obvious exits:
Way around City <WAC> leads to Pokemon Route 3: Pewter City.
North <N> leads to Pewter City: Southern Pewter.
South <S> leads to Viridian Forest - Route 2: Almost Out.

Fair weather clouds sail across the blue sky, propelled by light breezes from the west. It's warm in the sun, cool in the shade, and the air is clear and dry. In the forest, the wind rustles the bright green leaves of trees and bushes and carries Oddish pollen, downy seeds, and the fragrance of wildflowers along with it. While at the coast, the ocean is a deep cool blue today, the waves lapping at the coast gently under the pleasant spring sky.

The words are hard to read. The light breeze, an unyielding force pressing from the west, sneaks its way under each and every page, pushing it upwards to stand entirely straight for one glorious moment before tumbling down upon the thumbs that hold the book open. Were this to happen at a more leisurely pace, no doubt Melissa would be quite pleased at the wind, for she could twiddle her right hand around in her hair, running her fingers down the long light brown strands as they sway in the wind, instead of having to continuously strip themselves free of the tangled mess to turn to the next page. As it stands, however, the "fierce" wind isn't quite so convenient, and, struggling to hold the book with both hands on it, Melissa grumbles every so often at how poor her choice was to wander out into this weather simply to read. She rests upon "her" rock, a large boulder just on the outskirts of town.

There happens to be a bit of action a good many yards down the road. Should Melissa not be as absorbed in the book as is her wont, she might hear the ringing of voices from the path up ahead. One is a human voice, barely audible over the wind, but the others are high-pitched and piercing for all their cheeriness. If Melissa squints, she'll see a sight: a Hitmonchan crouches low to the ground, beside which crouches a small Pikachu, a nervous Bulbasaur, a grinning Charmander, an eager male Nidoran, a wrinkled old Machop and a Drowzee (though at this distance, all they look like is a large blob of brown, with smaller blobs of yellow, pink, orange, green and yellow, with an upright grey form with a blonde head). Closer to the action, all pokemon are crouched in sprinter positions, or on their fours, according to their respective species, and they rest parallel to the road. For now. Until the blonde-haired Wesley Brier shouts his command from the sidelines. "Annnnd...go!" The Hitmonchan rushes forward, closely followed by the Pikachu and the Nidoran, the other four trailing behind with the Drowzee at the rear, looking decidedly annoyed at the whole exercise. They happen to be heading towards Melissa, coincidentally.

A horn juts out from behind the rock. Two clawed purple paws grip desperately onto the rock, and, squealing his mews vigorously, Puff pulls his head into view, struggling to climb the boulder through the wind, through his slight chubbiness, through his feet more adapted to grasslands than rocky terrain. "Muff, mew, nidooo!" he grunts to himself as with one final pull hoists himself onto the rock. With a proud smile, he erects his stance, sticks his head up high to the sky, and lets out a proud declaration of his impending power. <I made it!> Melissa twitches visibly, casually glancing over at her purple pokemon. She sets her book down on her side, careful to keep it out of the way of the wind. "Made what?" she asks softly, lifting her hand up to adjust her glasses, which do a remarkable job of staying stuck to her face despite the gusts. Puff doesn't reply to his trainer, however; his eyes have locked onto something else. A party of pokemon and people approach, and Puff appears puzzled as he peers. Some of the pokemon are rushing towards him quickly, and even from this distance they look awfully familiar ... at least, one or two of them.

Bright colors, sweetness, and light! Candylion-springtimes! (We're saved!)

<I'm gonna win!> yelps Spike the rabbitmon, flattening his pincushion body close to the ground. <Nuh uh,> replies Buttercup with a giggle. It looks like neither of them is going to win, however - the Hitmonchan isn't even using her Agility attack and she's already gained some ground on her smaller opponents. <Wait up, guys!> calls Leochardo, apparently unclear on the sophisticated concept of racing. Behind him comes Fistfight, who seems determined to bring skipping back into style. <Was yer momma a Slowpoke?> she queries behind her. <...My mommy was a Bulbasaur,> the Bulbasaur, behind Fistfight, responds cluelessly. <Er, sorry Greenform, I was talkin' to the Drowzee,> Fistfight amends. <Why don't you just--> ThoughtThief snaps. "Keep moving," comes Wesley's quick but not terribly forceful order. <Just following your example, kid,> the Drowzee grumbles, nodding to the human who is going little faster than the pudgy psychic. Wesley takes this in for a few seconds, before shrugging and setting into a jog that only moves him ahead of Greenform. Quickstrike the Hitmonchan, meanwhile, has noticed the human and pokemon up ahead - while they're not going to run right into Melissa and her rock, it looks like she and the group will pass by in a good few seconds.

Puff's been grunting and grumbling and making pointless noises all day (<Melissa! Melissa! Look at that flower! A petal got blown off because it's so windy today!>), so when Puff peers into the distance at something that interests him, his curiosity goes largely ignored. Melissa occupies herself by reading the back of the book's cover. <Melissa! Look! Something's coming!> "Mmm." <Look! Look!> "Mmmm..." Now annoyed at his trainer's ignorance, Puff glares at her, his cheeks flowering into a deep red. Angrily, he stomps over to her, and prods her in the arm with his horn - not hard, but enough to let her know that this is really important! Melissa jerks her hand away with a gasp before staring at Puff like he's crazy. Instead of offering an apology as Melissa expects, the Nidoran simply gestures widely in the direction of Wesley's jogging party. And finally, the girl looks up. Using her right hand to remove the blowing hair from her eyes, she stares for a moment, glances down at her pick, and picks it up with her left hand as she gets up from the rock. She locks her eyes on the jogging boy, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, but otherwise does not move.

Oh, not all of Wesley's pokemon are jogging. Quickstrike the Hitmonchan rushes by a good few feet to the left side of Melissa's rock in a brown blur with a bullet's speed. Buttercup the Pikachu, still behind Wesley's top fighter, slows down at the sight of the human. Are other humans part of this 'race'? A little bell goes off in her mind as she realizes she knows this human - as she comes up to Melissa, she slows down and moves away from the impromptu race track to inspect the human, her little chest heaving in and out. <H-hey, whydja stop? You hurt?> Spike questions as he moves after Buttercup, trying unsuccessfully to stop his panting. <Are you...uh, hey, you're...you're Wesley's best friend!> he exclaims suddenly, once he's taken note of the human. His ears perk and his nose begins frantically wiggling, the action cutely imitated by his electric type friend. <And you're...oh, a Nidoran, right?> Spike asks in a friendly way, now spotting Puff on the rock beside his human. Wesley, meanwhile, still lags behind with Leochardo, Fistfight and ThoughtThief. He's engaged in a conversation with the fighting type (she gestures with great animation), and the youngster has a soft smile on his pale face.

The little pokemon chirrupping at Melissa's feet cause visible shock to run through her body, and she peers down at the Nidoran and Pikachu as though she didn't notice them approach. She gasps very slightly, but her worries quickly dissipate when she sees the harmlessness of the little creatures. Though the Pikachu has her baffled, Melissa understands the Nidoran just fine, though his comment causes her to prick up her eyebrows. "... Wesley's friend?" she repeats, slowly raising her head to once again take a look at the approaching human. Her assumptions were correct; that's Wesley in the distance. Without another glance at the two pokemon at her feet, Melissa dashes forward, waving her book around in the hair to catch Wesley's attention. "Wesley! Wesley!" she cries. Puff, in the meantime, peers after her, before shaking his head and glancing down at the Pikachu from her perch on top of the rock. <Don't mind her.> He now glares at Spike, and, with almost a sort of caution, the male Nidoran drops from the boulder, tensing up as his paws smash into the dirty ground. He regards Spike with a head lift - not exactly threatening, but prepared to defend himself if it's a fight Spike wants. Stupid testosterone.

<And then,> Fistfight continues, <yer pa's Pidgeot--> "Dad had a Pidgeot?" Wesley questions, surprised. <Did I say...naw, I meant that big bird thing, with the wings and the beak.> "Fearow?" <Yeah!> Fistfight says, giggling and skipping extra hard. Wesley frowns doubtfully. <Hey, kid,> ThoughtThief calls, and Wesley looks backwards to see Greenform, panting and gasping as if his next breath is his last. Now he frowns in annoyance. And then...he hears his name called. The boy tilts his head, thinking it might be his imagination, before he looks around. And who should appear before his grey eyes? The youngster stops running, now able to make out the form of his friend. "Oh!" he says, eyebrows raising in surprise. "Uh..." His hands go to his belt, and he hits the button of a pokeball. A flash of red light shoots from him, recalling Leochardo. "Ooops," Wes mumbles, before finding the correct pokeball and hitting it, this time recalling the Bulbasaur, who is seemingly in much more dire straights. The boy then waves back to Melissa and walks toward her at a more leisurely pace, a smile lighting up his face.

Well. Puff expected more of a reaction from Spike, maybe a growl and a glare as they beat their chests (figuratively speaking) and prove who's the manly man. Puff's at "that age". Spike, however, seems well-inclined to simply be friends, so perhaps Puff will just drop his macho man act - at least, for a while now. <Melissa's, you mean?> he replies, correcting Spike, but not in a knowing or condescending fashion. He nods his head a couple times, turning his cheek to glance at her. <... Yeah, I am. Are you Melissa's best friend's pokemon?> Melissa doesn't stop when she gets within speaking distance of Wesley. Wesley probably expects a handshake, a smile, a greeting, but he will most likely be surprised - for better or for worse is difficult to guess. Should Wesley not run away shrieking or dive to the ground in fear, Melissa will simply crash herself right into Wesley, wrapping her arms around him in a great big loving hug. Should she succeed, she'll proceed to spew out little "I missed you so much!"s and "You finally came back!"s and "Here you are!"s.

Bright colors, sweetness, and light! Candylion-springtimes! (We're saved!)

Fair weather clouds sail across the blue sky, propelled by light breezes from the west. It's warm in the sun, cool in the shade, and the air is clear and dry.

Spike is a young and cheerful sort, and looks quite happy to listen to a fellow Nidoran. He hasn't seen many in his travels! <Oh, that's her name? Yeah, then you're Melissa's pokemon. ..She's Melissa,> he adds to Buttercup, pointing out the trainer rather unnecessarily - sometimes he slips up and thinks of her as a baby. Buttercup doesn't seem to mind, and kindly says, <Ahhhhh, I've got it now. Our trainer's name is Wesley.> She giggles sweetly. <Human names are so funny, huh?> As for Wesley, he doesn't dive to the ground in fear when Melissa springs at him. He just looks quite /surprised/ - eyebrows up, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Wesley in ensnared in the hug, his expression frozen...before he shuts his mouth and grins. Slightly and shyly. "Uh, h-hi, Melissa.." he murmurs. He raises up one hand and sneaks it around her back. Only his wrist and the lower part of his palm provide any sort of (slight) contact with her in his clumsy half-hug. The boy says nothing else - maybe he assumes Melissa will speak over him anyway, or maybe the hug is taking up all his concentration. Still, Wesley's learning. And Fistfight is <awwwww>ing. And ThoughtThief is gagging. And Quickstrike is...say, where'd she go off to?

Melissa eventually retreats away from the hug, though if Wesley will allow she'll keep her hands clasped in his. Her smile is wide and bright, and she doesn't bother to shove aside the hair that clings to her glasses and to her face. "I haven't seen you in so long!" she exclaims loudly, her hands squeezing tight. She no longer holds her book; she must have dropped it while she hugged Wesley. "How have you been? Where have you been? Did you see your dad? How are your pokemon? Where's your baby Pikachu?" All of this is launched rapid-fire; Melissa stutters here and there, but she's speaking so quickly that it's almost unnoticable. Back with more Puffination, the Nidoran now regards the Pikachu with a sort of curiosity, and he nods to her slightly. <Melissa talks about Wesley all the time,> he informs her, though his eyes widen slightly as though this is supposed to be something he's proud of. <And I don't know. Puff isn't... quite a normal name, either.> He turns back to the other Nidoran, fully expecting the younger one to be laughing his head off at his name.

The second Melissa makes the move to free him, Wesley's formerly raised hand begins to lower, but the boy does allow her to hold his hands, actually. His brain is too busy trying to figure out the answers to her questions; it doesn't really know what's going on with his body. "Me? Oh, ah, I've been fine. Traveling and training. I've had to put on sunscreen lately, you know, so I won't burn. I burn easily. Went to Neon a few times and -- oh, yeah, I went to Habari again!" Finally, something that's not so trivial. "And my pokemon are good." <'Cept that one,> Fistfight interjects with a grin, nodding to - who else? - the pudgy, petty psychic. <He forgot to mention you're dying by the second and your mind is going even faster,> ThoughtThief snarks back. "Oh shut up," Wesley says, obviously in response to his Drowzee, but he's entirely too cheerful to have given ThoughtThief's comment much thought. Fistfight has, but doesn't bother to glare at him. What's the use? "And Buttercup is right here--" "Pika!" "--she, uh, she grew up." He doesn't say this in an insulting way - he sounds proud. <I dunno if Wesley talks 'bout Melissa much,> Spike muses. <He doesn't to me. And...Puff?> The Nidoran and Pikachu both peer at him for a second. <Sounds nice,> Buttercup says, reacting faster and more kindly than Spike with his <Uh, yeah,> and his sympathetic look.

Melissa greedily absorbs all of Wesley's information, from the most minute detail to the most important part, her eyes wide as though Wesley is the most important being in the entire world. There's a giant smile on her face, and her eyes sparkle behind her glasses. "That's wonderful to hear!" she replies, with no trace of exaggeration present in her voice. "Perhaps you and I should... um, you know, go to Habari together sometime. And..." She blushes faintly here, shrugging her shoulders helplessly even as she still holds his hands. "... Bring our own lunches." Puff, in the meanwhile, is pleasantly surprised (and quite relieved) to hear the other pokemon accept his name without a qualm, and he smiles happily as he shifts his weight from side to side. <Did you give me your names?> he asks, his voice cheerful and no longer carrying even the smallest trace of over-masculinity. <If you did, I didn't hear them.>

Purple, gold, and vermillion clouds grace the western sky as the sun descends toward the west.

Wesley chuckles softly at Melissa's words about bringing lunches, the sound a low "hmmhmm!"-type noise. Smiles are as contagious as yawns, and Wesley can't help it when one breaks over his face. It's not quite as broad as Melissa's, but it's nothing to scoff at, either. "Maybe," he says, though he doesn't sound like overly enthusiastic. "I hope it's not too dangerous," he adds thoughtfully. "Last time I went, there were these bug things called Mooches...they had no legs and were purple and red and had a great big ring of pointy teeth and two little eye-stalk things...and they almost bit through the containers we put them in." His mouth begins a downward descent into a frown, but soon springs back into a smile. "I didn't like them much, but I'm sure there are some nicer pokemon on Habari than Mooches." There's a slight pause as Wesley checks with his brain for his next bit of dialogue. "..How've you been? Did...uh, you open the third present yet?" Here he coughs slightly, and makes as if to move his hand for some reason - but it's only then that he realizes his hands are being held, however loosely. A heavy brow hovers upwards as Wesley clears his throat again, his eyes sliding to and fixing on a point next to Melissa's head. <I'm Spike, this is Buttercup and...oh, that's Quickstrike,> Spike says quickly. Sure enough, Quickstrike is jogging back to the group, her eyes narrowed. <Havin' fun?> ThoughtThief calls, with a sneer.

Bright colors, sweetness, and light! Candylion-springtimes! (We're saved!)

Melissa's attention is focused entirely upon Wesley as he continues talking, and as he mentions Mooches, her eyebrows lift slightly, as though curious. "Such strange... things they have on that island, huh?" she asks softly, finally freeing up poor Wesley's hand to run her hand through her long wind-worn hair. "They, um, they're coming out with books about the, uh, the new Habari pokemon, though they're... a little expensive. Wonder if the library..." She trails off for a mumble, turning her head to the side, silently mouthing some words to herself. "Oh, I've been... all right. Cold, I guess." She shrugs her shoulders, and sighs into the wind. "Hm? Gift?" She pauses for a second, before pricking her head up in realization. "Oh! Um... no, not yet... still waiting for... I don't know, something, I guess..." Smart.

Hand freed, the boy slips both of his from hers; they remain half-raised in front of him for a few seconds before they come slowly to rest at his sides. Every now and then one of his fingers fidgets. "Well, libraries don't get new books for a good while," the boy comments, somewhat sadly. Wesley does look surprised as Melissa mentions her lack of gift-opening, and Fistfight gets a puzzled look as she glances between the two humans. "Uh...it wasn't too much, was it?" the kid asks worriedly, repeating a question he had on their last meeting. "Because, uhm, I guess if you wanted to wait until next Christmas to open it, that'd be fine." He perks up slightly, face clearing of its clouds. "It'd work out really well, actually," he says, with a short smile. Maybe Wesley has honed his abilities to work on mystery and suspense, for he doesn't elaborate. <Nice way for me to win a race, when everyone stops running,> Quickstrike huffs, coming onto the scene. Wesley blinks at her, having forgotten her existence. <I play to win, but I wanna win fair, got it?> she demands, her gaze switching from each pokemon present, then to her trainer, and finally to...Melissa. Quickstrike blinks, and then rolls her eyes and groans. <Why her? Why now? Why when I was having fun?> <Aw, poor baby,> ThoughtThief drawls. <Uh, yeah, that's Quickstrike,> Spike whispers to Puff. <She's...a bit weird at times.> Buttercup is nice enough to say nothing.

The orange-red sun sinks below the western horizon, leaving a darkening tapestry of purple and red-gold clouds behind it.

"Yeah," Melissa agrees softly, slowly turning to face the sleeping city of Pewter, settling down for a cold night. "... Especially ours." She turns back to him almost curiously, raising her arms to cross her chest. The wind is picking up slightly, and the air is getting cool; Melissa is ill-dressed for the weather, though she seems to be coping okay. "Maybe... I will soon," she replies to himself, smiling slightly. "But I want you to be there." Her voice almost seems a little more firm; she's still the uncertain, stuttering girl she's always been, but it's almost as though she's actively trying to hide this fact. Puff, however, has long since discarded his tough guy persona, and he's chatting it up oh-so-cheerfully with his pokepals. <You guys were having a race?> he asks excitedly, turning his head to look at each of the pokemon around him. <Are you very fast?> he inquires of the other Nidoran with a small smile.

Wesley doesn't respond immediately to Melissa. "Quickstrike," he says reproachfully, "this is Melissa. Be nice." He raises his chin, trying to emphasize the nearly negligible size difference between himself and his pokemon. Quickstrike's eyes narrow even more and her gloves tighten. <You're not worth me punching you out,> she hisses, though her tension doesn't abate. Wesley's brows furrow in shock and wariness. <I love it when you guys think I'm the only one who doesn't respect him,> ThoughtThief comments cheerfully. <Okay, take a time out, cool it down,> Fistfight begins, keeping only the slightest edge of authority in her genial tone. Spike is distracted from Puff's question by the ensuing ruckus. <Oh, he's very fast,> Buttercup assures Puff, <But not quite as fast as me. Daddy says it's because Pikachu were born to be fast, like lightning. 'Cept he rhymed,> she adds, pride in her tone. <Just ball me,> Quickstrike grumps. Wesley frowns at her, before tapping a pokeball on his belt - Quickstrike is recalled in a flash of scarlet. It's only then that he turns back to his friend. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch what you said after what you said about your library...?" he murmurs apologetically.

Oranges, reds, and golds light the fair weather clouds, shadowed in purple, around the setting sun. A soft breeze blows from the west.

Melissa turns to face the Hitmonchan as she comes near, but she can only blink at first. This pokemon is almost as big as I am, Melissa thinks with some shock, cuddling further into herself. If she's seen this pokemon before, she doesn't recognize her. "Um... hi," she says softly to Quickstrike, turning back to Wesley as though unsure of what to do. Unfortunately, Wesley is no help; he wasn't even listening. "It was nothing," she mumbles to herself, shifting his shoulders up a bit. "Um... it's a little... cold. You, um... you want to go back to town? Before, you know, before it's too dark?" She removes her arms for a second to adjust her glasses further up her nose, and smiles uncertainly. Puff turns to Buttercup, his head cocked suspiciously. <Rhymed?> he repeats, shaking his head at the foreign word. <What does that mean? That he's fast?> Hey, it makes sense in Puff's thick-headed little world.

Brindled clouds conceal a few patches of starlit sky.

"It's cold?" Wesley repeats. The breeze doesn't much bother the boy, as he's wearing a light grey turtleneck and jeans. If anything, he has trouble with the hot weather preceding nightfall. "I, well, I mean, if you want to, then...sure." He sounds disappointed. Why does night have to fall so early? Why now? Why when he's having fun? "..You didn't say that the present was too much, did you?" he asks suddenly. "Because if you did, you can tell me. I wouldn't mind. I'm not sure if I got the receipt for it or not, but...I might've." Looks like this is really preying on his mind. Buttercup blinks at Puff, before her long ears perk in realization. <Oh, no! Rhyming. It's...uh...> She knows what it is, she just can't describe it. <It's, it's when you say...> Spike begins. <It's when you act like a great big jerk, because talking normally is too much work,> snerks ThoughtThief, taking a few steps closer to the rodent trio. Buttercup's cheek pouches spark and her fur ruffles. <Don't talk about Daddy like that!> she Growls. Spike gives Buttercup a quick glance before saying easily to Puff, <That's ThoughtThief, and he's mean.> <Uh huh!> seconds Fistfight. Nobody says anything about Buttercup's Growl - unsurprisingly, others attacking ThoughtThief is commonplace on Wesley's team.

Bright colors, sweetness, and light! Candylion-springtimes! (We're saved!)

"It's freezing," Melissa responds with a definite nod, lifting her head up to regard the blowing with with a frown. "Maybe just to... the center, or my house or something." She glances down at her hands now, pauses for a second, and drops her gaze to the ground. "My book... my book, where is it?" But it's simply right there at her feet, and Melissa drops down to pick it up. "Amazing it didn't... blow away," she mumbles softly, needlessly brushing it off a bit. "I, um... didn't see it, not yet. Just saving it for when I'm... bored, or... you know, want to think of you or... something..." A frown creeps onto Melissa's face, and she turns away from Wesley so she can attempt to hide her fierce blush, which seems to drag far into her mouth. Her embarrassment is not felt by Puff, who seems rather excited at the thought of a battle between Buttercup and ThoughtThief. <Wow! Do you guys fight often?> he asks cheerfully, switching attention back and forth between the pokemon. They're going to attack each other, he just -knows- it! And it's going to be cool, too!

Wesley's grey eyes lock onto Melissa throughout all her actions and words, their gaze is intense as he tries to read her body-language like he would a book. But, as usual, Melissa is a volume in a foreign tongue - he only relaxes when she spells out the gift situation for him. "Oh," he says faintly. "Ah, thanks." He musters a brief smile, but it's rather easy to tell he's still a bit unsure about something in her words. "And I'd love to walk you back to your house. Uh, does it have flowers yet? I remember it having flowers. ..Purple, I think." Perhaps reminded by their last meeting and the flowers it involved, Wesley's smile becomes more sincere, his eyes filling with soft moonlight. <We spar together from time to time,> Fistfight says loudly, coming between ThoughtThief and Buttercup. <But we /don't/ attack each other. ...'Least not 'cuz of something stupid the fatmon said. We just learn to ignore him.> She gives ThoughtThief a brilliant smile. </I'd/ fight with him, if I didn't know he could beat me with those mind attacks he's got,> Spike grumpily whispers to Puff. He gives the rabbitmon a glance. <You fight lots?> he asks cheerfully.

"Oh... flowers?" she repeats, still not looking at Wesley. Not until that burning sensation in her cheeks dissipates. "No, not yet, though mom said she'd... start planting this weekend." Though Wesley won't see it, Melissa does smile softly. She runs her hand through her hair. "... That probably means she'll make me and dad do it in a month or two." She giggles softly as she turns back to Wesley. The light redness in her cheeks no longer looks like she's humiliated; rather, it brings color to her face, adds a little rosiness to her otherwise rather white skin. "Come on, Puff!" She calls to her Nidoran, turning to face him. <In a minute!> is the response Melissa receives. The poison type turns back to Fistfight, nodding rapidly. <Sparring sounds like fun!> he comments with genuine interest. <Melissa doesn't do that. Can you make Wesley make her? I really want to try it!> He's talking to Fistfight in particular, possibly perceiving her as the oldest (and hence, most influencing?) of the ground.

Once again, Wesley lets loose with one of his low, vague chuckles. "I'd...be happy to help you guys plant flowers. I don't know how to garden, but maybe I could help...somehow." Despite the inherent uncertainty of his words, his tone contains traces of eagerness. He'd get to meet her family again, without all that uncomfortable Christmas-y atmosphere! <Melissa doesn't do it?> Fistfight repeats, a bit surprised. She's been with Wesley too long; however, she soon re-accepts the idea that not all trainers make their pokemon spar with each other. <Well 'course I'll talk to him about it!> Fistfight says, with a reassuring nod of her head. "Talk to me about--" <Tell you in a bit!> Fistfight says quickly. It's not too reassuring for Puff, but she doesn't want to burden her trainer with making such a big social suggestion this late. <That'd be neat! We could compare our moves!> Spike enthuses, and Buttercup responds with a happy, <Yeah! And I could show you mine. .. 'Course, I can't do all of them perfectly,> she admits. "Are you ready to go now, Puff?" Wesley asks of the pokemon, sneaking a glance at Melissa to make sure she hasn't started walking away. If she has, of course he'll hurry to follow.

"Really?" Melissa asks curiously, coyly turning her head to glance at him out of the corner of her eyes. She seems surprised, perhaps from the thought of Wesley gardening. A warm smile does come onto her face after a moment, and she smiles warmly at Wesley. "I'd like that, Wesley," she comments to him. Turning back to Puff, who doesn't seem ready to go yet, she sighs and strips a pokeball off of her belt. "Puff..." she warns. He glances at her, blinks, and quickly snaps to attention. <Okay I'd like that but we gotta go gotta be near Melissa thanks guys bye!> And with a dash, Puff is right beside Melissa's legs. Hey, walking is better than sitting in that stuffy pokeball all day long, right? <Well, let's go!> he announces to his trainer, who simply rolls her eyes good naturedly and grins back at Wesley. "Are your pokemon ready?" she asks.

Wesley doesn't care exactly what he does as long as he gets to do it with Melissa. Besides, he hasn't been brushing up on his Masculine Stereotypes lately, and so has no real qualm with the idea of gardening. At least gardening doesn't involve something totally girly, like squealing over cute pokemon or somesuch thing. <You're welcome,> says Spike to Puff in surprise. <Bye!> Buttercup calls, only to blink when she realizes that Puff hasn't moved that far at all. "They're fi--" Wesley begins, before looking behind him and eyeing ThoughtThief. The Drowzee sighs. <I promise not to go on a murderous rampage and start eating babies...no matter how much I might want to.> <You're sick,> sniffs Fistfight, muttering a disgusted <eating babies, yuck!> Spike and Buttercup shift and grumble amongst themselves as ThoughtThief adds 'dead baby jokes' to the list of things that annoy his teammates. "They're fine," Wesley confirms flatly. He gives Melissa a slight grin, before taking a few steps towards town. His eyes don't leave her face as the thumb of his left hand absently rubs over his fingers as he watches his friend with eyes made silver by starlight.

Bright colors, sweetness, and light! Candylion-springtimes! (We're saved!)

A cool breeze blows from the west, driving dark clouds before it which blot out the stars in patches overhead. Elsewhere they glitter brightly in the dark sapphire sky.

Melissa watches Wesley's pokemon while the boy speaks, and she smiles to herself as they talk to each other. It's almost as if she doesn't notice the gagging and disgusted actions of the non-Drowzee pokemon. "I guess they are," she comments, turning back to Wesley. Her pace matches his as he walks along, and she does not look down to make sure Puff is following. "I think mom would... like you to help. You know, she... really liked it when you, uh... you know, stopped by for Christmas. Adrienne liked ya... too." <Wouldn't stop talking about you,> Puff mutters under his breath. When Melissa glares down at him, preparing to scold him, he stops walking for a moment, long enough to peer up at her with wide innocent eyes and whimper a soft <I'm sorry!> Melissa can't help but snort out a soft noise of amusement at this, and, shaking her head, she turns her attention back to the front.

Wesley's pace is easy - he's in no hurry to get anywhere. Fistfight walks beside him, while Buttercup and Spike keep their own counsel, chatting and ear-flicking and bouncing as they move; ThoughtThief stays at the back of the group, as if moving more than a step a minute would destroy his poor tender tootsies. "...Oh," Wesley murmurs to Melissa, his voice possibly unheard by the girl, just as Puff's comment is unheard by him. He knows (though sometimes he feels guilty that) he's important to Melissa, but to hear that in some way he favourably impacted those who are even more important to her than he could ever be is just...Wesley doesn't have a word for it. It's like some part of him wants to feel happy and proud, but he can't quite let himself because of a multitude of small guilts (that he didn't talk more to Mrs. Barlette at the dinner, Adrienne wouldn't like him so much if he'd known how nervous he was around her, etc.). However, he does manage to find some words. "I'm...sure my dad would like you too, if he could meet you," Wesley says softly, his eyes going to the ground for a few seconds before lifting up again to gaze at Pewter. If Thomas Brier ever came home, Wesley might actually stand a chance of finding out whether his statement is true or not.

Melissa, on the other hand, seems more than well inclined to hurry along, and she intentionally keeps her pace one step ahead of Wesley's, perhaps to give him a hint to her impatience. When he speaks, however, she immediately falls back to his side, and grants him her full attention as he speaks. A warm smile grows onto her face as he speaks to her, and she glances down at the ground for a second, watching the pebbles tumble across the darkened path. "I hope... you're right, Wesley," she replies softly, throwing in a sigh for good measure. "I really hope you are." Melissa lifts her head to take in a deep breath of the cool night's air. Perhaps there will be time for talking tomorrow, or perhaps the friends will take late into the night, or perhaps they will not see each other for some time yet. But now she can hear his breath over the wind, see his arms and legs move out of the corner of her eye, and even in the piecing wind and darkening gloom, she feels something even her cozy, happy little home can't give her - a sense of the purest comfort that only he can give her.