Obvious exits:
Northeast <NE> leads to Commerce Road - Route 7: Trader Way.
Southwest <SW> leads to Celadon City: Eastern Entrance.

Chilly rain falls from a grey sky. It's bleak and raw. The wind blows from the east. In the forest, raindrops patter against the leaves, and glisten like silver beads on their fiery vermillion and gold surfaces. The wet tree trunks have darkened from grey to brown. While at the coast, the sea matches the miserable grey sky as the rain splashes down onto its white-capped waves.

Sly arrives from Commerce Road - Route 7: Trader Way.
Sly has arrived.

<look Sly>

It's so cold out here, it's a wonder it's not snowing.

It's so cold out here, it's a wonder it's not snowing. Sly is crouched (in the mud) next to his (muddy) motorcycle. The darned thing isn't working (again); it's probably the mud. With a silent and frustrated snarl at the engine, the teen stands up. He has his leather jacket on and zipped, but his hair and his jeans are wet through. And muddy. It's still August, not even fall yet, so why is he cold? Damned weather. Well, when life turns against you and there are no girls around, there's only one comfort left to turn to. The teen gets a couple of paper bags out of his bike's saddlebags and heads away from the route. He sloshes through the mud as he tries to get out of sight of the road. And if someone tries to steal his bike? Let them have the bloody thing, let them be cursed by it.

<OOC> Peppy snickers, but makes sure not to point and laugh. "Does Sly have any food on himself or on the motorcycle, by any chance? Especially burgers?"

<OOC> Sly says "The bags are full of food and drink. Not burgers though, roast beef sandwiches, chips, sweet snacks."

<OOC> Peppy nods and expected that, but didn't want to draw assumptions. Thanks.

<OOC> Sly says "None left on the bike, he took it all with him. And welcome!"

The waterlogged pup gradually slows his pace until he comes to a complete stop right inside a very large puddle. All four of his paws submerged under the dirty water, Peppy takes this opportunity to... shake himself dry. As though that's really going to help him in weather like this. Dirty water goes flying through the air, splashing into the mud on the ground with a sickening little splat noise. With a tail flicker, a glare at the sky, and a little growled, <I hate rain!> (not his first complaint of the day, undoubtedly), the Growlithe continues his quest to find something to eat. About three seconds after shaking, he's just as wet as he was before he dried himself. ... Yeah, rain really bites. Less and less is the pup caring about finding food, and more and more is he considering getting *dry*. Unfortunately, the Caravan Pass was never very good in the tree department. Peppy comes to another stop (yet again inside a muddy puddle), turning his head all the way around to see how far it is to the den. Maybe he should just give up, go home, and -take a nap-. The Growlithe hasn't noticed Sly yet, but for crying out loud, the Rocket's carrying food - Peppy and his black hole stomach are bound to notice him eventually.

A tree, a tree, that's all Sly needs. Someplace dry to sit. And eat. His stomach rumbles, causing the teen to frown. Maybe he should eat standing up. Maybe he should just sit in the mud. Could he get any muddier and less dry? ...well, probably. Sly's hands form fists, but with his fingers closed around the tops of the bags it can hardly be noticed; only the flexing of the muscles in his arms might be seen ... assuming there was someone out here to see, which there isn't. Other than pokemon. Sigh. Sly moves to the far side of a large bush, placing it between the wind and himself. It's not dry, but it's the best he can find right now. He crouches down and sits on his heels, then plops the bags down into the mud. Unlike Peppy, Sly at least avoids puddles. From one he pulls out his big sandwich, mood brightening some at the very nearness of the food. The Rocket unwraps the plastic cover from it and takes a big, ripping bite. His eyes close for a moment as he chews, letting the food soothe him.

The pup's range of vision is approximately ten feet thanks to the weather. He can't see the den. This is a bad thing, as it means that the pup is now considerably *lost*. Peppy couldn't find his way out of a paper bag, no less through the wild when it's windy and rainy. Taking a really, really deep sniff, the canine pokemon tries to perhaps just barely pick up his mate's scent - that might help him out. No, he doesn't smell Aurora - but he does smell food. Lots of food. The pup whiplashes his head in Sly's general direction, growling a very curious <What's that?> to himself. Even louder, however, is the growl his tummy makes. Looks like the smell's reminding Peppy just how hungry he really is. Sure, it doesn't smell like burgers, berries, or Rattatas, but it still smells great nonetheless. Filled with a sudden burst of joy, Peppy springs off of his back paws and splashsplashsplashes through mud, sending the muck just flying all over bushes, shrugs, and himself. He's going to look more like a Grimer than a Growlithe after this day is over. He's following the smell of the food and is much too distracted by that to even detect the presence of the human *holding* the food, so unless Sly's very well hidden, Peppy will likely bound right up to him... quite possibly kicking up mud all over the poor Rocket's food, too. Gross.

Chilly rain falls from a grey sky. It's bleak and raw. The wind blows from the east.

As Peppy comes galumping through the mud towards him, Sly turns his head to look and see what's causing the noise. At the sight of the rather muddy Growlithe, the teen's eyebrows lift. He takes a second bite of his sandwich, then shifts it to his left hand. His right drops down to his side, to the knife hidden there. Near it, but not drawing it. Just in case. The Rocket makes no threatening moves (unless Peppy would know what the movement of his hand meant), and he doesn't stand up to avoid the mud. He chews slowly, watching to see what the incoming dog will do. Across the human's face is a scabby line, running from mid-forehead (just above his eyebrow) down across his right eye, running to an end at his jawline. The eye it crosses appears to have survived the wound and is as bright and mobile as the other. Sly nods to the incoming and assumedly wild pokemon; if the weather was better he might smile at the Growlithe, but he's got water running down his face and along the back of his neck. Cold rain. It's not smiling weather. As Peppy sends mud flying every which way, the Rocket lifts his sandwich overhead to try to keep it clean.

Boing, boing, boing. Peppy makes his way through the area, 100% of his attention focused on 'Food! Find! Eat! Food!'. The moment he realizes that there's a human at the food (meaning that he can't just waltz on in and snatch it up), however, the pup's eyes widen a bit, and he comes to a very, very sudden halt. Unfortunately, the mud is considerably slippery, and as the pup tries to dig his paws into the mud, his balance is thrown off. With a loud "Lithe!" of surprise, the pup pretty much trips over his own front limbs and goes splashing muzzle-first into the mud, getting the muck *all over himself*. Thankfully, Sly will probably keep his sandwich safe if he holds it above his head - the mud shouldn't fly too high, even if there is a ton of it. The sandwich may stay clean, but we probably can't say the same for Sly's black boots and pants unless the teen makes some agile maneuvers. Pulling his head out of the mud (the muck appropriately covering the pup's own scar, the one on his muzzle), Peppy blinks in surprise, shakes his head a bit, and sort of asks, <Uh, are you going to eat all of that?> ... Maybe he felt that if he didn't speak up quick enough, the boy would gobble down the sandwich by the time he pulled himself out of the mud.

Sly's concern isn't for keeping his muddy boots and pants less muddy. He moves the hand from the right, the one hovering near his knife, out. Towards Peppy it reaches, ready to steady the dog if Peppy tries to stand up right away. Once the flying mud has all settled, he lowers the hand with the sandwich. In answer to the question, Sly shakes his head no. Clearly he understands the Growlithe'ing. He tries to find somewhere non-muddy on himself to wipe his fingers off, then he rips a chunk of his hero off from the rest. Maybe it's under a quarter of the sandwich, but it's much, much more than any human would get if they asked. He holds the helping of bread, roast beef, mayo, and assorted other toppings out to the pokemon. With his other hand he lifts the rest of his sandwich to take a bite. As the wind shifts directions and blows rain towards them, Sly hunches his shoulder and lowers his head a little. Darned weather. He chews his bite of sandwich as he checks Peppy out, looking the unknown Growlithe over from muddy head to muddy tail.

A Retwa flares its wings and protects the database. (Saving)

Please say no, Peppy thinks to himself as he pulls himself out of the mud, making a gross little 'ssshluck!' sound in the process. Please say you don't want to eat the sandwich. Peppy either doesn't notice the knife or isn't fearing it, because he doesn't appear very scared or very nervous - only very hungry. His tail bursts into a frenzy of excited wags as Sly offers a fair portion (hey, a fourth of a sandwich is better than none!) of his food. Glancing up into the Rocket's eyes and giving him a doggy grin and a half-caring <Thanks!>, Peppy leans his head forward to gobble up the sandwich. His movements aren't really too fast, and it doesn't -look- like he's going to suddenly bite off Sly's hand, but hey, you never know. Supposing Sly isn't making any motions to stab or threaten to stab the pup, Peppy will munch the sandwich right out of the boy's hand, probably tickling his hand as the Growlithe tries to slurp up every last little crumb. Wag, wag, wag. A little mud would probably trickle off of the pup's muzzle and onto Sly's hand, but chances are quite likely that the rain'll wash it off quick enough.

Sly keeps an eye on Peppy's head (or rather, teeth) only long enough to make sure the wild pokemon isn't going to eat one of his fingers along with the sandwich. Sly lets his own eyes meet the Growlithe's, and in the darkness of them is only friendliness and acceptance of the wild pokemon, none of the aggressive threat or defensive walls a human would find. Once Peppy has eaten the sandwich out of his hand and gotten every last bit, the Rocket bring it back to himself. No grabbing, stabbing, or ew'ing over the Peppy-drool. He takes another bite for himself, then rips off another part for Peppy. It's smaller than the last piece, but the pokemon is eating much faster than himself, so it has to be smaller to be fair. As before, Sly holds the Sandwich out for Peppy to take (and will let the dog lick his hand clean again, if he wants). Then, once the hand is free, he'll slowly reach towards the pokemon's head to see if Peppy will let him pet him. If the canine pulls back, Sly won't chase after. And no, the "pat" isn't just an excuse to clean the drool off his palm.

Mmm mmm mmm. No, it's not a burger, and no, it's not a pepperoni pizza, but that doesn't mean the food can't simply make his wet and miserable day a better-than-decent one. The pup's only regret? That he doesn't eat slower. The pup's green eyes do occasionally flicker up at the teen's face, but more at the Rocket's scar than in his eyes. Furrowing his eyebrows very slightly, Peppy inhales and opens his mouth as though he's going to ask a question, but it is immediately and completely aborted once Sly offers - of all things - more food! All right! Glancing up at Sly for a second with a look on his face that just screams admiration and gratitude, Peppy directs his attention back down to the sandwich and gobbles this up, as well. He's a little quicker with this one; not only is the piece a little smaller, but the pup also knows just how darn good the sandwich tastes. Slurp, slurp, slurp. Peppy's pink tongue leaves a small coating of saliva on the boy's hand, but at least it's crumb-free. And then the boy gestures to pat Peppy on the head. Confused, the pokemon sort of peers at it for a moment. He was more or less expecting the human to bring his hand back and tear off more of the sandwich, not... reach towards him? He doesn't retreat, he just sort of peers at the hand... until he's patted on the head. Flashes of memory from his trained life come flooding back, and, his tail swooping back and forth with more power than before, the pup motions his head forward a little, trying to nudge Sly's hand with the side of his head. It has been so, so, so long since Peppy's been scritched near the ears - he's just hoping the boy catches the hint. Heck with that, he's -praying-.

Perhaps Sly sees where Peppy is looking, or maybe he's just self conscious of it. The teen lifts the sandwich-holding hand and rubs the scar with the back of his fingers. Sadness touches his nearly black eyes, and almost hidden, way at the back, is a brief glimpse of fear. Then Sly looks away and takes another bite of his lunch as Peppy eats his next piece. The teen looks back in time to watch for reactions to the intended-patting. Sly nods encouragingly as the Growlithe doesn't draw back. When Peppy allows the contact and then leans his head into it, the boy smiles. His fingers seek the places around Peppy's ears that his own Growlithe like to be scritched; his nimble fingers rub and scratch through the fur and mud. He takes and chews another bite of his food, then eyes his sandwich. Less than half left. He has to stop the contact so he can rip the rest in half. One part he keeps for himself, the other he offers to the wild Growlithe. As he waits for Peppy to take it or not (ha), the teen looks down into the bags. He has a soda in there, but it can wait. His gaze goes to Peppy, then into the bag again as he considers what else the wild pokemon might be willing to eat.

There are a few things in Peppy's life that he really, really, really loves. They all seem very obvious - he likes sleep, he loves burgers, and he *loves* Aurora. But there's a fourth one in here that can actually compare to these three, and it's scritching. Sadly enough, Peppy hasn't had a scritching in many months - and that's why he just sort of freezes up into himself, his breath becoming short and his eyes just sort of squeezing shut. His tail just drops. Though it actually almost looks like he's not the scritching, one who knows Growlithes well might be able to tell that Peppy's practically in ecstasy right now. It feels so good, so relieving, to have the trainer's fingers scratching right down at the base of his fur. It's a feeling that no human could possibly understand. The rain is forgotten. Sly stops all too soon for the pup, however, and Sly's retreating hand causes the canine to reflexively give out a little whimper as his eyelids blink open. His breathing returns to normal and his tail begins bouncing back and forth excitedly when the boy offers more food, and Peppy stops in mid-whine to peer at the food. Wow, even more food. This is awesome. The pup once again beams a little doggy smile up at Sly before crunching away on the food, drooling even more heavily than before this time. Seriously. All dogs go to heaven, but Peppy feels like he's already there.

Sly knows two pokemon very well: One is Growlithe, and the other is what Peppy would probably believe is the anti-Growlithe: Katerwauls. Though it's cold and wet and muddy (and did I mention wet? And muddy?) out, Sly smiles at the pup's reaction to his touch. Once he's fed the last of the sandwich and eats his part of it, he doesn't go back to scritching. Instead he moves his fingers in the air in what might seem a random way. It's not though. Shade the Haunter fades into view, right over Sly's shoulder. The Haunter giggles delightedly, then waves to Peppy. <Hi! Hi! Hi, nice puppy!> Sly lets his pokemon greet the other, then he waves his fingers and moves his hands more. The ghost pokemon watches them, then looks back to Peppy.

Munch, munch, munch. Peppy finishes up the sandwich, and it's only just now that he realizes that he should be guilty for not asking for some to bring to Aurora. Oh, well - perhaps now his morale's high enough to hunt with, you know, efficiency. Slurping his chops and trying to get every single last crumb - heck, every last molecule - of the sandwich, Peppy peers up at Sly's face yet again. What was he wanted to a... Oh, right. Giving Sly the tiniest little nod, he opens his mouth to speak... but doesn't get to. Instead, Sly makes some crazy motion in the air, which causes Peppy's tail to slow down a bit. And poof! out of nowhere comes a floating pokemon that's gigantic (hey, five feet tall is huge to a Growlithe). The Growlithe can't help but jump back a bit, giving a quick gasp of air. There are only two pokemon he knows who can do that - Scarewulf and Katerwaul, and he does *not like any of those*! Still, the Haunter seems friendly enough... and, taking a very clumsy looking defensive stance that almost makes him slip, thanks to the mud, Peppy glances left, right, at Sly, then at the ghost, and woofs a very insecure, "Grrrowlithe" of a greeting. It's not a very enthusiastic one.

Sly watches Peppy, looking a little worried that he might run off as Shade appears. He holds both hands up, palms out to the wild pokemon. It'd be a settling gesture if Peppy was a human... who knows how the dog will take it. Sly adds a nod to Peppy, keeping his face calm and everything but friendliness from his eyes. As a quick afterthought, he glances down into the bag and then takes something out. Cupcakes, two of them wrapped together. He starts pulling the plastic open, then drops the covering into the bag. One he holds out to Peppy to sniff, and if the dog wants it he'll be able to take it. These cupcakes have no paper "cup" or wrapper around their bottom, so there's no worry about needing to get that off before he can eat it. Sly was going to use Shade to translate for him, but now has the second cupcake in hand so he eats it instead. He keeps an eye on his ghost, making sure the playful creature won't do anything to scare the Growlithe. Once he's done with his sweet treat and has at least one hand free, he makes more hand and finger movements towards the evolved ghost. Shade giggles as he watches, then faces Peppy. <Jason wants you to come with us!> he explains. <If you want,> is a quick addition to that. <He says he'll give you all the food you want, and he'd get you clean and warm again. He said he doesn't want you to be cold and muddy!> No matter the seriousness of the words, the ghost giggles through much of the messages.

A Retwa flares its wings and protects the database. (Saving)

Chilly rain falls from a grey sky. It's bleak and raw. The wind blows from the east.

All kinds of thoughts are running through Peppy's mind. Maybe this is the evolution of a Katerwaul. Maybe this is a secret agent of the Scarewulf. Maybe this is what happens when a Katerwaul and a Scarewulf make babies (yeah, Peppy's mind is an awfully mixed up place). What other pokemon can turn invisible just like that? Though the Growlithe's concentration is mostly focused on the Haunter, he does notice Sly holding up his hands - the only thing Peppy can conclude is that he's not clutching a pokeball - and also taking out some food. Some really, really sweet smelling food. Taking a look up at Sly's eyes - they're so... friendly, how could this boy possibly be anything but gentle and kind? - and then along his scar, Peppy glances down at the cupcake. The rain is dripping right on top of the food, but it's far from ruined. Hey, the last food was good - how could this be any different? Slurping the food up with his tongue, Peppy munches away on it, his tail wagging softly. Eh. Not as good as that stuff he was eating before, but still pretty yummy. ... Of course, the Haunter's suggestion almost makes him spit it out. The pup's eyes widen, and he takes a somewhat fearful glance at Sly, then at the ghost, Sly, ghost. <I... uh.> A pause. <Well, uh.> Pause. <I...> Peppy may be about as thick as a brick, but the scritching and food has reminded him of his trained life - and, naturally, he understands that the ghost isn't offering a one-day thing, he's offering for the Growlithe to be owned by Sly. <I... I'm sorry,> the dog woofs, taking a nervous step back, almost slipping on the mud. He's going to sound so ungrateful, so mean, so rude! The trainer will never give him any more food, and, the soggy tuft of fur on his head bouncing from the step and sagging down to cover his right eye, Peppy continues. <I can't, I've... I can't, I just got used to wild life... Aurora's right over there, um, I couldn't leave her now, not now...> In the back of his mind, Peppy notices the horrible irony. Four months ago, he would have -begged- for the opportunity.

Sly doesn't need Shade to translate the reply, he understands it on his own. The teen sighs softly, but nods acceptingly of Peppy's decision. When the dog backs off a few steps, the teen remains where he is, crouched in the mud and the rain, eating his food. His wet cupcake. Once he's finished with it, he crumbles the bag which held the food (and still holds the little bag of chips) and drops it into the bag with the soda. The wind tries to snatch it away, but the chips provide enough weight to thwart Mother Nature's attempt. Sly guides the bag in with his hand, then folds down the top of the first one. Who needs soda, he's probably absorbing enough moisture from the rain to last him the rest of his life. Trash and remaining lunch packed, the Rocket lifts his hand to push his wet hair back from his forehead. He gestures to Shade. The ghost watches, then floats in a circle around the teenager before laughing and vanishing from view. Sly remains seated on his heels as he gives Peppy a final look. His eyes are hard to read -- they're not mean or looking like he's about to lunge at the now-wild pokemon, and they're not exactly longing or sad... He's just a little down. Not overly disappointed, just some. He lifts his hand in a wave to the pokemon, then takes hold of the soggy bag and stands.

Needless to say, Peppy feels really, really uncomfortable. He just got food and scritches and gave absolutely nothing in return except a *lot* of mud. Perhaps living with humans for too long has made the pup adopt some of their morals. Whatever the case, Sly seems cheerful and friendly, and his Haunter seems just as kind - certainly they'll understand? And understand the human and his pokemon seem to, actually a bit to Peppy's surprise and certainly his relief. Standing there in the rain for a moment, dripping wet and feeling awful - inside and out - Peppy finally opens his mouth and woofs, <Your scar.> ... That's probably not the goodbye Sly was expecting. Continuing, unless Sly or Shade does something to shut him up, Peppy woofs, <Your scar, it looks like it hurt a lot when you got it. I got mine a long time ago, but it won't go away. But I hope yours goes away, because I think that you don't deserve to have a scar upon your face.> His ears press against his head and his tail goes limp, and he sort of huddles up against himself tightly as he peers at the boy. His little speech is by no means well-said, but the thought is there.

Sly pauses as the Growlithe speaks, waiting in the rain to hear the pokemon out. The first words bring back a little of the self conscious worry, and make him touch the mark with his fingers again. He's not experienced the women-love-scars fact yet, and is still very worried it might ruin his chances to get more girlfriends. He nods a little to it having hurt, then listens as the wild Growlithe goes on. The rest of the message gives the teen pause. He smiles a little slyly at the wet canine, then glances around to make sure they're still alone. Once he's sure there are no people about, he changes a little. Not physically... or rather not exactly physically. His eyes become sharper and almost more alert. Though his posture doesn't change, he suddenly appears... feels... more ready. Dangerous. When Sly grins, it's a toothy expression which is more an animalistic gesture than a human one -- Sly is top dog, and though who he battled left a scar on his face, that person will never, ever attack another. Or do anything else. Though Sly physically looks much the same as he did a moment ago, he is no longer the same teen who fed the Growlithe. Even Peppy should be able to pick up on the "dangerous" feel about him. Sly doesn't make threatening moves towards the pokemon, but then he doesn't have to. His Top Dog-ness is impossible to miss.

Well, now Peppy's got a full tummy and an overall great mood. Half of the pup actually expects the clouds to sort of open up and bestow sunshine upon the area - but this, of course, doesn't happen. Sly gives him a smile, making the pup feels even better.

It takes a moment or two, but Sly makes the change back. It's not an effortless transition -- it's much, much easier to release the trueness of himself than to hide it. Once he pushes it back down deep inside him again, out of view of the human-sheep and poor, dumb Growlithes, Sly smiles at Peppy. His smile is back as it was, it's just an expression of a teenager who likes Growlithes almost best of any pokemon. The teen lifts a hand and touches his scar with a single finger. It's a significant gesture, and he watches Peppy's eyes as he makes it. Once done, he waves to the wild pokemon again, then turns to trudge back through the rain and mud to his bike. He's either going to get the darned thing fixed or call for someone to come and pick it up. He's had enough of the rain and the mud and the cold weather. It's time to get inside and warm.

A Retwa flares its wings and protects the database. (Saving)

Peppy just sort of blinks as Sly changes back to the kind-hearted trainer who fed him, scritched him, and didn't yell at him for getting him muddy. The pup still doesn't understand really what's going on - if somebody's true nature is kind and caring, why would he sometimes fake it to make himself appear evil? ... Yeah, the pup's got it all backwards. Whatever the case, Peppy watches Sly intensely as the boy moves his finger along his scar, peering so hard it's probable that he's unaware that the Rocket is watching him in the first place. As Sly waves and turns to retreat, Peppy still seems pretty much motionless. He doesn't woof a cheerful farewell, he doesn't comment on the boy's scar again, and he doesn't follow him. He just stays put, getting soggier and soggier by the moment, for a minute or so, before slowly, so to speak, returning to reality. Gently, he turns his body around in the general direction of his den. Yes, he promised to get some food for Aurora (she's been eating more than he has!), but right now, Peppy really just doesn't feel like hunting any more. Looking one more time in Sly's direction (likely he won't be able to see the boy), the pup begins to march through the puddles, his fed belly no longer enough to make him a happy Growlithe.