He’s already tipsy by the time he shows up at the ritual. Or, well, he was pretty far past that point if he was being honest, given that it hadn’t been the first place he’d started out that night. But between the cold night air and the flying taxi from Rustboro that nearly gave him a heart attack, Emerson’s at least sobered up enough to be mostly cognizant, if still a little giggly.[break][break]

His dedenne is too mischievous to take with him on a night like this one, so it’s his mincinno perched on his shoulder as he wanders the lower district once he’s been dropped off. The plan is to go home.[break][break]

But he’s got just enough lack of impulse control to swerve and duck into the ritual instead, despite Churro’s warning squeaks. Whatever, he likes this place and it’s literally right by his apartment. He’s gotta seize the mood to not be a hermit. That, like, totally never happens.[break][break]

That boldness nearly fades at the sheer amount of people packed into the main room. But then someone ushers him down to the speakeasy, and it’s nice and quiet— but she takes him up to a table instead, and he thought he was gonna have his own.[break][break]

So he stands there awkwardly, an old fashioned of his own in hand. There’s already a rosy tint to his cheeks, but it darkens once he realizes who it is sitting at the table.[break][break]

“Oh, you’re—“ The hot doctor from the hospital I’ve repeatedly humiliated myself in front of. No wait, abort abort! “—Caden.”[break][break]

He echoes the name dumbly, face gone cherry tinted. Stupid, dumb![break][break]

“I-I mean, er. Emerson. It’s Emerson.” Third time is not the charm.
[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

maybe in broad daylight, he would've recognized him.

[break][break] would've remembered the ruddy-haired guy that he'd caught between the men's bathroom and a vending machine, trying to stuff a crumpled up dollar-bill to get some flavorless lays chips on his lunchbreak. would've remembered the hypochondriac patient who had tried to convince him that his arm was totally broken when it was definitely not.

[break][break] but in the low-light of the speakeasy, all caden sees is flushed rosy cheeks and a cute face.

[break][break] "yeah. i just said that."

[break][break] he seems amused anyway, or maybe it's the alcohol finally hitting. he's finally in a good mood, after a string of bad days. the doctor — or formally a doctor, because what was a doctor without a job — gestures to the seat next to him, for the other to sit down.

[break][break] "hey em — can i call you that? — take a seat. let's get to know each other since we're stuck here today." he sips the edge of his glass, the bitterness satisfying on it's way down his throat. "you come here often?"

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

“Sorry! I know, er, sorry..” They clamp their mouth shut to stop themselves from a continuing stream of apologies.[break][break]

He must not recognize Emerson, right? ‘Cause if he did then there’s no way he’d be so friendly right now. Surely. Both prior interactions with caden maher had been absolute, total disasters.[break][break]

Could Em save himself further mortification? Probably not, but maybe he’s got an out from a massively awkward situation—just for a little bit. “Yep! Em is fine! Peachy!” his voice ratchets up to a squeak at the immediate default to his nickname.[break][break]

He’s quick to slide into the seat beside Caden, hands curling around his glass before he does something stupid like drop it or spill the liquor all over himself. “Actually, uh, yeah. I live nearby. But I usually come at weird hours..”[break][break]

To avoid all the people.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

the squeaky tenor of their voice makes his brow arch, but otherwise he adopts to ignore it.

[break][break] in the dark light of the bar and the quiet lull of music behind them, it's easy to ignore most things.

[break][break] he's grateful for it, and the company of this almost-strange. after a string of bad days, this is exactly what he needs.

[break][break] caden props an elbow onto the table, leaning into a palm as he observes them in the low-light.

[break][break] dark eyes fall upon their lashes.

[break][break] "weird hours?" he asks. "like what?"

[break][break] caden's voice is like liquid honey, a metaphorical snake curling around the table's ankles. ready to ensnare at a moment's notice.

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

Maybe he should have just gone home. There’s no way that this person actually wants to endure time with him. And yet, the person he’s managed to make a fool of himself in front of multiple times now doesn’t wave him away.[break][break]

“Like…night time…hours..?” he offers hesitantly in response.[break][break]

Even just observing Caden, he can feel his face heat up. He doesn’t know why the doctor is looking at him like this, like he actually has something interesting to say.[break][break]

Or is…appealing in some capacity.[break][break]

He knows that he’s not. Emerson hasn’t ever considered himself interesting a day in his life. He likes interesting things, and keeps interesting hobbies, sure, but he himself isn’t anything out of the ordinary.[break][break]

He’s just a walking bundle of nerves and awkward mannerisms.[break][break]

His fingers turn his glass back and forth, anxious twist. Hyper-aware. “So, uhm…do you like…coming here?”


[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

caden smirks at @emerson in response, like it's the butt of some joke that he hasn't said aloud. he instead lets his gaze fall upon the redhead, observing him like a snake in the dark.

[break][break] there is something just appealing about observing him, witnessing the internal struggle.

[break][break] the curl of adrenaline in his gut, knowing that he has such an effect on someone.

[break][break] "i do," caden says. "they have good food here, and it's quiet compared to anywhere else."

[break][break] "do you?"

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

It’s not like Emerson can’t feel and register the weight of Caden’s stare. The almost mocking air of it—it’s nothing new. In fact, that sense of being an outsider has always followed him around.[break][break]

Something he’s only just starting to shed his skin on in small measure.[break][break]

But no, he acutely feels the fact that he’s not in on the joke. Whatever the joke may be, though it feels like it’s the other’s personal amusements more than anything greater.[break][break]

Em’s self-consciousness doubles down on itself as a result. He shrinks in on himself. Both hands holding onto his glass as he diminishes himself, red-faced and flustered.[break][break]

Somehow, Caden makes small talk an even more harrowing endeavor.[break][break]

His heart skitters in his chest as the question is turned back on him and he nods. Maybe a little too quickly—after the drinks he had earlier, it feels like his brain is rattling around in his skull. Dizzying. [break][break]

“Yeah, since it’s close to my apartment, errrrr yeah. Easy choice.”
[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

caden isn't sure what it is about emerson whitlock , the buggy-eyed nerd that he'd seen in the corner of the hospital. when they'd first met, he'd felt annoyance. then confusion. then now just a blatant curiosity, like a scientist watching a charjabug scuttle to the corner of a cage.

[break][break] and then, there was the fact that - in despite of all of that - he found the redhead kind of cute.

[break][break] but not in the way that he'd found Elliott Jenkins cute, not in the way that he found Antoinette Spina intoxicating.

[break][break] the kind of cute that made him wonder how red emerson could get.

[break][break] "your apartment's around here?" he says, arching a brow.

[break][break] he smiles.

[break][break] "so what do you like to do when you come here?"

[break]

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

Obviously caden maher is attractive. Em has two functioning eyes that work with crystal clarity. But what does he do with that information? All it serves to do is make him that much more flustered. Awkward.[break][break]

And obviously that’s why he was so embarrassing on his varied trips to the hospital where they first encountered one another.[break][break]

Now, however, he almost feels like a corner buneary.[break][break]

His heart is definitely thumping quickly enough, the red on his face permanently fixed there.[break][break]

“Um, yeah. Not even a whole block.”[break][break]

His brows furrow together at the question. Why does this feel like..is it a test of some sort?[break][break]

“…drink?” What else does one do at a place like this? He definitely doesn’t usually come here to socialize. “I guess I read sometimes.”

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

"mm. interesting."

[break][break] caden hides a smile behind his glass as he takes another swig of his drink. it's bitter on it's way down, but it's just like he likes it.

[break][break] "what do you read?"

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

He frowns a little, obviously confused. “Why is that interesting..?”[break][break]

But the conversation is quickly flowing away from the location of his home.[break][break]

Maybe the tipsier he gets, the less self-conscious he’ll become. He eagerly knocks back the rest of his drink.[break][break]

Trying not to cough slightly from the burn on the way down. His eyes still water though.[break][break]

“Oh. Boring stuff. Tech journals. Comics. Space operas. That kind of thing.” Everything, anything geeky.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

he arches a brow, his expression simple.

[break][break] "because i find you interesting."

[break][break] he knocks back another drink, this time ordering a daiquiri instead. it's a bit sweeter than he normally likes.

[break][break] on one hand, his hand closes into a fist and he rests his cheek upon his knuckle.

[break][break] "so what do you do? are you a programmer?"

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] emerson whitlock [break]
the ritual [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-munna"]

Absently, he points back at himself, mouthing a barely audibly, “Me?”[break][break]

Was this guy…chatting him up? Nooo. No way. He must mean interesting like a little dedenne would be to a hungry purrloin.[break][break]

Fun to mess with.[break][break]

Rather than stick to a repeat of the evening’s signature, Em went for a Manhattan. More familiar. Better. He can wash it down faster.[break][break]

Fingers tap on the table absently. Fidgety.[break][break]

“Sometimes. If I’m hired for it. Mostly it’s IT repair. What do you do?” Oh, he could smack himself in the forehead. “No wait. I know you’re a doctor.”

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]