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

Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west. The wind is gusty. In the forest, fiery red, gold, and orange leaves rustle and blow past you, swirling in the wind. While at the coast, the sea is a warm blue, reflecting the saved warmth from the summer, and the waves are gentle.

It's a fine afternoon on the island - seems as though that's a rarity these days. The sky doesn't threaten to rain, and no fog has descended to earth. One can see for miles should the terrain allow. Needless to say, it's a wonderful day for a trainer to get out, and that is the mindset of Melissa Barlette, seventeen year old city girl, as she leans upon her rock, a book in her hand. She doesn't seem to be reading it, however; she's looking upon the rocky field ahead, and most of her attention is focused on abstract thoughts. Near her feet are not one but two pokemon - her Ivysaur, Lamia, and her Nidoran, Puff - but both seem to be fast asleep, using the rock as a way to soak up the sunlight without having the uncomfortable wind blow right into them.

There's no fog or rain...but there is wind. It seems almost sentient today. It blows and gusts over the island, throwing dying leaves from the trees of Viridian Forest and forcing clouds across the azure sky. The reckless wind is also making papers fly out of the hands of small artistic Charmanders everywhere. <Come back!> shrieks Leochardo as he chases after his paper as if it contained his soul. <That was my special originalist portrait!> <Yar, can y'not draw a new one?> drawls a pirate-accented Squirtle as he leans against a rock. His face has six scars criss-crossing his sky-blue face, crossing his lips and almost missing his eyes. "Calm down, Leo." This rather unconcerned comment comes from little Wesley Brier, who is sitting on the rock Seafarer the Squirtle is leaning against. The boy's hair is finally back in its traditional mushroom cut - there's less of it blowing around his face. There is, however, a young Ekans around his neck. And two more around his wrists. All three are simply watching the world go by. Leochardo isn't, however. The Charmander is rushing after his wind-tossed paper, oblivious to anything else.

With very sudden movements, Melissa bursts into a yawn and, leaning further back into the rock, stretches her arms out above her head as high as they will go. Her clothing seems ill-suited for the windy weather, but she doesn't seem to mind the gusts, even as her brownish-blonde hair blows across her often-red cheeks and glass-protected eyes. After her little exercise is completed, Melissa gets off the rock and ascends to an erect posture, glancing down at the pokemon at her feet. "You, um, you guys feel like a walk?" Lamia just grumbles, but Puff's eyes immediately blink right open as he springs off of the ground, bouncing around Melissa's ankles. <A walk would be fun!> Melissa smiles sweetly down at her little poison type, before glancing over at the Ivysaur. "Are you coming too?" But Lamia doesn't immediately reply with anything more than a grunt.

>> Oo, Wesley looked at you. Why not write a book about him? <<

Wesley leans back on his rock and sighs lightly, his exhalation completely inaudible with the wind around him. "Right, Purple, Suave, how about you two try some training?" he says. His voice is toneless and his face lacks expression - Wesley's not terribly enthused at the prospect, it seems. But why would Mister, the world's /greatest/ trainer, not care if his pokemon are trained? Curiouser and curiouser. Suave and Purple, the Ekanslette's on his wrists, don't seem to mind. The slither onto the rock and then down it, Purple taking a bit of a tumble. <You okay?> Suave asks, and Purple nods before getting into a striking position. "Kannsss!" says Suave, jerking into a striking pose as well...and just barely dodging the Poison Sting thrown at him. <Ye be wantin' me tah help, trainer?> asks the Squirtle, though he sounds too lazy to actually care what the answer is. "No," the pale child responds. Maybe it's just a boring day for Team Wesley. Not for Leo. The wind is stealing his originalist portrait! It was his specialist drawing ever. Eeeever! He squeals in frustration as he runs down the human path, trying to grab his masterpiece. And failing. Cruel wind.

Lamia does eventually reply, after Puff bounds over to her and prods her with his head. <Let's go on a walk! C'mon! I'm bored! It'll be fun.> <I... am...> The Ivysaur sighs, struggling to get up to all four claws. <Getting way too old for this.> She glances up at her trainer with a little grin, to which Melissa replies with her own. "Come on," she says soothingly, "Maybe we'll find a pokemon." <You mean like that one?> Puff squeaks. Melissa and Lamia appropriately turn their heads to the path, and all three blink in unison at what they see. "It's..." <A Charmander!> Melissa and Puff immediately take off towards the path, hoping to head the little fire-type off - but Lamia, wise as she is, seems to realize that the Charmander isn't just running for the heck of it, like Melissa's own Charmander would; he looks like he's chasing something. It's only a second later before she realizes just what it is. The painting. "Ivy!" With that, she bounds off to the path too, but at a different angle than Melissa; as she brings out her vines, she attempts to grab the paper, but she'll probably fail in fear of hitting her trainer or either of her two pokemon. <If only they'd stop moving,> the plant grumbles under her breath as she continues her (somewhat slow) sprint. It's hard to run and aim at the same time.

Leochardo is busy muttering curses under his breath at weather, and how it always tries to deprive the world of his great artistic works. Of course, his curses are a bit less wordy than that. <Stupid wind! Stupid rain! Stupid stupids!> is how they go. Now the paper veers to the left and is almost caught by a...what the heck? Leochardo is a bit more interested in the big blob of stuff that almost caught his paper; he slows down to check it out and forgets about his earth-shatteringly astounding masterpiece of unutterable skill. His small brain is so easily confused. (Or distracted, as the case may be - confusion is more Wesley's territory.) <What..are you?> he calls to Lamia. Has he noticed Puff or Melissa? Nooope. Back at the battle: Purple is struck by a small gob of Sludge from her brother; it's not enough to seriously harm her, and due to her type it doesn't poison her. The female throws herself forward and coils around Suave, catching him with a light Constrict attack. He responds with a small Bite that doesn't even break her skin. <Toughen it up, now!> orders Seafarer, but the snakelings pay him no mind. As for Wesley? He sits, an Ekans around his neck. Sits and ponders.

Snatch your backpack, steal your purse, save the data from this curse! (Psykitt-- eh, Saving)

Lamia sort of blinks at the Charmander's sudden halt, but she's not distracted for long: the brief period for where the paper is neither near girl and Nidoran nor Charmander is Lamia's big chance, and coming to a stop, the Ivysaur times one lash just so perfectly that her vine is able to wrap around it and reel it on in. <'D like to see some younger Bulbasaur do that,> the old pokemon mumbles to herself proudly as she keeps her left vine (the one with the paper) a little out of its sheath, keeping a tight grip on the paper. <What am I?> the Ivysaur repeats as she saunters toward the smaller fire-type, getting her head up high. <I'm an Ivysaur, although you can just call me...> She should now stretch out her vines once again, dumping the paper right on top of Leochardo if he doesn't move. Should he not retreat, the pokemon will continue with, <The saver of your paper.> Catchy. Melissa and Puff, in the meantime, just sort of watch. Um, just in case that Charmander decides to flee this way, they'll be able to head him off!

The young Charmander's jaw drops as Lamia's vine lashes out and takes his life-sustaining artwork. <Oooo! I wanna draw that!> he squeals, before pausing and glancing down at his paw. <Need paper..> he mutters. <My paper!> he blurts out. <I need my originalist port--> Leochardo begins anxiously, before he sees it in Lamia's vine. <Oh.> He blinks then grins broadly. <Thanks, saver of my paper! Can I have it back now? Then I can go back and get a pencil and draw you!> He giggles at the thought.

Lamia grins softly, wanting to tease the Charmander more but realizing that she's too old for that. Seeing as how the little fire type hasn't retreated, the Ivysaur will proceed to gently bring her vines into the little Charmander's reach, no matter how stubby and short his limbs may be. <Just take it,> she says soothingly, all the while getting closer and closer to the Charmander. <It means something to you, right?>

Wesley slows down somewhat. Maybe Leochardo's just talking to the person and pokemon? He hasn't known his Charmander to do that...but it could be possible. After all, just because he almost captured a girl's Bulbasaur is no reason to think this human and her team must be trying to capture his pokemon. He grimaces at the memory of the girl he met that day, and now that he's slowed down his attention turns to his shoe. Part of it is peeling off. Lovely. With a sigh, Wesley looks upward again. His eyes are caught by the moving figure. What he sees is a girl that makes him forget about other more demeaning members of femninity. Melissa. "Oh," he says in surprise, one eyebrow raised. His pace speeds up and his expression doesn't fade. <Think we better be headin' over there,> sighs Seafarer, who took it upon himself to keep an eye on his trainer. <Why?> grumbles Purple, in the middle of Leering at her more pacifistic brother. <With our luck, bitty mateys, it's The Girl.> You can hear the capital letters. Seafarer sets off slowly, while Suave hurriedly follows. With a disappointed hiss, Purple slithers forward as well.

The moment Wesley looks at her is the moment Melissa comes to a stop. In a half-pose, the girl's arms separate a couple inches from her sides (her hands are empty - she must have forgotten the book), palms facing towards Wesley. She doesn't speak until he gets a little closer; she waits until he's within semi-casual talking distance. "Um," she says softly, a tiny little grin perking up at the sides of her mouth. "Surprised to see me?" She was halfway expecting an ecstatic smile, maybe a jump, but Wesley always did surprise her with his actions. Puff, upon noticing the boy, leaps behind Melissa's ankles without a moment's hesitation, whimpering, <Isn't he the one with the Ekans who says she didn't want to eat me but really did?> Melissa pretty much ignores him, but this is nothing new. She always ignores him.

Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west. The wind is gusty.

Wesley comes to a stop, letting Melissa have her personal space and then some. Or maybe it's more for his benefit than hers. His hands, now loose, go into his jean pockets. As the boy looks up at his friend his face morphs slowly, switching from confusion to wariness to an almost pained expression. All of these soon exaporate as he sighs wearily and his face returns to normal. Normal meaning neutral for this kid. "I, uh, was surprised to see you, actually," he begins. "I was kind of...hoping this would be my thinking day." And Melissa ruined it for him. He doesn't say this, but it's pretty much implied. He sounds a bit bummed out, even if his face doesn't give many clues as to what he's feeling. His eyes drop from Melissa's face to look at the ground. And Puff, who happens to be close to it. <You met mother,> hisses the snake-'round-the-neck. <If you come any closer to my trainer, /I/ will eat you.> "Be nice," Wesley grumbles softly. He should practice what he preaches, in this case. Leochardo holds out his hands, waiting for his paper to arrive, babbling on about how he'll use just the right shading for drawing Lamia and how he's the best drawer ever and did you know he's a Warrior Bard...?

All the while as Wesley speaks, Melissa's heart sort of falls deeper and deeper into her chest, and by the time the boy's finished speaking, the girl seems rather depressed, and making virtually no actions to cover it. The reason for her acting so obvious isn't because she wants Wesley to pity him, it's because she feels comfortable enough around him to express herself without having to revolve around social pressures, but Wesley might not interpret this the same way. Most people probably wouldn't. "Oh," the girl emits, sort of shrugging her shoulders and putting on a faint smile. "Well, um, I was going to, uh, to go into the forest anyway. Catch, uh, catch a Pikachu, maybe. If, uh..." Her eyes turn distractedly to the rock field, and she uncertainly crosses her arms across her chest. "You can have your thinking day, I really don't mind." She, of course, rather obviously does - funny how the female mind works. Puff, in the meanwhile, just sort of peeps his head out from behind his trainer's legs, whimpering softly, <I won't! I won't! I really won't, just don't eat me! I don't taste good, anyway!> <Don't worry, Puff.> Lamia hasn't moved from her position, but she gives the Ekans a little glare whether the snake sees it or not. Turning back to the Charmander, the plant pokemon deposits it into his hands, her movements slow and gentle, nodding very slowly and vapidly as the Charmander babbles his nonsense.

Wesley frowns in thought after Melissa speaks, his eyes still downcast. "Well.." he mutters uncertainly. "I don't think I was getting much actual thinking done. At least, I didn't come up with an answer." He sighs, his hand going to scritch the Ekans around his neck who hisses in pleasure. "But!" Wes says suddenly. "If you, uh, want to search for Pikachu, feel free to. Please. Don't let me interrupt." <Who is The Girl?> asks Suave, the male Ekans as curious as ever. <She's comin' up,> Seafarer notes, pointing at Melissa, though his eyes go to Lamia and Puff as well. The little group is closing in. <You'll prolly see her 'round some. Most of us don' really lissen t'what The Girl says t'our boy - he either acts like a Magikarp outta water, or she does. But she'll be 'round fer a bit. They're,> he makes a face <friends.> Pirates don't need friends, you see. The Ekans around Wesley's neck is named Sentinel; she lives up to her name. As she notices Lamia's glare she hisses, but does nothing else to antagonize the Ivysaur. As Lamia speaks, Wesley's eyes go to her. "Oh!" he says, a light grin appearing on his features. He's more pleased to see Lamia than he is Melissa. Sigh. Maybe there's some hidden reason for it, though. Ooo...ambiguousness!

Snatch your backpack, steal your purse, save the data from this curse! (Psykitt-- eh, Saving)

Melissa smiles faintly as Wesley shows her pokemon extra attention, and resists the urge to simply shake her head. "Um," she says quietly, as if trying to get at least a little part of herself into the boy's mindset. "Her, uh, her name's Lamia, if you remember." Trying more and more to keep a grasp on the younger trainer's focus, she continues, "Um, um, an answer to what? I'm, uh, I'm good at puzzles. Maybe I can help?" Poor Melissa - it sounds like she's more desperate right now than anything else. In the meantime, Lamia herself is only giving Wesley the occasional glance and is otherwise ignoring him - oh, the irony - trying to keep herself aware of the Ekans, the Charmander, the Nidoran, and the oncoming pokemon. She's going to be the first one to react if that poisonous little snake tries anything, she assures herself.

The oncoming pokemon are no longer oncoming...they're here! <Hello,> Suave says to nobody in particular. His lemon-yellow eyes, glowing with an excitement that could be easily mistaken for a predatory gleam, rest on Puff. <Hey, another Spike!> Suave notes happily. Wesley tears his eyes away from Lamia to turn upward to Melissa. The expression in them is wary. Her words cause him to flinch visibly and suck in a quick breath. He holds it as his mind races. Then he exhales. Unintentionally, words come out with the breath. "I don't know what to do about ThoughtThief," the boy says quickly, and then looks thoroughly surprised with himself. Ah, that tricky subconscious! Little did he know he regards Melissa as a caring mother figure who can help him solve his problems! Wesley winces once, but continues, words pouring out like water. "I went to this seminar to help people with their problem pokemon. I tried talking to ThoughtThief, tried to ask him what I could do to get him to respect me but..but nothing worked. He didn't answer. Only said I was dumb and a kid and I couldn't understand him and...I'd trade him but I've worked so hard on him and it just keeps going over and over in my head until nothing makes sense!"

Melissa seems halfway surprised at how Wesley is actually revealing his problem to her, but she appropriately nods softly, one hand raised and stroking the hair blowing in the breeze. It's getting late, but the girl doesn't take a notice. "Oh, right." She pauses for a moment, her temperment dropping a little. "Him." She closes her eyes for a moment, giving off a soft little sigh and shifting her stance a little. She's silent for a few seconds, before her eyes slowly open, and she glances right into the pale boy's eyes. "Did you... talk to, uh, to Fistfight?" She hesitates slightly. "I really don't... understand her, but... but she seems like she might know..." The girl sort of trails off into nothingness here, the only noise coming from her side of the conversation being gentle whimpers as Puff nuzzles into the back of his trainer's ankles. He's oblivious to the conversation. Lamia, however, listens, but she remains entirely silent.

Wesley takes a deep breath. Wesley doesn't have much of a temper, and simply intaking air allows him to cool down. Melissa's question, now wait for it...confuses him. Woah. "Uh, of course I talked it over with Fistfight," Wesley says with a light frown and an abrupt head-tilt. "..Why wouldn't I?" Hey, kid, she doesn't know that Fistfight is a party to every detail of your life! "However, she's not much help," the pale boy says in the grumble of the defeated. His words are almost covered up by Leochardo's babbling, so he raises his voice a tad. "She's seen...more goodness in him than I ever have. 'Cuz she sees those kinds of things. She might say she hates him but..she doesn't. She can't. Fistfight doesn't know what to do. I don't know what to do." Wesley regards Melissa silently for a second, his face thoughtful. "And...I don't think you would know either," he says slowly, considering his words. "Because there's no reason you should." Come again? If he's going to explain something, he's not in a hurry. He also hasn't realized that it's late.

"I... um, guess I sort of assumed that..." the girl says uncomfortably, blushing fiercely and looking into the wind, hoping the powerful breezes will cool off her quickly heating face. "But I, um, I do understand," Melissa gets out with a little force, though she still doesn't look at him. "It's, um, it was the letter, wasn't it? It's partially my fault, and, a-and, um, that's why you, uh, you, uh, you say I wouldn't know." More and more insecurely, Melissa hugs tighter and tighter into herself. She's reasonably certain she's correct - in her mind, what other reason could there possibly be? No wonder Wesley seems to not really want to talk to her today...

Wesley takes up his time with staring at Melissa, trying to comprehend how her mind works. So, she understands, even when he just said there was no way she would? Wesley's intense mental calculations are abruptly shut down at the word 'letter'. His eyes widen and his mouth tightens into an upset expression. He doesn't respond for several seconds, but the hand within his pocket clenches and unclenches. "I...didn't mean anything about the..le...tter," Wesley eventually says, forcing toneless words past his chest. He takes in two quick gulps of air and his expression gradually relaxes. The letter is...history. Nothing he should be too concerned about. Not now, at any rate. He forces it to the back of his mind and locks the door. Another pause ensues as Wesley tries to formulate a coherent and correct response. At least eight seconds go by. When the response comes, it is halting, but other than that clearly spoken. "All right. Uh...I just meant that..that seminar was given by someone probably very, very well versed in helping out with problem pokemon. Even..even by listening to what she said, it didn't help me too much. I still don't know what to do. And...all your pokemon are so, so nice and stuff. You wouldn't, uh, know how to deal with this." He looks pleadingly up at Melissa. Does she understand now?

Melissa is quiet for about as long as Wesley is, her stance appearing nervous and uncomfortable. Somewhere in the back of her mind, this seems like some kind of twisted karma - where one is pleading for the help and the other simply doesn't get it. Melissa, however silly or foolish she may be at time, is not necessarily an idiot, and after carefully thinking out the entire situation, she offers a possible solution. "You..." She speaks slowly and softly, and as a result stutters very little. "Want me to... take ThoughtThief for a little while? ... See if I can't make him at least a little more soft and considerate?" Melissa gulps inaudibly, and if it wasn't so cool from the gusts, she might even be sweating softly. Did she misinterpret what Wesley said again?

Purple, gold, and vermillion clouds grace the western sky as the sun descends toward the west. And what is Wesley's response to Melissa's kind offer? To a plan of action that he's been searching for? An automatic, "No." Wesley seems to have a spark of awareness - Melissa seems to bring out the best of him in that respect. He notices that she's been uncomfortable, and he manages to figure out that his comment could probably hurt her feelings. A year ago he wouldn't have bothered to give an explanation. "ThoughtThief..he doesn't think much of both of us," Wesley says softly, but with an undertone of bitterness. "He...he hates you and me. I don't know why, and I'm not sure I want to know. Some, sometimes I can understand why he hates me. But..I can't understand why he hates you. I can't," he repeats firmly. His gaze turns inward even as he looks at his friend. "I'll...think of something, Melissa. I'll decide sometime." Something, sometime - Wesley's terribly unspecific about the whole thing. And even now he sounds defeated.

Snatch your backpack, steal your purse, save the data from this curse! (Psykitt-- eh, Saving)

Melissa is easy to insult. She puts too much thought into what others think, and has likely become antisocial all because of it. Given the average pokemon, she would feel hurt by realizing that something out there not only hates her, but her best friend, too. With ThoughtThief, however... the girl simply shakes her head, a little smile faintly visible on her face. "It's probably... just who I am. Having been, uh, brought up under your strong care... He, um, he probably thinks I'm weak. Weak and girly." Melissa gives a gentle laugh here, but it's not an overly friendly one; it's coupled with nervous stroking of the hair and a little shift of the feet. "But I couldn't..." Her hand drops, her arms become limp, and she sort of stares at Wesley for a few moments. "But I couldn't understand... wh-why he'd hate you. I... I..." A blush. Melissa's skin feels hot once again. "I'd find it... impossible to not... to not respect you."

The fair weather clouds in the west turn orange, gold, carmine, and purple as the sun sets. A chill wind blows from the west.

Wesley's ears gradually tune in to Melissa's words, and he uses them to drown out his repetative thoughts, which are mostly along the lines of how he still doesn't have a clear answer. Wesley listens to his best friend, though when she pauses and stares at him he bobs his head once, silently letting her know it's okay to continue. His formerly free hand slips back into his pocket in an attempt to warm it up. At Melissa's compliment, Wesley blinks two times. "Uh...thanks?" he says cautiously, his face reflecting surprise. He's been thinking so much about a pokemon that does the exact opposite of compliment that Melissa's comment doesn't immediately go down the right way. Surprisingly soon, it does. "T-Thanks," Wesley says in a soft murmur, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. "I, uh, that's exactly why ThoughtThief doesn't like you," Woah. Talk about anti-compliment. ..Fortunately, our socially inept trainer continues. "But I don't see that in you." Pause. "I, I mean you are girly, but all girls are." ..We're going back into anti-compliment territory. "And you don't..uh, aren't extremely strict with training, but that's better for your pokemon, I'm sure. Yours /evolve/ for you." He motions to Lamia. ...Compliment? Not compliment? It's up for Melissa to decide.

Melissa shifts her position a little, and she doesn't really know whether to take Wesley's comments as insults or just warped compliments on the boy's part. With a soft little smile, she apparently decides to accept them. "I understand, Wesley," the teenager says quietly, her hand once again raising to stroke through her hair. "But... I guess it's good to balance, um, both. If you don't train hard, your pokemon get lazy and, and, um, don't respect you... but if you, um, train them too harshly, they learn to fear and not like you." Words of wisdom they are not, but the general feeling is there. "Maybe... maybe ThoughtThief needs a little more... um..." She blushes at the word, and simply hopes it doesn't sound as stupid as she thinks it does. "... Bonding. Maybe if you bond more with ThoughtThief, he'll... you know... like you." This is like telling somebody worlds better than you how to do their job. Not an easy task.

Wesley should be really grateful to Melissa's ability to accept his silly words - does he have any idea how close he came to an incident of Friendship Festival proportions? None at all. At Melissa's suggestions, Wesley slowly nods. He'd actually look like he was thinking about them if he didn't have a doubtful expression on his face. "I don't really think I want to bond much with ThoughtThief," Wesley notes slowly. "I..really don't. When he knows things about me he tends to...just insult me so..much better." The boy's grey eyes drop like anvils from Melissa, his gaze now directed at the ground. His shoulders give a brief shudder as he tries to surpress the words of ThoughtThief, about the Drowzee saying his own mother would think he was weak, and a failure. Wesley hasn't known a mother, but he does /know/ what a mother is...and that thought still stings. "I.." Wesley's voice cracks. There is a pause as the child collects himself. "Respect is one of the trickiest things to get," he remarks suddenly, his head rising upwards just as abruptly. "One little thing can make it, well, fall." Wesley now gives an extremely hesitant smile. "M-maybe I should just become a..a breeder and forget about this respect stuff." He's smiling and his tone is lighter. Does that mean he's joking? Don't people sometimes use humour to deflect pain? Is Wesley really sophisticated enough to do that?

Brindled clouds conceal a few patches of starlit sky.

Wesley's sudden perk up in a mood does a wonderful job of confusing Melissa, and for a moment the girl thinks Wesley probably is kidding. The entire seriousness of the scene, however, doesn't seem very prone to joking, and Melissa only peers at the boy for a few moments, her eyes wide, her face simply... flabbergasted. "You... can't be serious," the girl says gently, taking a small step forward. Puff is no longer protected by the girl's ankles, but he doesn't care - he's completely quiet, his interest focused solely on the conversation. This is a first. "Wesley, you're... you're the greatest trainer I know," she half-whispers, her breathing become almost inaudible, her entire self just appearing more timid and apprehensive. Her words don't come out with much force, but perhaps the words themselves are all Melissa needs. "You never... just... give up, you didn't..." Melissa turns to the side, looking up and down the rock field. "... Give up when I got lost, or when... or whenever I was sad, or even... even when... the letter..." With a great big sigh, a sparkling contrast to her soft and quiet tone, Melissa closes her eyes. She's still looking to the side. "I don't see you as a quitter, W... Wesley, because I know you're not." She opens her mouth to speak once more, pauses for a second, then closes it. Maybe she's giving Wesley a chance to speak, or maybe she's all done.

Snatch your backpack, steal your purse, save the data from this curse! (Psykitt-- eh, Saving)

Wesley needs to work on his jokes more. They don't tend to go over well. Wesley looks at Melissa intently, at first confused, but soon bypassing that emotion to focus on just what she's saying. He slowly flushes with an odd emotion - pride. Why is it so odd? Wesley doesn't focus on himself much. His problems, saving his hide from marauding Psykitt, trying to train his pokemon, reading books...he focuses on those things. But he doesn't focus on his own personality, mostly because he's eleven years old, and young boys don't go for hours trying to search their psyches. Here is someone compiling his actions, telling him something about himself he didn't even notice. "I.." Wesley stutters. "I..talked to a breeder. She had some ideas that sort of made sense. In an, an interesting sort of way. But I don't want to become one. Yet. Not for a long long while. Probably after I'm a Pokemon Master," he says with certainty, his head raised proudly. "..So, uh, I think I was joking," he adds meekly, his posture shifting downwards again. Heh. As for Wesley's pokemon, not all of them are intent on the conversation. Suave and Purple are mock-fighting a few feet away from the group, while Leochardo is now chatting quietly with Seafarer.

Melissa sort of nods her head vapidly as Wesley speaks. It's not that she's not interested in what the boy is saying; it's that she's waiting for him to say something she wants to hear. As soon as 'Pokemon Master' escapes from Wesley's lips, however, the girl bursts into a broad smile. She pivots on her soles, turning to face the boy, and gives him her own little proud grin - almost as if Wesley's pride stimulates her own. "Don't joke like that, then," she says, her voice still quiet but considerably cheerful. "You have... ...s... such a talent, it shouldn't... go to waste. Maybe... give ThoughtThief a little... while longer? If not... p... perhaps you two just weren't meant to be together. Like you and... ... your other Growlithe. Not..." She pats CrystalFire's pokeball, though she doesn't say the pup's name. Thinking back to a book she read once, Melissa closes her eyes and quotes. "Just as you must... m... match up compatibility in a pokemon match, as fire to grass, as psychic to poison - so too... must you match up compatibility with yourself to your pokemon."

Wesley scuffs his peeling shoe against the ground. "Uh, right," he says to Melissa's first response, with an apologetic head-bob. That'll teach him to try to be funny. Melissa's next words make him tilt his head; he regards his best friend with a confused little smirk on his face. He knows he should be smiling - once again, she's praising his talent! - but he's a bit too weirded out to do so. Father never told him he had talent, just that he needed to become a Master. "I..guess maybe I could keep him a bit more," Wesley admits. "And talk to him. I'll tell him to stop it if he gets out of line and...maybe Fistfight could help. She's good with that kind of stuff. And if I still can't work with him, then...I'm hope the Trading Post will let me trade for another Drowzee." He doesn't sound too certain on that fact, though. Wesley's voice fades and he gives himself time to think. "You seem to be good at the kind of stuff Fistfight is," he remarks. "Although I shouldn't be surprised. One of the, ah, things I really liked about the lady running the seminar for problem pokemon...she reminded me of you." With that, a gentle smile alights on his face. It might be unclear how his mind jumped to that thought, but gratitude and child-like fondness is definitely there in his tone. "Thanks," he states to Melissa simply.

Like she's lost in a dream in the clouds, Melissa simply glances into Wesley's face, a soft smile present on her own, just looking at him, taking him in, simply enjoying talking with him and helping him out. "You told me," she whispers almost inaudibly, her voice almost a little cracked. Her eyes are nearly watery behind her glasses as she continues scrutenizing the boy. "That the lady didn't help you much, though." Her smile increases in intensity, and her voice raises a little bit. "... I hope I did." And with a blink, her trance is gone. She's more aware of the rest of the world, that her pokemon are watching, that her hair is a mess, that it's night time. "Gosh," she mutters, rubbing her arms gently, perhaps to keep them warm. "What... time is it? It's really late..."

A chilly wind blows from the west, driving dark clouds before it and blotting out the stars in patches overhead. The air is clear and elsewhere they glitter brightly in the dark sapphire sky.

As Melissa enters her trance, Wesley continues to look at her. He can't help but feel he's the luckiest kid in the world, to have a friend like Melissa. She reads. She cares. She has a brain. His head rises slightly, and his shoulders do as well. He's just so very lucky. However, Melissa's blunt words make him blink a few times, crashing out of his thoughts and into the world. "Huh?" he says blankly. Upon hearing her question, a hand is pulled from his pocket. Fortunately for Wesley, he's been wearing a beige turtleneck the whole time; it's a bit more protected than what Melissa is wearing. The boy looks at his watch. "It's...oh, 8:36," he says, surprised. An eyebrow raises. He glances down at his pokemon. The two snakes have stopped battling and come closer to the group - they're now curled against each other for warmth. Lechardo is still chatting happily with an increasingly annoyed scar-faced Squirtle. Who could appreciate a conversation that centers on how Leochardo draws eleventy-hundred billion times better than other other non-Baroque period artists out there in the whole stupid world? Not Seafarer the pirate. The snake around Wesley's neck appears to have fallen asleep, poor girl. "Oh. You should, uh, probably get home." Wesley pauses, his head tilted. "Can I walk you back?" he asks, a touch of upbeatness in his tone. Wesley does love his routines. That he do.

Lamia speaks up for the first time in a while, her deep and aged voice a strange one to Melissa, who has gotten used to Wesley's own tones. <Should you wish to talk to me about this, Melissa...> The Ivysaur's eyes twinkle. <I'm ready to go back into my pokeball now.> Melissa turns her head to peer at the plant type. Though the girl doesn't totally understand her pokemon, she gets the general gidst, and, with a nod, the girl proceeds to recall her Ivysaur. In another quick motion, she recalls Puff, though not before the poison type can get out a, <But I want to walk wi-> Melissa tries not to grin as she reattaches the pokeball to her belt, and nods softly to the boy. "I'd be absolutely honored." Inhaling through her noise, taking in the cool air of the night, the teenager smiles gently, gesturing to the north. "C'mon. B... before it gets late."

Snatch your backpack, steal your purse, save the data from this curse! (Psykitt-- eh, Saving) Announcement: Mother Nature shouts "Howdy, folks! Bored? Looking for fun? '+channel join rp'!" Honored. Wesley's mind immediately flips back to a book he read - something about PokeKnights in a fantasy world that battled pokemon for their king and fought in wars? Wesley thinks on this thought as he busies himself with attaching pokeballs, recalling his pokemon, and minimizing the balls which he then sticks onto his belt again. The Squirtle looks quite relieved as he's sucked into his pokeball. Of course, the idea also comes to him that Melissa is an extremely good friend and she thinks quite well of him, but he's reached his compliment quotia for the year. He doesn't want to contemplate that thought anymore, nor can he think of much to say in return. Except "...thanks," he says, inclining his head with a brief smile. The boy gives a quick glance around. "Huh. Lots of stars," he notes idly before getting slipping around to Melissa's left side, waiting expectantly for her to move. When she does, so will he. Following behind, protecting her flank, simply there enjoying her company though few words are shared - that's what Wesley will do.

Melissa's reply is very gentle, but it should be easy enough for Wesley to hear. "Yeah," she whispers, glancing up at the sky. "There are... still... so many clouds, but you can still see the stars." Melissa glances down the path as she begins to walk, making sure she's not about to stumble in a hole. She returns her gaze to the sky, and won't say anything until Wesley does - it's like she's lost in the skies, lost in the night, lost in the wind blowing in her hair - almost like Wesley's presense is her link to the earth.