[attr="class","samjermain"]

Her cell phone buzzed for the hundredth time. She took it out as if expecting it to be anything other than Mom. Like she'd just hit the jackpot with Publisher's Clearing House or something. Or, maybe, like Dad had finally decided his daughter was worth paying attention to.

Younger Madeline resembled a wide-eyed rabbit more than a suspicious badger Back then, she hadn't even met Yakky yet. Her only companion was a prim little Jigglypuff dressed in charms and cotton candy colors. This creature hopped behind them, occasionally jumping up to grab the fitted sleeves of its trainer's cardigan.

Even before her final growth spurt, Madeline was a towering giraffe of a teenager. Her broad shoulders, from behind, led many people to mistake her for a male football player. These days she made fun of her own frame, back then she'd been sensitive about it. Even as she trails behind Milo, she ducks forward slightly in order to appear slightly smaller. The shoes on her feet were flat.

"That sounds lovely—I mean, good. Fucking great." The ginger-haired girl replied almost on reflex. "What kind of treat were you thinking, Milo?" When the cigarette was offered to her, Amber eyes widened. The teenager swallowed, looking around for the nearest dare officer. Not wanting to look like a sissy in front of her beau, she took it and stuffed it in her mouth. "Hey, M?" The request came out at a volume in the future. Almost as if she needed permission to ask a question. What curiosity itself was a criminal offense. "Can you give me a light?'

Whether he gave her one or not, it would soon be stuffed out as she looked towards the truck with wide eyes. "You want me to steal one?" She frowned. "Won't we going to get in trouble?" Daddy would hate it. Hell, it might even make Uncle Joel judgmental. But wouldn't that be better for the pokémon than getting their arse kicked every day on TV? Hell, wouldn't it be better if she had something to actually defend herself with?

Milo was looking at her. She looked back. Back then she cared way too fucking much about what people thought of her. "Let's do it."

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

He was slight of frame. Boyish. Youngest of three, who all took after their tall father. His core and legs were defined, as if he was a soccer clubber, but he was Mr Battle of the Bands. Why, it was funny watching the two of them walk together, this grown woman and her little purse-dog. Little did he know, he'd always be stuck under 5'4.

Younger Milo was still restless and wild. Like a cat getting a sudden burst of energy at 3 in the morning. He still had that impulse to do things just to get on peoples' nerves, a holdover from wanting attention while his parents played favorites. But... it was more culturally acceptable than him still doing it at 22. “Yeah. That'd be lovely~. No need to second-guess yourself, babe.”

He said, with a wink. She peered over her shoulder, before accepting a cigarette from him. He loved this, pretending that they were adults together. As soon as she asked, Milo offered her his lighter, and pinched a bead near the filter of his. A loud pop came, sending menthol streaming through it. "I was thinking... just a little tea, maybe a crepe."

But... he already planted the seed in her head. Maddy responded right away, looking to the tent. He didn't have his beloved Deino yet, and his childhood Purrloin needed someone to play with. He smirked at her. "We? You can just say that it was my idea, and nobody will get mad at you. And the best part? You'd be right to say it."

Besides... Milo was doing this for attention. She could easily let him have it. And then... it was the Battle Tent. Those sad little things probably don't get to go on walks, or have little treats. Well, now that he talked her into it, he had to justify it to himself.

[attr="class","samjermain"]Trying to shield herself from the awkwardness—and that teasing lilt to Milo’s voice—the redhead crossed her arms across her chest. A puff of hot air pushed past her lips, scattering blocky bangs. ”Lovely just isn’t cool, you know?” She snorted. “It sounds like something my mom would say.” The way she said that word seemed like the earth’s greatest insult. 

For a brief moment, amber eyes lingered on the dancing lighter. A thousand anti-smoking ads flashed through her mind. But the idea of dad’s face if he saw her light up—that same impotent look of rage and powerlessness she often wore—was more tantalizing than any drug. “Thanks, M.” So, with just a second of hesitation, the redhead set the paper alight. With a pop, she crushed the menthol bead. A deep breath filled her lungs with noxious smoke.

She did her best to hide her coughing behind a sleeve, quickly moving to take a second puff. She did not want Milo to think she was some goody-two-shoes or something. Obviously, she smoked like a chimney. Totally. “Crepes sound great.” Madd wheezed. “I would kill for some banana and chocolate.” Sure, it was fancy, but it was also junk food. But—unlike those deep-fried Oreos—it wouldn’t hurt her waistline. Something she cared a lot about back then. “Not really big on tea though.” It reminded her of medicine.

When he threatened to take the bullet, she blinked. Her eyes filled with affection. Still too starstruck by this free spirit to know a bad influence. “You’d take the fall? Just like that?” Her smile grew more assured, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. “That’s really sweet of you.” Kind of stupid though. Would she do the same if push came to shove? Madd was pretty sure she’d crack like a scrambled egg.

“That makes us sound like superheroes.’ Her eyes tilted to the small screen at the tent’s entrance. Grainy footage showed a half-asleep Snubbull getting its ass reamed by some weird donkey thing twice its side. “But, hey, potato-potahto.” Amber eyes shifted to the supply tubes, lips twisting in thought as four balls shot into the tent. “You after anything in particular?”

As she moved forward, the Jugglypuff grabbed her pants’ leg. It made a noise of uncertainty, its thin line of a mouth pressing into invisibility. From its trainer, it turned to Milo. "JUGGLY!" It tried to jerk Madd back, away from this corrupting force.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

He snickered when she rebuffed him. Milo gently nudged her with his elbow. He grinned, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Ribbons of smoke trailed off into the night sky. "You're trying too hard to be cool. Gonna take up skateboarding next?"

He said, all the while smoking underage, dressing like some star from 30 years ago. Trying to shoot for an understated, slacker-stoner cool. Milo watched intently as Maddy started smoking with him. While she slowly felt her way around it and coughed, this was a source of comfort. It was a pacifier for this boy who never grew up. Milo pinched his cigarette between his fingers and sneezed, before taking another drag. “Well, I for one try to get along with your mom.”

This street seemed to trail on forever, but at last, they happened upon the night market, and a... no smoking sign to spoil their fun. Milo pinched the end of his and stuck it in his shirt pocket for later, before pointing to what smelled like a crepe stall. "It's on me tonight, Mad."

The grainy footage displayed on the screen set a determined look on Milo's face. While he was in it for selfish reasons, he started to believe his lie. He got down on one knee, making a pleading face at her Jigglypuff. "...Do you know why she's mad at me?"

He looked to the supply-line to the tent, and traced it back to the
opening in the tube. In this lighting? At this hour? He felt like he
could get away with catching something that rolled away, the half-asleep
transporter shooing him like a fly.

When Milo returned to her side, he turned loose his Deino, quick to cradle the big thing in his arms like a baby. Milo smiled at her, raising a hand to let his new pet sniff him.

[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead flushed. She’d actually already tried that. But one scuffed knee put an end to her dreams of being Tony Hawk. “I’m not trying to be anything, Milo This is all-natural.” Except it wasn’t. She didn’t like all the stuff she did. “And skateboarding stopped being cool when my dad was young.” The earrings she wore—all chunky and spiky—weren’t what she actually liked. She loved sterling silver and silly chains. Stupid t-shirts with cute sayings on them were her jam.

But she’d never let Milo see it.

She wanted her dad to hate her, but that meant hating herself sometimes. It meant making her mother cry and risking handcuffs. And, of course, it meant puffing on cancer sticks and trying to bullshit the world into thinking she liked it. Hell, some part of her was tempted to start flunking out of school next. But that probably wouldn’t even bother her old man.

“Gesundheit.” Madd’s forced roughness dropped, her face softening temporarily as she reached for a packet of Kleenex that didn’t fit this jacket. “Mom’s not too bad.” She sighed. “Just a bit of a Stepford Wife.” But, Madd had never seen Dad pull the mind control shit on her. No, she acted like a vapid housewife—obsessed with Tupperware—because she wanted to. “Pretty sure she doesn’t hate you too much.”

Wanting to prove herself worse, Madd didn’t put her cigarette away until she drew even with it. She even went so far as to roll her eyes at it, jerking a manicured thumb at the hunk of metal. It took everything in her power not to drool at the mounds of sugar, fruit, and whipped cream. She slid her hand into the pocket of her skirt, pausing at his gallantry. “I’ll have a banana one with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not too much syrup though.”

At the Jigglypuff question, Madd sighed. “She thinks you’re a bad influence.” She forced a snort. “Thinks I can't be bad by myself.”

She really wasn’t. When that guy shooed Milo forward, she wanted to apologize to the sleepy-eyed guy. But, she didn’t want to look like a suck ass in front of her boyfriend. So, squaring her shoulders, she walked toward him.

And, judging by the way the guy perked up, he was more open to a cute girl with bazongas than a shifty-looking ermine. “Hey, uh, I—” God. What should she do? “I—um—I lost my Munna.” She named one of her mom’s Pokemon. “Have you seen him?” She fought back a sneer as he replied to her boobs.

Behind her back, she gestured Milo forward for a second attempt.

At the same time, the crepe bell rang.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

Maddy rebuffed him, and Milo rolled his eyes. He nudged her shoulder with an elbow. "Sure. Then you're gonna get a bunch of tattoos and piercings. Gonna look like shift manager at Hot Topic."

He said, despite being halfway there himself. When you grow up with low expectations, how are you supposed to handle... anything? Milo was the product of neglect, every action calculated to get a strong reaction. "...Whatever that is... I sure hope we don't turn into that." He thought for a moment on it. A mom who wants nothing but the best for her daughter, and a dad who pulls everything into his orbit like a dying star. It was completely alien to him. “Awh. And I try so hard. I can't even remember my dad's birthday.”

The crepe stand's smell wafted off into the street. Ribbons of steam caught the lights, as their cigarette smoke once did. After her order, Milo set a crisp bill on the table. While he wasn't good at math, he was sure tipping 50% wouldn't be an issue. "Can I get... Dark chocolate and chopped almonds."

Her reply puzzled him. Milo just made it clear that this was an animal rights thing for him! He then winked at Maddy, and shook his head at her. "You're a little monster."

He looked back to Madeleine, making idle conversation to distract the only guard. While she played the part of a civilian asking for help, a small gesture egged him on.

He then... peeled off his flannel shirt, grabbed a fistful of pokeballs, and dropped them on it. He then folded it a few times, before tying the shirt around his waist. Between that and the crepe bell ringing, Milo looked to her. Did they have to go? Was the party over?

[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead—way more uncomfortable in her height than she was now—bent slightly, so she could nudge him back. A hint of color snuck into her cheeks. In her recent foray into grunge, she’d made more than one trip to Hot Topic. It made her feel like she was a kid stuck on training wheels. But where else could she et stuff like that without her dad flipping? “There are worse things, you know? They have some cool t-shirts.” The talk of piercings meanwhile made her wrinkle her nose. “And I’d prefer to not need a cavity search to do an MRI.” Madeline had watched enough episodes of Untold Stories of the ER to give that stuff a pass.

Though she did have holes in her ear lobes. But that’d been back when mom tried dressing her up like some Victorian extra from Downton Abbey. The redhead couldn’t remember the last time she used them Maybe she could get some skulls or something. Really turn that perfect little girl aestethic on its head.

“It means she doesn’t think for herself—” Maddie replied irritably. “What she wants doesn’t matter. It’s just what the a-hole wants. He decides everything. I bet she’d jump off a damned bridge if he asked.” She figured it was the same reason she bowed to his every whim. The ever-present stare of Kole McKenna’s Malamar. A blue-eyed stare and the world went fuzzy. Suddenly, everything the guy suggested sounded like the most wonderful idea ever.

Though she’d never seen the bastard tentacle wipe her mom, Maddie figured it happened. Honestly, after over 20 years of that stuff, her brain probably looked like Swiss cheese. At the talk of birthdays, Madd snorted. “I pretend not to remember mine. And, whenever I get him something, it’s something he’s allergic to. Like peanut butter or hippy posters.” The man always scowled but, in front of people, he couldn’t actually do anything.

The teenager listened to his order, her nose wrinkled in an almost rabbit-like way. “What an old man order.” She muttered under her breath—payback for the earlier ribbing. Nobody could actually like dark chocolate, right? The stuff tasted like dirt. Then, of course, came the nuts. “You like almonds? I feel like I’m eating teeth.” And then, of course, people tried making milk out of them.

“Pretty sure little’s the wrong word, M.” The ginger smirked, forcing herself to straighten for a moment. Though not at her true height, she was still a few inches above the alabaster-haired boy.

For a second after the snatch and grab, Madd waited for the Pokecoin to drop. Her body trembled as she imagined a gruff voice shouting ’Stop!’ at them. Instead, the awkward conversation stretched out as the security guard shook his head. “I’m sorry, darling. I haven’t seen anything as cute as you all night.” It took everything in Madeline not to upchuck. Gross, dude. You’re old enough to be my dad.

“I’ll keep looking; thank you.” She feigned tears as she forced herself to slowly walk toward the vendor—trying her best not to burst out giggling. After grabbing her crepe, she picked a table out of sight of the battle tent. “So, what’d we get? Anything interesting?”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

Maddy defended herself, then slowly explained herself. Milo nodded, glancing down. He'd thought about earrings. A patchwork of stolen jewelry, really. His sticky fingers were starting to reach out, as she was about to see. "..."

He stood speechless, just thinking about an overeager patdown. In either case, the topic turning to her mom gave him something to riff on. Her... frankly terrifying relationship with her father got to him. Milo winced. He felt powerless to change something so... ugly. "...I want to fight him, but I'm sure you've tried that already." His stomach just churned for a moment. “I'm just spitballin' here. Feel free to laugh at me. But I've always had fantasies of skipping town and starting over. What if... I really did it this time, and you came with me, even just to visit.”

The thought of running was fascinating. Milo's parents wouldn't notice. His dad worked construction, and fixed old cars as a pastime. His mom was the archetypal suburban Aunt. Cheekbone-y. Aloof, vaguely mystical, mixing pills she shouldn't be mixing, chardonnay all the time. Decked to the nines in little crystal beads, whose meanings could be recited as readily as pokedex entries.

They were so caught up in the minutiae of their lives as to be hands-off with him most of the time. In either case, Mrs Sharpe loved Maddie.

An old man's order. He felt like more ribbing was in order, though he laughed with her. "Ever had a smoothie before? Get all the chocolate you want, all you're gonna taste is banana."

Her retort made him chuckle. He then felt the need to defend himself, though he would remain 5'3 for the rest of his life. He stood on his toes for a second, inviting her to laugh at him. "It is now, but you were as tall as me before a growth-spurt."

Madeleine played her role well, though he felt a knot in his stomach at the way the adult talked to her, just within earshot. He then smiled, rolling off the side of the truck, whose pallets fed into the tent with no need for a forklift gouging the building. He then took off, eventually reuniting with her.

The two of them sat at the table, and Milo slowly unfurled his shirt. Four, maybe five balls hit the ground. While three of them were the Tent favorites: Gulpin, Swablu, and Ralts... two stood out. What jumped out at him was this Purrloin, a cat already in his lap, batting at the lapels of his shirt. And there was this lost looking Mareep as well...?

He leaned in and prepared a sotto voce, with half-lidded eyes beaming at her. "And again, we're saving them from a life of prize-fighting. I want to send one or two to a conservatory, but you can keep however many you want."