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.

Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape. In the forest, the shade under the deep green leaves of the trees is welcome relief from the hot glare of the sun. While at the coast, the sea sparkles in the brilliant sunlight, the waves rolling merrily against the shore.

Smelling on sunscreen, grey eyes shaded by somewhat scratched sunglasses, a whopping one inch taller than he was a few months ago, Wesley sits on one of the boulders on the outskirts of Pewter. It's a few boulders away from Melissa's usual one - likely, this is only because Wesley can't quite remember his best friend's customary perch. His stuffed backpack is on the ground...as are most of the pokemon he has out. Fistfight is there, holding a water bottle that looks like it will be sorely needed in today's scorching heat. A faintly scarred Bulbasaur soaks up the sun, his eyes half-closed, while an active Hitmonchan boxes thin air to get her muscles warmed up. ThoughtThief leans against the boulder in the classic gangster pose, while Seafarer is apparently practicing his Withdraw attack...or at least, he's resting comfortably inside his shell. Spike the Nidoran is the only one who rests off of the ground - on Wesley's lap, as a matter of fact. <Is Melissa here yet?> he asks, excitedly. His trainer smiles at the thought and begins to look around. Is she here yet?

Spring rolls on. Summer is all around Pewter, taking place in both desirable and undesirable ways. The grass is warm and wet, and it squishes and squicks under Melissa's sneakers as she walks south of the city. Her pace is leisurely, her stance slack, her hands stuffed into her pockets and her eyes watching the earth. Presently she stops, straightening her back and scanning the landscape as she runs her right hand through her hair. "Nobody at my rock," she mumbles to herself after a monster, her cheeks puffing up in a look of perplexed worry. "And I'm a little late..." Shielding her face from the sun with the hand initially combing her hair, she looks across the rocky plains. It's not long before she resembles Wesley - or, rather, a vague human shape surrounded by a party of non-human shapes. A warm smile compliments her visage, and she continues walking, her pace more vigorous now.

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

Wesley spots...well, one figure. "That might be her," he says cheerfully, and Spike cranes his neck to see to figure(s) Wesley gestures to. "Can you smell anything?" <Not enough wind,> the poison rabbit replies, ears perked forward in an attempt to hear the oncoming crew. <Wave to her, Wesley,> Fistfight encourages, but the boy shakes his head quickly. If it isn't her, that would be extremely embarrassing. "No, I mean, if it's her, she'll know where to go. There aren't any other groups like this," he motions to his training pokemon, "around." After he says that, the boy glances surreptitiously about the landscape and sighs in relief that he was actually right. "And how are we all doing?" he inquires as the prospect of a good sparring session nears. He receives a curt <Fine,> from the Bulbasaur, Squirtle and Drowzee, a grumpy <I'd like to fight sometime soon,> from the still air-punching Quickstrike, and an enthusiastic <Right as rain!> from the old Machop. <..Say, how exactly is rain right, anyways?> Fistfight questions. Wesley laboriously adjusts his sunglasses as a way to buy time for him to think up the answer.

For such a clumsy girl, Melissa seems to have few problems making it across the boulder-riddled field. Her eyes remain locked on the group ahead, but she still manages to weave and twist her way around the rocks in her path, and her pace remains constant. "Wesley! Wesley!" the girl calls as she gets closer, thrusting one hand into the sky and waving it around frantically, trying to catch the boy's attention. The closer she gets, the more certain she is that this is her friend waiting for her; who else has quite so unique a combination of pokemon species? She's soon within twenty yards of the boy, and, while still marching towards him, the teenager locks her hand onto her pokeball, stripping it away from the belt around her jeans. She clutches it with both hands for a moment, looking down at the small white button on the front, before lifting her left arm to adjust the glasses on her face, wet with perspiration and mist. As she gets closer, Wesley will be able to notice that her hair is pretty disarrayed, no doubt beaten up by the humid weather and by Melissa's bumpy walk as she dodges boulders and bumps.

<I hear her!> squeaks Spike, shifting his weight in excitement. "So do I," replies a now quite more upbeat Wesley. <Melissa waves,> notes ThoughtThief. <It's a nice thing to do, We--> Fistfight begins to lecture, before she sees that Wesley is indeed waving back - if he's not quite so enthusiastic about the hand movement as Melissa, well, that's just how the kid is. Wesley clears his throat and looks at his pokemon, his chin raised and shoulders set wide, a young prince on his throne. "What we're doing here today is going to help us in the battle against the rock types at Brock's gym. You guys'll get..." here he falters, "well, /probably/ a good sparring session." ThoughtThief snorts, and the Squirtle scoffs from inside his shell. The boy's eyes narrow. "All right, so it's Melissa. But she /evolved/ one of her pokemon, remember?" Now his voice lowers in shyness, and he'll only continue if Melissa remains out of ear-shot. "And..a-apparently to her, I'm a Master already. So..I want to look like it. Please, everybody, can you be good? You'll get tons more fights, even if this one doesn't go so well. Just be nice, be loyal...all right?" Not everyone gives Fistfight and Spike's enthusiastic <Sure!>, but at least no one other than ThoughtThief says, <No, I don't think I will, brat.>

Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape.

Melissa, caught up in huffing and puffing and looking down at her pokeball, only hears that Wesley is saying something to his pokemon; she doesn't even catch a single word of the lecture. Wesley will get the time he needs to talk to his pokemon, as Melissa at a point has to bend down and tie her shoelaces, which is a longer job for her than most. Her deft hands swirl about over her shoe, carefully and craftfully creating the perfect knot. How useful. Standing back up, Melissa regards Wesley for a moment, and for the first time since Wesley informed her of the session, the girl feels... nervous. Scared. Intimidated. She's been looking forward to it for a while; now she's not so certain that she's going to enjoy this. Well, too late to turn back now... "Wesley, are you ready?" she calls, her velocity shrinking as she gets closer to the boy. "I... um... I brought Nick." Should the boy care to look, she'll raise the hand that clutches the pokeball, innocently presenting it for him to look at all he likes, as though the regular pokeball is something special. "He's... um, we've been, uh, training for ya!" She grins, her eyes widening slightly as she mentally tells herself to stop acting like a scared Nidoran.

There's an obvious split on Wesley's team between the pokemon here to fight and the pokemon here to watch. The scarred Bulbasaur opens his eyes and turns to face Melissa. <Huh,> he huffs and eyes her pokeball, hoping that something worth the wait is contained inside. Though Seafarer deigns to come out of his amber shell to look the girl over, he gives a low "Squiirrr.." that clearly conveys how unimpressed he is. Quickstrike doesn't even spare Melissa a glance as she continues to box, while ThoughtThief snarks, <One pokemon, yeah, that's helpful. 'Least this'll be over quickly.> All these reactions are balanced the trio of watchers. Spike leaps off of his trainer's lap, grins up at Melissa and chirps, <Hi! Melissa! Hello! How's Puff? Is he okay?> <Melissa! Glad to have you here, sweetie!> Fistfight greets, waving and smiling up at the girl as if her appearance made the Machop's day. Wesley gets off of the rock, a shy smile on his face as he walks towards her, stopping when they're within comfortable speaking distance. "I am ready," he says softly. "I'm really glad you came." He looks over the pokeball, though it's hard to tell he's doing so through the sunglasses. "And, wow, thanks for putting so much effort into this," he adds, shyly, though obviously pleased as punch. Happy grin. Grin, grin, pause, falter, confused look..."So, who's Nick?"

Sensing the annoyed tones of the pokemon, Melissa's anxiety intensifies. She shifts weight to her left leg, then her right, then her left again. "I... if that's not enough," she says, a quiet tinge of desperation in her voice. "I've got my Dugtrio, Scoop... She, um..." Wow, and she thought Wesley would be impressed with the fact that she has her very own rock type. Joke's on her. Spike's friendly words and Fightfight's cheerful attitude work together to release a little of Melissa's stress, and she looks down at the two pokemon before her, smiling slightly. "Puff's just fine..." She hesitates for a moment, as though searching for a name, but can come up with nothing; as such, she tries to cover it up by widening her smile. "Mom's... home, she's taking care of him with... um, lunch and all." She looks like she could say more, but Wesley's presense snaps her attention to him, and she slowly shifts her head to him, adjusting her glasses. "Nick is... well, um.... Nick is my Graveler," she announces, now turning her head to the rest of the pokemon and speaking in a clear, impressive voice, as though this might renew their confidence in her. "That's... um, an evolved... Geodude, I believe." She cants her head slightly, looking to Wesley for an affirmation.

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

It could be considered a compliment that Wesley just assumed she a rock type. Wesley nods at the idea of session with Scoop, muttering, "Maybe after the session with Nick," in a way that shows he's not displeased with the idea but it's not of the utmost importance. <Wow, human food!> Spike certainly seems impressed at the treatment Puff gets. "Hush Spike," Wesley hisses in order to hear Melissa's response. The news of Nick is greeted with rather unflatteringly (or not, depending on his Melissa takes it) raised eyebrows and slack jaw from Wesley. "Wow..." he manages. An excited <All right! Go Melissa!> comes from Fistfight, completely with arm-pumping a whoop! <That's cool,> Spike says cheerfully. Quickstrike looks surprised, while the Bulbasaur, who has less time to form opinions on Melissa, looks pleased; Seafarer snorts. Once Wesley finds his tongue (and overcomes his shock), he turns backwards and says proudly, "/Three/ evolved pokemon," in a most pointed manner. He then looks back to Melissa, smiling broadly. "That's /so/ cool." <So the girly girl gets the evolved ones, but the boy who wants to be a Pokemon Master doesn't have any?> ThoughtThief mutters. Wesley can't ignore that dig easily - his hand at his side clenches into a fist for few seconds - but he distracts himself by quickly asking, "So, do you want to let him out? Maybe Nick could choose which of my pokemon he, ah, wants to spar with."

Melissa can't help but giggle slightly at Spike's reaction, raising her fingertips to her lips as she does so. She takes in a breath to reply to the Nidoran, but after he is shushed, Melissa takes the hint. Upon being met with cheers and flabbergasted expressions, Melissa blushes fiercely, raising her arm to idly scratch her cheek. "H... he's been with me a while," she says quietly, becoming more and more red. Upon Wesley's suggestion, she nods once or twice and takes a step backward, before whirling around and flinging the pokeball at the ground. "Come out, Nick!" Fwoosh! The tiny device spits out a pink light from which manifests a good sized, rather fat looking pokemon, comprised of a hard shell made of solid rock. <Ohhhh, yeah!!> he barks upon emergence from the pokeball, slamming all four of his giant hands together with enthusiastic speed. "Um... Nick, this is... Wesley, you know, the boy I tol-" <Yeeeeah! Wesley! We gon' fight? Whoo! Whoo! I love fighting! Give 'im a one, two, one, two, bam!> And he punches at the air rapidly, hopping up and down in short bursts as he does. "N... Nick, choo-" <And then blammo! I win! Bam! Pow!> "N... Nick! St-" <Watch me, Melissa! This is going to be for -you-!> His lower hands clap together, and he points at the trainer with his right upper hand, giving her a wink. Melissa just blushes.

Wesley watches eagerly for Melissa's evolved pokemon. Once it is out, he looks it up and down, and gives a soft "...woah.." that'll likely go unheard due to how loud the pokemon is. It's this loudness that makes Wesley wince and take a furtive step backwards, though his eyes remain riveted to the four-armed boulder. <Not that big,> Quickstrike comments, arms crossed over her chest. Spike takes it upon himself to translate for his trainer, as Fistfight is busy waving and calling <Hello!> to Nick, the Bulbasaur is looking the rock type up and down, the Squirtle is getting to his feet with a harumph of annoyance, and ThoughtThief is covering his sensitive ears. <He knows who you are now he says he's gonna fight 'whoo whoo' he loves it one two three two bam he wins bampow and...> gasp for breath, <he's gonna fight for Melissa!> Spike shouts to his trainer, his sides heaving once the translation is finished. "...Enthusiastic," Wesley weakly comments. The boy takes a deep breath and then says, rather loudly, "Say..uh, Nick, do you have any ideas about which of my pokemon you'd like to battle? ..S..Sir?" He doesn't know how to address evolved pokemon. <I can take him,> Quickstrike says as she steps forward, confident as always. <Anything that'll shut 'im up,> ThoughtThief grumbles.

"Very," Melissa replies softly, one eyebrow perked at the Graveler's exuberance. "Usually he's... active, but not this... bad..." Nick doesn't take any notice; he's too busy looking down at Spike, half-grinning as he flexes for the male Nidoran. <Do you really want to see me in action, little girl?> he asks him, trying to make his voice calm and soft and failing pretty miserably. <Do you? Do you?> No reply is necessary. Straightening his stance as best as a Graveler can, Nick scans over the crowd of pokemon, quirking up slight smiles at some of them. He gives Wesley an extra long look, perhaps as though he's actually entertaining the thought of taking Wesley himself on. He passes over soon enough. <I... have made my decision!> he booms. He stretches out both of his left hands wide, exposing his palms to his other hands, which clench up into a fist and pound into the other. <I'm going to take on that one!> And he points at Quickstrike, grinning confidently all the while. Melissa sighs softly, idly rubbing the back of her neck. "Okay... Nick. Whatever you like." She looks at Wesley, rather apologetically.

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

"I find some of my pokemon get more excited when there's a chance to fight rather than just train..well, those that like to fight do, at least," Wesley comments sagely to Melissa, trying to sound like a wise Pokemon Master in the making. Spike smiles broadly until he's called a girl, at which he blinks quite a few times. <I'm a boy,> he notes, confused as to how anyone could think he was a female Nidoran. As Wesley is examined by the stone soldier, he raises his head, throws back his shoulders and widens his stance slightly. It really doesn't make him look any cooler, and provokes a snicker from a few of his less-than-loving pokemon. As Quickstrike is pointed out, she slams her gloves together, her eyes slanting it what would be a vicious grin had she a mouth. The kid nods curtly. "Move back, guys," he says to the rest of his pokemon. They do, and soon a field of battle is made with Quickstrike facing Nick. She begins to jab at the air furiously, her gloves becoming a blur of red, her stance never faltering. "Now, one last thing...is this a knockout fight, or do we go for a certain number of hits? I'd suggest three," Wesley says, "if that's all right, Melissa. ..A-and Nick. And, er, Quickstrike." <I'll fight him to his /very/ bitter end,> the fighting type quips as she jogs on the spot. "Er..." Wesley looks to Melissa.

Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape.

Melissa smiles at Wesley when he speaks, a slightly more relaxed look coming onto her face. "Nick just... likes picking fights. But he's not a bad guy," she notes, gesturing to the Graveler, who is just now apologizing to little Spike for being gender confused. <Really didn't mean anything!> he exclaims, switching his attention back and forth from Nidoran to Hitmonchan. When Spike retreats with the rest of the pokemon, the big galoot steps back with his left leg, beckoning forward the fighting type with all four of his hand. <C'mon! Ohhh, yeeeeah!> Melissa looks to Wesley when he looks at her, and she exchanges a quick glance with him before turning back to the battle quickly. "Um, th... three hits is fine." She nods, takes a step away from Wesley, pauses, and turns around. "Oh, um... um, good luck! I'll do my best... just... make sure you do too!" And without waiting for a reply, Melissa, her face becoming flush, spins around and scurries to her place behind Nick, fidgiting with the pokeball in her hand.

Spike is a happy little rabbit, and accepts the apology with a quick, <No problem!> Quickstrike is a happy big...humanoid thing at the prospect of a fight, and chuckles loudly. Once Wesley receives confirmation, he smiles a bit and nods. Melissa's words cause him to put a bit of thought into what he says next, so it's a good few seconds before he responds. If this were any other person, he'd just say something casual. "Of course I'll do my best, Melissa," he says shyly, looking at Melissa's face. "And I'm absolutely certain you'll do just...perfectly fine." It's a good thing Wesley's wearing sunglasses to cover up the pink hearts in his eyes - the glasses don't cover up the pinkness in his cheeks. The boy then scampers over to his spot behind Quickstrike and surveys the battlefield. Fistfight is passing out the bottle of water to the watching pokemon as Wesley plans out his strategy. "Right. Quickstrike, Agility," he orders, cool and curt. Quickstrike rushes forward. And then to the left. And then to the right. And then she circles around Nick, feet pounding, legs churning and form blurring as she tries to complete her attack.

Melissa was perhaps not expecting an attack so soon. There's no reason why; she doesn't reply to Wesley's comment, Nick is totally ready for an attack, and Quickstrike is raring and ready to go. Still, she can't help but gasp when the Hitmonchan dashes around, and she takes a step back. Her mind races for an attack. Think. Think. Nick is slow... that Hitmonchan looks fast... "Nick!" Melissa calls, making a little jump as her mind settles upon the perfect move for this situation. "I... I think she's going to do something!" She? Did Wesley previously tell her that Quickstrike was female? Must be... "Quickly... Defense Curl!" The Graveler seems obviously dishearted by his trainer's request, but he's never been one to doubt her. Placing his higher two hands over where his ears would be (it's no easy stretch for him, but he somehow manages) and wrapping his lower limbs around his chest, the rock type squats down, assuming a defensive position. He attempts to keep an eye on the Hitmonchan to keep from being caught totally off guard, but it's difficult for him.

Wesley has owned Geodudes before, one quite recently, and has a somewhat good memory of their attacks. When Melissa orders her Defense Curl, the youngster frowns for a few seconds, trying to come up with a plan. At least it wasn't Earthquake. Fistfight is happily cheering for Quickstrike - lots of <Woohoo!>s and <Slam him!>s going on over there, with Spike throwing in a few <Yeah!>s in there. The others watch nonchalantly. Nobody seems to notice Melissa's ability to tell pokemon gender. Any thought of such thing is gone as Quickstrike rushes in with Agility built-up speed, both of her fists swinging outward at the same time. She rushes at him from behind, eyes on his two extra arms as she tries to get him with a Counter attack. But will the Defense Curl hold?

"Roll!" cries Melissa when she realizes what Quickstrike is going to do. "Don't look back, roll! Dodge!" Unfortunately, Nick isn't quite the smartest rock on the mountain, and instead of doing as his trainer requests, he turns his head to see a giant punch glove heading right towards his face.

Quickstrike <Hah!>s as Nick goes sprawling, though she doesn't immediately zip around again, instead taking the opportunity to catch her breath. Wesley takes a deep breath, wiping some of the sweat off of his forehead. He swallows and mutters, "Water bottle," to Fistfight, who promptly hands it to him. The boy wipes it off and takes a swig just as Nick rushes forward. Well, having water in his mouth doesn't help one shout out a command, so Wesley quite simply doesn't. Instead, he finds himself looking at Melissa to see how she's holding up...and also to wonder if she has a water bottle - now that he's not thinking of the fight or waiting for his best friend, he's really beginning to feel how hot it is today.

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

Melissa would probably decline a water bottle at this point. Drinking from a water bottle requires taking a split second away from the battle, and that's something that the girl wouldn't be able to do right now. "C'mon, Nick!" she cries when Quickstrike dodges the attack. Thankfully, the momentum gives him enough speed to simply run right back the Ice Punch, and he doesn't even feel its coolness as he dashes by. It takes him a second or two to screech to a halt without falling over. He whirls around. His face has that confident, heroic smile on his face once more, as though he's winning this battle. Sure doesn't look like it. <Oh yeah, I'm ready for an *attack*!> he calls out to Melissa, who blushes slightly. Her pokemon is such a cheeseball. Well, let's see. There's a decent distance between Quickstrike and Nick... and it's a rocky field... "Nick! Attack with Rock Throw!" <Now that's what I'm talkin' about!> barks the Graveler, snickering to himself as he leans over, picks up the biggest boulder he can find quickly, and immediately hurls it right towards Quickstrike. He's going for speed, but Rock Throw is by no means a quick attack; if the Hitmonchan knows what Nick's planning, she may be long gone by the time the boulder is even thrown. If she tries a stationary attack or walks in a straight line towards Nick, however, this might not be an easy attack to avoid.

The sun shines overhead, bracketed by puffy fair weather clouds.

Wesley grins a little, eyes on his friend. Melissa is so cool. And his pokemon think she's a bad battler! While Wesley has had Geodudes before, he hasn't had Quickstrike spar with them as much as he could have...Quickstrike tries to dodge, just a bit too late. Who knew Graveler could move so fast? <Ooof!> yelps Quickstrike as she tumbles to the ground, her eyes narrowed to fight against the pain. Wesley blinks as Spike and Fistfight awww is sympathy (and ThoughtThief laughs). Oh yeah - the battle. The fighting type growls as she tries to shove herself out from under the rock, eventually managing it with an exceptionally loud, <Hrrraaah! Time to grind you into gravel, stone-boy!> Insults aren't her thing. "Quickstrike, Agility," Wesley orders quickly. The Hitmonchan doesn't obey. She springs to her feet - with a wince - rushes towards Nick, using her already gained Agility to make this attack a rather zippy one. Her left fist swings backward and then forward, glowing with a pokemon's inner energy as she tries to Mega Punch Nick right on the kisser!

Melissa isn't currently concerned with what little Wesley thinks of her as a battler, because she's oblivious to everybody except Nick, Quickstrike, and the field. She hasn't noticed the glances he keeps giving her. "Yes!" Her hands thrust up into the sky when Nick's boulder goes through, and she hops once or twice, propelled by the spirit of the fight. "Good job, Nick! Keep it up!" Hey, one hit against The Ultimate Master is good enough for her! Speaking of him, she hears his command, and a devious little grin spreads onto her face. "They're not attacking, Nick!" she cries to comfort the Geodude. "T... Trip her up! You have time! Use Earthquake!" Earthquake is one of the slowest moves in Nick's arsenal, but as far as Melissa's concerned, he has plenty of time for it. Nick closes his eyes, concentrating power into his limbs. He's about to strike the ground and force a ripture through it to stop the Hitmonchan's Agility, but he's met with a huge surprise. Unable to see her with his eyes closes, Nick becomes conscious of incredible shocking pain in his jaw before falling over onto his back, seeing stars from the force of the Mega Punch. Melissa just stares. Jaw dropped. Eyes huge. She slowly turns to Wesley, baffled. "Wow... that's ingenious..." she mumbles to herself, bewildered. "Call one attack and... mean another... Wesley, you're brilliant!"

In contrast to Melissa, Wesley is calm. Not quite perfectly, for his sunglasses hide eyes that dart across the field and his jaw clenches in anticipation of attacks, but those actions are small. Fistfight is the one who most resembles Melissa, hooting and hollerin' it up - though with pauses for breath in there as well, as all this cheering can tire an old gal out! Wesley frowns, expecting that Melissa's order will hurt Quickstrike further...that is until Quickstrike shows that she didn't even listen to him. Once Nick is on his back, the Hitmonchan gives a short whoop of victory, before subjecting the fallen Nick to a rapid series of punches commonly called a Comet Punch attack. She wants to see how well that stone hide weathers her quick hits. "Quickstrike, let him get to his--" Wesley's admonishment is cut off by Melissa's words. The boy looks to her, his face basically saying 'I'm a what now?' "...Uhhh?" he asks. ThoughtThief bursts into mocking laughter, Fistfight looks as confused as Wesley, while Spike says, <Yeah, you are!> in that cheery, ignorant of the circumstances way he has.

Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape.

Nick doesn't even have a chance. Still halfway knocked out from the shock of the Mega Punch and unable to get half a chance to stand up, the Comet Punch is met with little resistance. <Owowowowowowowow!> growls the Graveler, four arms flailing wildly but not gripping onto anything. With a silent curse and a head shake, Melissa, shrugging her shoulders with a sad smile on her face, waves her hand to Wesley. "I... think that's three, Wes." Holding up her pokeball, Melissa recalls Nick quickly, before the Graveler can get too hurt from the flurry of fists stemming from Quickstrike's anger. She still seems a little shocked, as though the absolute brilliance of Wesley's tactical move is still astounding her.

Quickstrike gives a short <Awww, man!> as Nick is recalled, but she brightens up as she realized her Comet Punch succeeded - Wesley had mentioned that it might not, since it's one of her speedier but weaker attacks - and that she won the fight. <Yeah! I brought that /macho/ loudmouth to his knees!> she shouts, striding over to Wesley with a strut in her steps...and a great red bruise on her chest from that flying boulder. "If he'd actually have used that Earthquake, I think this would have turned out differently," Wesley notes, more thinking out loud than actually talking to anybody. <No it wouldn't have,> Quickstrike replies easily, before greeting the enthusiastic Fistfight and Spike. Even the Squirtle gives a grudging compliment. The boy frowns, avoiding an Earthquake attack seems almost impossible, but then turns his attention to a much nicer person. Melissa. "Thank you very much for the practice, Melissa," he says, his voice slightly sympathetic. Wesley is no stranger to losing. "It helped me...really get a handle on just what it's like to see one of my pokemon go up against an evolved rock type, and I know it helped Quickstrike. I bet..." his expression creeps to a downcast one, "I bet Brock has a bunch of evolved types. Probably a Golem or a Rhydon."

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

Were Melissa to have been defeated by a "lesser" opponent, she would most likely not take this as well as she does. She regards Quickstrike with a small smile, shaking her head slightly at the Hitmonchan, still bubbling with energy and confidence. "I'm just sorry..." Melissa says helplessly, her head still bobbling back and forth. "... That I couldn't put up more of a fight." Her voice carries the usual tone of disappointment - after all, she did lose - but she won't invoke feelings of overwhelming pity in any except the very most melodramatic. "But... but this is Nick's first battle, so... um, maybe he did all right?" She looks at Wesley now, lifting her eyebrows slightly, cheeks puffing up into a big smile. She's fishing for compliments. She knows Wesley knows she's fishing for compliments. She doesn't care.

Melissa's voice manages to pull Wesley out of the funk he's rapidly descending into. "It's all right, Melissa," he says, voice still hovering around the sympathetic mark. "There'll be other battles." He gives a little shrug here, adding after a pause, "both for me and for you." His best friend's whopping smile causes a much smaller version to break out over Wesley's face. "'Course he did," he replies sincerely, bobbing his head twice. "He held up for a good while in the fight and I know Quickstrike won't forget that Rock Throw." <Hey, speak for yourself,> Quickstrike grumps, annoyed that her victory is being marred. To this, Wesley's grin becomes a bit more...crafty, an odd expression on this kid's face. "I'll make sure you don't," he notes dryly. Wesley's being funny; must be a blue moon tonight. <Yeah, he did great!> Fistfight says, giving Melissa a thumbs up. "Maybe he'll evolve if you give him a few more battles," Wesley says suddenly, excited by the prospect. "Golem are...pretty cool."

Melissa idly glances down at the pokeball in her hand, rubbing her thumb on the small crack between the white and red hemispheres. She seems almost mesmerized, hypnotized by the little device, and it's not until Wesley starts speaking that she snaps back into reality and sets the pokeball back onto its spot on her belt. She giggles softly at the interactions between Hitmonchan and trainer, though it's an uncomfortable, forced one; considering the look she gives Quickstrike, it's rather apparent that she doesn't care much for the fighting type. "A... Golem?" she responds, glancing to the rocks at her left side, then on her right side. "... I remember them. The, um, the really... big ones, right?" As though to emphasize her point, the teenage girl lifts her arms and bends them slightly, palms facing each other, creating a "this big?" appearance. "... That'd be pretty tough," she says softly, another light smile forming on her face.

Wesley's brow furrows in thought, but he eventually comes up with, "Golem are..quite big. But they're more heavy than tall, if I remember correctly. I've never really seen one, so I can't judge accurately." Pause. "But I remember that they looked really cool!" the kid grins. Quickstrike manages to catch Melissa's look, and once she's finished bragging to the eye-rolling Bulbasaur she shoots Melissa a quick glance of dislike and 'don't mess with me' vibes - the same look a popular girl would give the school nerd. <We gotta listen to the fighter blab all day about how she beat a pokemon that's never battled before, or do we actually get to do something?> ThoughtThief asks, elliciting a <Yaar! Tell it, mind-muncher!> from Seafarer the Squirtle. Fistfight sighs while Spike just grins. <I like listening to the humans talk!> he squeaks happily. "...Ah, Melissa, are you still up for that battle with Scoop?" Wesley asks, a bit more nervously than before. After all, it's quite obvious his pokemon are browbeating him into this - and Pokemon Masters aren't the peons of their own pokemon.

Melissa grins at Wesley's enthusiasm over the Golem. She should have suspected Golem would be one of those "boy" pokemon that every male under the age of twelve thinks is the best. Thankfully Melissa is paying too much attention to Wesley to notice the Hitmonchan's glare, though the girl does turn her head when ThoughtThief speaks. No matter that she can't understand him. "What... are your pokemon saying?" she inquires, cocking her head very slightly at the Squirtle's cheer. "Usually mine stay quiet with themselves... I mean, you know, not always ignore, but usually don't... talk." Sensing this conversation is on a downward spiral, Melissa flows right into her answer to Wesley's question. "Scoop? Well... I... do you?" She tries to keep her voice neutral, but the tinge of "No, not really" is quite prevalent in her tone of voice. It's a hot day, and she just lost; who can blame her?

Wesley winces when Melissa talks about her own pokemon. "My pokemon are...very vocal sometimes. Especially when they're bored and stuff, and it's hot," he gives a little gesture upwards, to the sun above. A few seconds later what Wesley actually said sinks into the kid's brain. "Uh!" he blurts out. "I mean, not that they're always bored when you're around!" he adds hastily. <What world are you living in?> snarks ThoughtThief. <The world where the kid's in love with her,> Quickstrike replies, eyes slanted in a smirk. Fistfight can't quite bite back a giggle and Spike looks between Wesley and Melissa, confused - they're outside! How can they be in something? ThoughtThief looks up at Quickstrike, surprised. <Woah, you actually noticed something.> The Hitmonchan sighs. <You mention it /every single day/, so, yeah, I picked it up.> This little conversation distracts them from Wesley, who, as soon as the (completely untrue) 'l' word is mentioned, has detached three pokeballs. In three separate flashes Quickstrike, ThoughtThief and Seafarer are recalled. Wesley takes in a deep breath and lets it out, but he still looks rather peeved. "My pokemon talk because they like to think they're smart, when they're just jerks," he grumps. Hey, if Melissa keeps him talking about this, maybe he'll forget about the possible Scoop battle!

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

Melissa nods slowly without replying to Wesley's first comment. She does, however, laugh openly at the next part, raising her hand to her mouth to stifle the sounds. "I knew what you meant," she assures him warmly, her cheeks red from the mirth. It's a good thing that Spike, the only pokemon Melissa can understand, hasn't mentioned anything about Wesley in love with her, or this conversation would be far from as cheerful as it is. "They're just excited. Why? What were they saying?" She holds some casual interest, but there's no vehement overpowering desire in her voice; she doesn't suspect a thing about the conversation of the pokemon. Crisis averted. For now. Let's hope Wesley can think fast enough to reply without fainting.

Wesley's expression does drift to relieved when Melissa is graceful and kind enough to find the good in his comment and not the bad. The boy freezes at Melissa's innocent questions. He becomes a Wesley statue, unable to think, speak or, apparently, breathe. <So...you're in what now?> Spike asks, still looking between Wesley and Melissa. Fistfight is kind enough to stop giggling and quickly pat her trainer on the hand - both to comfort him and to jolt him back to the land of the living. "...Bwuh.." is the closest thing to the noise that the kid makes when his jaw slowly creaks open. <You can lie,> Fistfight whispers quickly. <About what?!> the pink lapine whines. <Tell yah later, Spikey-boy,> she says to Spike with false cheerfulness. Spike huffs and looks to Melissa imploringly, as if she can help him figure this out. With a supreme effort of will, Wesley forces words past the panic in his chest. "..S...Sometimes, uh, they make f..fun of me 'cuz I'm getting older. ThoughtThief," there's a tightness in his tone at the name, "knows about puberty, and he says I'm gonna get pimples and get a squeaky voice'n stuff and...and my other pokemon sometimes go with it, and I think some of them like laughing at me. Sometimes." No respect, no respect at all. And, look, he didn't quite lie! "...So, yeah..." he finishes, sulky and uneasy.

Another girl might giggle or grin at the thought of talking to boy about his going through puberty, but sure enough Melissa's maturity shines through, and she only nods while Wesley speaks. She crosses her arms across her chest as Wesley comes to an end, and furrowing her eyes behind her glasses, she glares at the area where the three pokemon were before being recalled. "That's pretty rude," she asserts, shifting her weight to her other leg. "There's... nothing funny about that. Right, Fistfight?" Looks like Melissa's fallen for it, hook, line, sinker. Perhaps she thinks that his discomfort and uncertainty is all a direct result of talking to an older girl about something that is admittedly pretty embarrassing. He's quite skillfully tricked her. Go Wesley. She holds out her hand to Fistfight, not implying that she should touch it, just gesturing that the conversation is in her court now.

And then the wise judge of words speaks, finding innocence where there is guilt and belief where there should be none. ...Whew! While the teen-to-be does feel relief, there's also a fair share of guilt mixed in with that emotion. He is such a...As Fistfight in motioned to, the older pokemon smiles, her own hand reaching up and clutching Wesley's. The kid doesn't hold Fistfight's hand in return. <Well, I'm not the best girl to ask, 'cuz Wes here will always be my little guy who usedta run around saying "Machop maaaachop!" when he was a little baby.> "Fistfight..." grumbles Wesley. <But I know he's gonna grow up good, and handsome -> the old gal chuckles, <- and a strong young man, even if he ain't a Pokemon Master or whatever. No matter what comes in between.> Those rose-coloured glasses must come in handy. <Oh, say, Melissa, did you understand that?> Spike asks suddenly. Wesley is too stunned at the nightmare playing before his eyes to respond immediately. <'Cuz she just said that Wesley was a baby and he said "Machop" when he was a baby and Fistfight says he's gonna be strong and handsome and--> "Spike!" yelps an ashen-faced young trainer. "Quiet!" <Oh, okay,> sighs the little rabbit. Wesley is staring at the ground like it's the most fascinating thing in existence.

And though she can't understand a single word from the elderly pokemon, Melissa listens closely, as though trying to pick something out of her body language. She comes up totally short, but thankfully Spike's translation offers her enough information to understand what the Machop is talking about. And she can't help but giggle. "You... ran around saying 'Machop'?" Melissa asks, chuckling even more. "That is so..." She hesitates for a moment. What is it? Stupid? Immature? Demented? "Cute!" After a moment more of feminine reactions to the image of a little boy running around in her head, she settles down, nodding to Fistfight. "Oh, b-but he is, isn't he?" the teenager says, as though Wesley isn't even listening. "I think..." And she turns to face him, scrutenizing his whole body with a smile on her face. Her arms hug her chest tighter. "... I think that he'll grow up... to be a great man. You can tell because he's great now."

Wesley's grumpy Bulbasaur chuckles softly, and Wesley sees fit to detach his pokeball and recall him as well, slipping his hand out of Fistfight's. He doesn't even bother to look back and aim properly, trusting in the recall beam to find its target. It does, and Melissa's decision of "Cute!" comes right when he's about to attach the pokeball to his belt. He drops the thing, but catches it in mid-fall and clumsily clips it onto his belt. "...Fistfight was 'round lots.." he mutters, though Melissa's likely wouldn't be able to hear it. <Exactly!> Fistfight responds to Melissa's next words, after which she hugs Wesley, wrapping her arms tightly aroun his waist. <Yay!> giggles Spike. <I always knew you were great!> As for Wesley...well, he'd sell his soul to get out of this conversation. He'd sell his soul to have Melissa see him as he sees himself - just a kid, simple and silly and shy. He slowly raises his eyes from the ground, though they stop at Melissa's knees. "..Th-Thanks," he murmurs, and continues speaking in a low murmur that picks up speed as stumbles through his words. "..Uh, Melissa...you're my best friend. And as..." he exhales sharply, "'kay, umm..much as you mean to me...wait, no...I just mean, uh, you're my best friend. And thanks for the battle."

Well, this is getting awkward fast. Or, rather, even more awkward even faster. At Wesley's irritating recalling of his pokemon, his dropping of the pokeball, and his overall very uncomfortable speech, Melissa runs a hand through her hair, idly scratching at the back of her next as she does so. "You're my best friend too, Wesley," she says, though she doesn't quite have that spark of enthusiasm that she expressed just a few moments ago. "If you... if you like, you can come to my house. Mom's makin' lemonade and iced tea, and she said, um, she might even have some ice cream, too." She shrugs her shoulders helplessly, as if trying to casually suggest that she's cool with it if Wesley doesn't want to. Even if it's quite evident that she does.

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

A light rain falls from a grey sky. It's warm and there's a slight wind from the southeast.

Wesley does smile, though it's a mere twitch of the mouth, as Melissa confirms what he already knows. At least he managed to give her some type of compliment back. He couldn't just let that "he'll be a great man" subject stand out in the open like that. He looks Melissa full in the face, a bit surprised at the offer. <Hey, great!> Fistfight says, springing out of the hug. <Lemonade! And..uh, iced tea! Even nicer! ..I hope!> <Yeah!> seconds Spike, hopping up and down on his little paws. "That'd be nice," Wesley agrees finally, his smile becoming a full one (though, as usual, not too big). After all, with her mother around, the conversation would be simple and easy, without things like greatness or growing up or best friends mixed in. Because you can't actually talk about those things with other humans around. "So..." he makes a gesture to Pewter City, beginning to lead the way there with his pokemon following. After the third or so step, he looks back at Melissa. Who knows, she might change her mind.

Melissa lets Wesley take the first step or two before following herself, her pace not quite so brisk as it was when she first marched onto the battlefield for the day. The day's warmth has taken a toll on her, and the girl has to raise her arm to her forehead to dab at the sweat collected there. "We... we'll need to stop by the pokemon center to heal... and mom needs milk." Looks like Melissa's the errand girl today. Melissa will only strike up a conversation if Wesley will accept one. As she walks, she will enjoy the sun on her face as she walks around, smiling as a breeze flies by, bending down to pluck up a freshly grown flower squeezed between two rocks - that sort of thing. A simple walk with a good friend is all she needs to put herself in a good mood, even after a crushing loss.