Contents:
Wesley
Obvious exits:
Out <O> leads to Cerulean City: Outside Gym Area.

Snow flurries drift silently down from the pale grey sky. The air is damp and cold, and there is little wind. In the forest, snowflurries dust the bare branches of the broadleaves and the needles of the conifers. While at the coast, light snowflakes sprinkle the glossy, black, and calm surface of the ocean.

This winter day brings flurries of wet snow with it, darkening the day's sky. That Cerulean's PokeCenter is a bit crowded is nothing to be surprised at, considering the weather and the Festival. The establishment is filled with a constant hum of chatter from humans and pokemon noises. Wesley is no exception, for he too is talking as he sits on one of the couches, a Machop on his left, a Drowzee on his right, an Ekans curled around his throat and one on his lap. He does have two Pikachu, but they're scampering over at the front of the 'Center, delighting a trainer with a female Nidoran with their cute antics. Wesley and his quartet of companions sit near the back of the Pokemon Center. He's had a few people come up to congratulate him about winning the melee battle held last night, and he doesn't want that to happen again!

Cerulean City is a frosted birthday cake, layers upon layers deep as far as the eye can see (though the distance is short, thanks to the numerous buildings in the city). The cold hangs in the wet air, making it difficult to breathe - even more so for Melissa Barlette, wrapped up in her usual winter clothes, her scarf covering her mouth and nose. She seems to be struggling as she makes her way through the dreadful weather, eyes squinting behind her glasses, body inclined forward to get her through the high snow on the ground as quickly as possible. Approaching the Pokemon Center, the girl comes to a quick stop, scans the building's outside briefly, and sighs underneath her scarf. Finally. She was afraid she would never find this place. Unconsciously patting her pokeballs with a gloved hand, the trainer marches up to the door, grabs the knob, swings it open, and enters the far warmer Pokemon Center. With a little gasp from the sudden blast of heat, the girl immediately unwraps her scarf, and proceeds to fiddle with her buttons, though the process is slow. It's hard to undo a coat when you're wearing mittens.

Will Santa's route be extra long this year? Better save! (Saving)

Wesley's grey eyes greedily absorb the words as he reads. He's not a master at reading out loud - his voice is too soft, and at times he stumbles with the words, but that doesn't seem to decrease the interest of ThoughtThief and Fistfight. "And he knew that she knew it, too. They were trapped in a subtle game of cat and cat. Maybe, thought Cyrus as he looked Diana over, this cat needs to be rubbed the right way. He strode confidently towards her and..." Wesley interrupts himself to clear his throat. "Could you get me some water, Fistfight?" he asks. The Machop nods and slips off the couch, searching through Wesley's backpack on the floor. She pulls out a bottle of water half as big as she is and hands it to her trainer, who continues to scan the page. Wesley raises the bottle to his lips, sips it...and almost spits it out. His eyes widen considerably. <What's wrong?> Fistfight asks. The boy manages to swallow. "Oh, uhm.." he mumbles. "It's just, uh, y-you see, in the next little bit, uh..." <He kills her, I knew it!> interrupts ThoughtThief, with a smug grin. "Uh..." Wesley repeats dumbly, staring at the page in a kind of horrified fascination. Sparkheart and Buttercup, meanwhile, giggle as they rush in circles around each other. The older girl with the female Nidoran giggles and laughs - she is among the few people who glance over to Melissa as the girl enters.

"Grrrph," Melissa grunts, furrowing her snow-lined eyebrows as she struggles with the simple task of removing her coat. It doesn't take long, however, for her to catch on, and she removes her mittens, shoving them into her pocket once they're off. It becomes much easier, now, and the girl, dripping wet with the rapidly melting snow, holds her hat and coat in hand, a content sigh escaping her lips as she absorbs the warmth. "Mm," she mumbles, giving the older trainer with a Nidoran a soft smile. A father Pikachu and a little daughter one... If Melissa was a little better at telling pokemon genders, she might think of looking around for Wesley, but right now the little electric types only remind her of him, little more. "Hey, guys," the trainer mumbles sheepishly to the Pikachus, quiet enough so that she will likely be ignored. Looking up to the Nidoran girl, Melissa's smile widens a bit, though it's more of a nervous one. "Are they yours?" she asks softly, approaching her, winter clothes in both hands.

<Is there lots of blood?> ThoughtThief asks, leaning closer to Wesley. <Figures you'd be into stuff like that,> Fistfight grumbles, rolling her eyes as she gets back onto her seat. "No blood," Wesley replies faintly, even more softly than usual. <So, how does he kill her?> the Drowzee demands, getting impatient. "He doesn't kill - woah," Wesley adds, spotting something very interesting in the text. This time his eyes widen /and/ his eyebrows shoot up. "This is disgusting," he notes, his voice perfectly pitched to convey disgust, but a nervous giggle escapes him. <And /what/ is it, moron?> ThoughtThief finally snaps. You try so hard to be a nice guy, and this is what it gets you! Wesley's face turns pink, and when he speaks it's barely a whisper. "Uhm, it's what, what, guys and girls...do. Together. And I, I can't believe it's actually like this." Wesley's face turns even redder as Fistfight and ThoughtThief just /stare/ at him. "It's disgusting," he repeats quickly.

Back in a more pleasant world, the older girl and her Nidoran look at Melissa, both giving her a friendly smile. "Hello there. No, they're not mine - they were playing here when I got here. They're so /cute/, aren't they?" she gushes, with a little grin. <Cute we are, cute we stay, every night and every day!> chirps Sparkheart, stopping and grinning up at the Nidoran-trainer and then up at Melissa...whom he regards with a blink of surprise. Buttercup continues to run circles around him, not noticing anything except what's in front of her.

Despite her attempts to be social, Melissa doesn't even hear it if the Nidoran girl replies; her eyes remain locked on the Pikachu and his daughter. "Huh?" She blinks, tearing her eyes off of the Pikachus (funny - the way the bigger one speaks, that rhythm... it sounds familiar) to settle them upon the Nidoran girl. A warm smile. "Oh," Melissa lets out, her impersonal answer quickly being followed by a soft, well-meant but fake sounding, "That's a very nice Nidoran you have." Now, a little more personal, but still almost zombie-like. "I have a Nidoran, too." Her concentration seems to be more on the way she pronounces words, not her tone... or so much of what she's saying. Turning back to the Pikachu, whether Nidoran girl replies or not, the teenager bites her lower lip, perhaps taken in by how cute he is. "He's adorable." Wesley and his fantastic journey into a World of Impure Thoughts are unnoticed by the girl, but she's quickly putting two and two together. Hopefully, at least.

ThoughtThief finds his tongue first. <So, how is it?> he asks slyly. <Wesley, don't you dare read that stuff!> Fistfight barks out, smacking her boy on the arm. The Ekans around Wesley's neck hisses and snaps at the old Machop, fire in her yellow eyes. "Sent, calm," Wesley hisses at her, and the Ekans becomes calm immediately. He glances left and right, looking at his two intelligent pokemon. He coughs, setting the water bottle down on the floor. The boy then quickly leafs through the pages. "Ah!" he says quickly, "see, there, the next chapter goes back to those guys hunting for Cyrus." Wesley wrinkles his face in a thoughtful frown. "It's really weird. You'd think people could find a..nicer way to have kids than like...this." It's sad, that Wesley only has two pokemon to talk to about stuff of this nature. Where's your dad around when you need him? <Oh, I don't know about that,> ThoughtThief says with one of his dirty chuckles. <Shaddup,> grumps Fistfight. <And, well, hey, don't think anything more about it, right?> she says sternly to Wesley. "..Right," the kid agrees, with a curt nod.

Does Melissa hear Wesley? Does she realize that these might his Pikachu? Does the little yellow one's gesture attract attention to the back? Or is she simply looking around to see who else is in the Pokemon Center? Whatever the case, Melissa scans the trainers near the back. Kid with a hat on, Bulbasaur sleeping her life away, pale grey-eyed boy with a book, Machop, and Drowzee, girl with a... The Pewter girl blinks, wipes the fog from her glasses, blinks again, and lands her eyes upon the pale boy again. "... I'm sorry." Melissa turns her head, giving the Nidoran girl a smile. "I recognize somebody, ah... I know." Smile widens. "Thank you for talking to me bye have a nice night!" As long as the Nidoran girl doesn't go out of her way to stop the Pewter one, Melissa will make her way towards Wesley, dodging that Psyduck, sidestepping the two little kids playing cards on the floor, half following Sparkheart and half following her own set path - after all, he might have an easier time along his trail, given his quickness and small size. Her pace will be fast, but not particularly hurried.

Wesley looks down at the book with a frown. It betrayed him; it was supposed to be a chilling and compelling mystery, but, no, it had to be ruined, didn't it? The boy snaps it shut and sets it on the scales of the second Ekans, the curled one on his lap. The snake makes no move to shove the book off her. "I can't see how it's supposed to be as...good as it was described," Wesley suddenly says, blushing, but determined to get to his point. "It's really gross. And I don't get it." <That's why you shouldn't think about it! You're too young to care about horrible stuff like this!> Fistfight admonishes fiercely. <If you're that /curious/ about it, I'm sure there's always some /ways/ you can find out..> ThoughtThief grins, dark amusement never out of his voice. Wesley looks between the two of them, before his eyes narrow. "I just want to talk to /people/!" Wesley hisses, a surge of anger flowing through him, but as usual, Wesley is quiet about it. "You two don't know a thing, or if you do you think I'm a baby and don't tell me, or you laugh at me and you're just stupid pokemon!" Fistfight stares, hurt, while ThoughtThief blinks in surprise.

The snow on Melissa's coat has mostly melted by now, and water drips from her clothing as she walks across the center. She avoids getting trainers wet, though she quite accidentally annoys a little Rattata, who grumbles at the "<clumsy fool!>" Melissa, unable to interpret a Rattata's snarl from its squeak from its cry, ignores the purple one, focusing on making her way to her friend. The girl catches a hint of the end of Wesley's "conversation", and she comes to an almost immediate stop. "... and you're just stupid pokemon!" Melissa stares at the boy, eyes slowly widening, before - whump slap! The pile of clothes thump on the floor, the more wet areas creating a smacking noise as they crack into the ground. Wesley's glare at the Pikachu only disproves the fact that Melissa wasn't just hearing things. The girl's mouth opens, and she appears to try and say something, but it comes out choked. She swallows, tries again. Same reply.

Will Santa's route be extra long this year? Better save! (Saving)

Sparkheart's ears flick backwards as Melissa's clothes fall to the ground, but he keeps his confused brown eyes on his trainer. Wesley ignores his pokemon, looking up at the noise to see Melissa. His brow furrows as he looks up at her - he needs a few seconds before his mind can comprehend her presence. "Oh, hello Melissa," he says, in the exact same tone Nidoran girl said her "Uh, bye". He's surprised to see her, but there not many other emotions visible or audible, until he notices Melissa's behavior. He frowns softly at her, his blonde-haired head tilting. "..Are you okay?" he asks, a touch of concern leaping into his voice. Wesley obviously doesn't know that she heard his conversation. His pokemon are also slow to respond to Melissa. Fistfight gives her a confused smile and a wave, but its a pale imitation of her normal enthusiasm. ThoughtThief stares at her for a second before avoiding her gaze. He really doesn't want to deal with her right now. The snakelings are as impassive as ever, while Buttercup begins to laugh as she hops around her pop.

Melissa continues staring, attracting the attention of a little girl in the corner, who leans forward to see what in the world the older one is staring at. Melissa's paralyzation doesn't last for very long. In a matter of moments, her eyebrows have furrowed, her rosy cheeks have paled, and her lips are set into a cross frown, looking more like a strict schoolteacher than a teenage girl. Coming a little closer to Wesley, Melissa scans the pokemon quickly. Fistfight doesn't have her usual vigor, but none of the other pokemon appear particularly offended or hurt. Perhaps she misheard his tone of voice? "... Wesley," she says at last, struggling to retain a stern voice. "Are you okay?" She doesn't seem to notice that her question matches his own. Eyes flicker to Fistfight, then up to Wesley. She feels more than a little awkward. What if she read into it all wrong? She seems intent on giving the boy the benefit of the doubt.

The young boy's response is to lean closer to Melissa, take his head out of its tilt and peer up at her, uncertainty clouding his grey eyes. "I...guess I'm okay?" he says, but there's a definite question to his tone that wants to know why Melissa would think he wouldn't be okay. There's a little pause, broken by the male Pikachu likely before Melissa has time to respond. <Maybe she heard what I did, that you think pokemon are stupid,> Sparkheart suggests quietly, patting his daughter absently on the head. <Stupid, bupid!> replies Buttercup, with a perky grin. Wesley looks down at Sparkheart, his face utterly neutral, before his eyes make their slow, scared way up to Melissa's face. If she did hear..but she couldn't have, right? But if she did? She knows he doesn't get angry often, he wouldn't get angry without a real reason...right? One hand moves the stroke the Ekans on his lap, but he doesn't even seem to acknowledge the snake. "I, uh, guess I was a little mad," he admits. "So, no, not okay..so much." There - if she heard, then at least it doesn't look like he's covering anything up. And if she didn't hear anything...Wesley silently curses himself for sounding like an idiot.

Melissa's arms slowly raise to her chest, and she crosses them, ignoring the sudden chill as her wet sleeves press against her more dry chest. Even as Wesley admits to being wrong, Melissa still appears a little cross, still watching Fistfight for any interesting signs. None immediately come, so the girl takes matters based on only what the boy is telling her. "... Why did you do it?" She sounds a little more stern than usual, slightly less shy. Is she angry at him for calling his pokemon stupid? Is she worried that everything isn't okay? Is she concerned over how the pokemon are taking it? Though there's an unoccupied seat near Wesley, Ms. Barlette doesn't seem very well inclined to take it. She stands there with that look upon her face. It's not particularly mean, almost a little confused if anything - but knowing Wesley, it might just be like looking straight into the eyes of the devil.

It's quite hard for the kid to think at the moment. Is Melissa...mad at him? Something inside Wesley begins to crumble, the acid of panic eating away at his wall of reason. No, she can't be mad at him, that means losing the one thing in life that is so dear to him. Fistfight looks between Wesley and Melissa, unsure about what to do. ThoughtThief sneaks a glance over to the girl as she speaks. "Why..did I do what, Melissa?" Wesley asks, his eyes falling to his feet, the hand stroking the Ekans bumping up against the book. He can't help it if she's vague. <..Huh. And he calls /us/ stupid,> ThoughtThief jokes, with a chuckle. Fistfight chuckles back, giving a tired smile and patting Wesley on the hand. She looks quite old, with that smile. It's too much for Wesley. "I am /not/ stupid, and I'm not a baby, and I don't need you touching me!" The words fly from Wesley's mouth as a quick, panicked snap. Melissa's not going to be his friend and he just wants everything to go away but it won't and its their fault! It can be hard to shake anger, once it's near you. Fistfight does stop touching him with a worried frown, and ThoughtThief shakes his head and rolls his eyes, annoyed, not hurt. The snakes don't seem to care.

Melissa's eyes widen behind her glasses, and she gives an audible gasp. Her "stern" look fails her, and her arms drop, almost comically. She recovers quickly, however - probably much to Wesley's disappointment. Her glare is back, as fierce and disapproving as ever. "Wesley!" She stomps a step forward, locking her eyes to his. "Wh... why are you... screaming at poor Fistfight?" ThoughtThief goes unnoticed, apparently, though whether it's because he's not affected by the barking or because Melissa's still mad at him is unclear. Should Wesley do something to keep Melissa away, the girl will not move, but if Wesley doesn't flinch away, glare back, or do something of the sort, she will proceed to walk over to Fistfight and attempt to stroke her bald head. There's definitely a little compassion here, but should the action be carried out, it will be more to spite Wesley than anything else. Whether she pats the Machop or not, the girl will go on to say, "She doesn't... deserve that, and you know it." Should she be met with silence, she'll tack on another, "What's wrong?"

The Ekans around Wesley's neck watches Melissa. It's not quite clear to her, but she's beginning to feel that this human might be making her trainer upset. She hisses in anger at the thought, her eyes glinting. The boy pays no attention to Melissa until she stops her foot - as if it was a signal, Wesley's head jerks upwards. He does flinch at Melissa's too-true words, but makes no move to stop when she moves; he ducks his head. He either doesn't want to see her...or is expecting her to slap him. "Ma?" Fistfight utters, the word a light query, and that brings Wesley's attention to her. <Oh, thank you, hon,> Fistfight says softly as Melissa strokes her head. <She comes to comfort me in my ti-yime of nee-eed!> Fistfight adds, acting a bit like her normal self by dramatically gasping, pouting, and making sobbing motions for her trainer's benefit. ThoughtThief snorts. She sticks her tongue out at him. Wesley's brain churns. After a long pause, he sighs. "I..got angry. But it will go back to the way it was between us," he motions to himself and Fistfight, with a light smile, one that Fistfight returns enthusiastically. Then he turns away. "It always does." It sounds like he's resigned to that fact, rather than comforted by it.

The break comes in Melissa's eyes. Her lips remain the same, her stroking retains its pace, but her eyes reveal that she's almost pitying the boy now. "... Oh," she mumbles, her lips remaining tight. The girl hesitates, idly and automatically rubbing the old Machop's bald head, before swallowing hard. "... I've just never... seen you act like that. ... It didn't seem like the, uh, the... like you usually are." Rub, rub, rub. The girl's eyes remove themselves from Wesley and jump to the floor, gradually looking up as she checks out the pokemon center. The night is looming upon the city, and the snow in the darkness is visible through the glass windows. "I... uh." Melissa, for the first time in a while, smiles gently, giving off a little half-chuckle. "... I should... probably go pick up the clothes I dropped... huh?"

A lesson that Wesley can take from this experience is that he should watch out for public displays of anger. A lesson that Melissa could take would be to not question boys entering puberty too closely about their feelings. Likely, Wesley won't get his lesson for a long time. The boy trainer keeps his grey eyes on Melissa's face. A sheepish look works its way onto his own, mixed in with a bit of stomach-rumbling guilt. He's sorry Melissa had to see this, and it is clear on his face even if he doesn't speak to her. He's not so sorry that it happened in the first place, though this part isn't as obvious unless you scrutinize his face closely. Fistfight grins under Melissa touch - it's nice to be petted! "Yes, you..probably should," Wesley responds with a hesitant smile. <You can help,> the old Machop notes quickly. The boy opens his mouth..and closes it, allowing his lips to form a pensive frown. She's doing it again. Telling him things he should do. ..But doesn't that help him? "I can help," Wesley repeats, slapping a quiet smile onto his face for Melissa's benefit. With that, he stands up, putting the book and snake off his lap. Wesley looks around and, if Melissa doesn't object, will pick up an article of clothing and hand it to her, a bit hesitantly.

Well, this is awkward. Melissa turns her head back to Wesley curiously, cocking her head very, very slightly at his attitude. He seems to have no reply towards his rough (in her mind) treatment of his pokemon, and concentrates only on... picking up the girl's soaking wet clothing. "Um." Melissa accepts the hat, blushes slightly, and grins uneasily. "Thanks." If Wesley picks up her coat or another article, the girl will accept this, too, though unless Wesley goes and sits back down, she won't actually bother picking anything up by herself. "... Wesley," she says after a moment, and it sounds like her voice could go anywhere. Is she going to ask him about the shout again? Or ask him about the clothes? Or... "... We... uh." She grins a little uneasily, lifting up her left arm to stroke her hand through her still-wet hair. "I, uh... I came here to find you, because, uh, because mom..." Despite the (slightly more) collective attitude Melissa's tried to keep all day, she seems to be crumbling now.

Buttercup leans up against her father, watching her trainer and Melissa move with faint interest. She's really watching them because they're in her line of sight and she's too tired to move her head. The Pikachu cuddles his daughter, glad that the conflict has been resolved, and even happier than Buttercup didn't pick up on the hostility. After the girl excepts her clothes (the Ekans around his neck watching Melissa warily) Wesley goes back to picking up more, his movements slow, with little to no eye-contact made with his friend. He avoids her gaze due to a combination of guilt and a fear of what he might see in her expression as she looks at him. After handing to her the last piece of clothing, Wesley is forced to look at his friend as she speaks his name. He becomes noticeably tenser, his face faltering. The 'we' only brings confusion prancing about on Wesley's features. "Your mom?" he repeats blankly. Does he think something bad happened to Melissa's mom? <So, you think Cyrus and Diana had a fun time?> ThoughtThief asks of Fistfight, glancing at the book. <I think someday, when you least expect it, I'm gonna watch your brains spill aaaaall over the ground,> Fistfight responds with a short giggle as she watches her life rebuild itself after Wesley's onslaught.

Will Santa's route be extra long this year? Better save! (Saving)

Melissa, perhaps nervous about what she's saying to Wesley, turns her head to Fistfight, giving the Machop a grin. Maybe she was a little worried she'd offend Wesley, and thinks she got out okay? Melissa's grin widens when she catches the old pokemon's giggle, unaware of what in the world Fistfight just said but glad that she's happy! ... Ah, the things this girl misses in her ignorance. "Yeah... um." Turning her head a little, Melissa strokes her hair more, blushing even further. If she catches Wesley's confused face, she doesn't notice it; deliberately, she looks across the pokemon center. "... Yeah, uh, after Christmas, um, Adrienne... She, uh, she'll be home. For Christmas, I mean, because... I mean home with the family. For Chr... right, and, uh..." Well, this is going along well. Melissa is getting more and more red by the moment, and her hair stroking turns into neck scratching.

<You know, /I/ think Kevin is actually going to turn out to be the one who betrays Cyrus,> Fistfight notes. <No way, it's gotta be the girl. It's a big complicated literary thing - I'm not saying I know it, but I know that you couldn't understand it even if I did - but it's /gotta/ be the girl.> ThoughtThief nods at his conclusion. <...I think Kevin issss a good guy,> hisses the snake on the couch. The two look at the Ekans. <Oh..you were listening?> Fistfight asks, surprised. <I have earsss,> Purple the Ekans responds, rather annoyed. <And a brain.> Wesley does listen to Melissa's words as she speaks, but his eyes are distracted by her quite-active hand as it strokes through her hair. "I'm glad your sister is coming," Wesley says softly. He's not sure what this has to do with anything, but he figures it's one of those fancy conversation-starters that he's heard so much about. "Must be nice to have the family together for..Christmas." The kid has an odd look as he says this - he truly doesn't understand why Christmas is such a big thing in the first place, though Melissa might not understand that subtext.

Wesley's apparent uneasiness about getting the family together for Christmas does not go unnoticed to Melissa, and her blush intensifies. "Heh, um." How silly she's going to sound: getting only a hint that Wesley might be in Cerulean City, she travels all the way to this city, just to tell him this! Is it too strong? Will he be impressed? Will he even know that she was in Pewter just this morning? "Well, uh... She won't be here for Christmas, but, um, uh, she will be here... a few days afterwards." A pause. "See, she, uh, told mom the other day, you know, by the, uh, the phone, and, um... ... would you like to, uh, to come to our dinner?" Perhaps this is why she was so surprised and acting so strangely earlier. She was preparing herself to go up and invite him the moment she saw him, whether it be today or three days from now, and he caught her off guard. That, or Melissa's simply being her odd self. Smiling uneasily, she turns away from Wesley, though she still waits for a reply.

The young boy still watches his friend's hand with an apparent fascination. Maybe it's easier at the moment than looking at her nervous, red face. Melissa breaks his spell by revealing that her sister actually won't be coming for Christmas. Wesley's eyes snap to her own and hold there, unblinking even during the startling question. His eyebrows raise sharply before both slam back down into their original positions, while his eyes watch her for any trace of deceit. This sounds like a joke. He doesn't even like Christmas, and from what he knows about it it's a family thing. It's private. Fistfight would probably gush all over the idea, but she's too busy debating with Purple the Ekans and ThoughtThief about the book Wesley had been reading to them. Wesley's jaw drops, and his mouth slowly works to form his first word. "I...y..you're sure you want me to come?" The emphasis is on the 'me'.

Melissa smiles a little, though Wesley surely won't see it since she's turned around. Her hand drops to her side. "... Of course, W-Wesley." The girl takes a short sidestep, turning her head so as to watch Wesley's reaction. She misses the jaw drop, but other aspects of Wesley's reaction causes her to have to hold in a giggle. Once the amused sound is fully stifled, the girl adds, her head still turned, though she's no longer looking at him. A coy smile is shown on her face, which the boy should be able to see. "... You're my best friend, aren't you?" Though she intended for the statement to be bold and knowing, it comes out almost nervous, almost curious, almost uncertain, though not quite. Recognizing that she didn't say it correctly, the Pewter trainer grins a little more, far more uneasily.

Wesley draws in a slow breath from his open mouth. He exhales with a soft "oh.." sound. The only one watching him is Sparkheart; his daughter and the Ekans around Wesley's neck have fallen asleep, the snake's head resting on Wesley's left shoulder. Not that he notices. It's gotten so that Sentinel's scales can go easily ignored by Wesley. The other pokemon are still talking about the book, Fistfight in particular gesticulating and making a few rather loud exclamations to counter ThoughtThief's points. Wesley and Melissa are in a world of their own except for one rodent onlooker. "Of..of course I am, Melissa," Wesley eventually manages, the words with just a touch of fear. He feels she's going to shout at him again, to bring this beautiful and near-sacred bond he has with her to ruin. And knowing Wesley, he'd find some way to make that into his fault. "B..But!" the boy says suddenly, his head raising a tad as the thought glows like a neon sign in his skull. "I don't know when Christmas is. I mean, I know it's on the twenty-fifth," he hastens to add (as if mass media would let him forget the date!), "but I don't know when that is. ..What day of the week it is. I'll need to know when to come." Pause. "And what...time."

Wesley seems on the verge of accepting, and Melissa closes her eyes, exhaling her relief quite loudly. The boy will definitely hear. "I'm so glad!" the Pewter girl exclaims, whirling around with a broad smile on her face. Perhaps she expected rejection? She does know Wesley is not exactly Tiny Tim when it comes to Christmas. "I, um... heh." Now come more embarrassing parts. "Mom doesn't know... exactly, but, uh... will you be in Pewter again?" And then, hopefully: "Soon?" The last word has a tinge of hopefulness mixed in with it, and she looks at the boy longingly, hoping for an answer in her favor.

Will Santa's route be extra long this year? Better save! (Saving)

As Melissa exhales, Wesley's head tilts slightly. Her whirl startles him and he shrinks back just a centimeter before realizing..hey, she's not a Persian going to pounce on him. She's his best friend, and she's very happy...because he said the right thing. It feels this is the first time this has happened all night. An eyebrow quirks ever-so-slightly as Melissa admits that her mother doesn't know when that is, both because it smacks of poor planning on the mom's part (and mothers are supposed to be able to do everything!) and also because he can easily see himself turning up a day late to the dinner if he doesn't know the exact date. Still, when he responds to her question, the eyebrow is down and enthusiasm trickles like a stream across his words. "I will be, after the Winter Fest is over. I'll come straight there." A small smile smooths over his face, making him look like a little cherub...at least from the neck up, as cherubs aren't skinny. "I'll take the first bus I can catch." Woah, a bus. Wesley's gonna travel in style.

Melissa keeps her mouth closed as she giggles, so the noise comes out stifled and strange. "I'm... I'm glad, then. We're... um, we're going to have lots of really good food. And you can, um, you can have the leftovers if you want them. We always... have a lot, even if Adrienne's home." Her statements seem unfitting next to Wesley's adorable smile, but judging by her increasing blush and her nervous smile, Melissa must have caught it. "My... uh... ... my bus leaves early tomorrow. I... really..." She glances at one of the chair, the one right next to ThoughtThief - not exactly the best slumber party buddy. "... Really should, uh, get to sleep. Will... uh..." Slight hesitation. Melissa inhales, exhales. "... Will you be riding with me tomorrow?"

Wesley's sweet smile continues unabated, and it widens at the mention of food. Wesley almost never eats out and always eats healthy. Even when he was at home, his father was not the best cook - roasted birds with gravy certainly weren't on the menu much. (Roasted birds happen to be the dinner Wesley associates with Christmas due to many commercials.) When her glance goes to the chair, Wesley's gaze turns blank. What's so interesting about watching ThoughtThief talk debate with Purple about the coolest character in the book? Luckily, Melissa is getting much better at clarifying things for the muddle-headed boy. To her question, Wesley gives a light but disappointed frown and shakes his head. "Uh, no, I won't be riding with you tomorrow. The Winter Festival is still on, and I have to be there on Saturday. Because..." Wesley pauses, but for whatever reason, doesn't continue explaining why he has to be there. "But I..promise, that once it's over, I'll..well, I'll rest here first, so...I suppose I'll be there late Sunday night. I'm not sure how long it'd take by bus."

Melissa notices Wesley's widened smile, and her giggle goes off again, once again stifled by her closed mouth. Too cute, she thinks to herself, shaking her head. Giving Wesley a small nod after he tells her about the Winter Festival, Melissa glances once more at the chair. "... I look forward to seeing you, then. Maybe... um... maybe I'll be there Monday morning at the, uh, the pokemon center." Plop, plop, plop. Melissa makes her way over to the little chair, still a little wet, placing the wet clothes on it. "Guess I'll... head for bed now." Giving Wesley a little smile, the girl turns around, and should she not be stopped, will head for the bathroom to get ready for the night ahead.