[attr="class","spiral"]“…”

He can feel himself mentally roll his eyes when she gets to work. Watching her do it so effortlessly, without remorse, both turns him on and equally disgusts him. Knowing that she’s doing it on purpose, maliciously, grants him a post-nut clarity that comes from self realization.

Katherine Fairburne is not to be trust.

It doesn’t matter what she promises, how much she begs, how appetizing she looks.

It is a lie. All this in order to get what she wants.

And for that Fernando is thankful. Catching it ahead of time makes it easier to deal with. Sure, in the moment, it may be hard to diffuse, but knowing is half the battle.

Unlike her, Fernando has no such charm. A broody, no-nonsense, conceited prick has no means to coerce others to bend to his will. So he wields his most powerful weapon: intelligence. Much like how the Littleroot Investigation should have gone, Fernando flashes his badge of authority and walks through without issue.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Once inside, Fernando gives a cursory glance over his surroundings, ignoring their seating arrangements in lieu of where the Ultra Beast could possibly be.

“Hm…”

His right hand rests on his hips, twitching as he toys with the capture mechanism of his Pokeball.

[attr="class","spiral"]“Easier said than done.”

When she releases her Pokemon, Fernando finds it as cue to let his out as well. His Kecleon, tried and true, does the same, but without command. The only time it gets summoned is to use its COLOR CHANGE or to help out for something personal. Considering the setting, the Pokemon assumes the former and blends in with its CAMOFLAUGE, disappearing from sight as it shuffles out of eye sight.

Nothing else really happens, at least right now, except for the show beginning to start. Patrons are urged to usher into their seats and everyone falls into place. Without tickets, neither have designated seating, and Fernando prefers to stand near the back against the tent’s walls for maximum field of vision.

The lights come on and clown music begins to play, drawing on the inevitable curtain call.

[attr="class","spiral"]“What do you want?”

Fernando sounds more resigned than he should be. Especially with the curtains finally drawing apart. The music comes to a crescendo and they reveal the attraction in its full glory.



Safe to say, this wasn’t it. It should come as no surprise but knowing that this is what got reported spoils the mood. A brevity of relief comes at first and then gets washed out with immense disappointment. Fernando shows it with an exaggerated exhale before moving on his own accord.

Naturally, he’s look to leave.

“Drinks on me, what do you want?”

[attr="class","spiral"]“…”

Fernando actually looks back at her. He does a double take. Twice. Only after he realizes what she says does he safely put her in the stupid spectrum. She can sit there with Alexei Ivanov, Olivia Abbiati, Balder Schwartz until proven otherwise.

“We’re at a renaissance festival.”

What kind of—

There’s beer, ale, but hardly a drop of hard liquor. Not at a public festival or event like this.

[attr="class","spiral"]“…”

Fernando stares a bit harder, having never deduced the follow up to their failed exploits. “There—” It’s too much to explain so he shrugs, running his hands through his hair in resignation. He’ll do it next time. Not like he can’t come back here next month.

“Disregard it. Sure.”

How can Fernando Silph, Hoenn’s most pronounced drinker, say no to a request to splurge. Thankfully, he’s learned something meaningful and knows to reject such advancements. As fun as playing cat and mouse is, nothing bodes well with a case of blue balls.

“You picking the place?”