as the door beckons for elijah, he ponders charging for each knock. then again, rocket camaraderie is supposed to be payment enough— even if unwanted. discouraged. unexpected.

elijah detaches himself from his square wooden chair only when his rump reaches the edge of its seat. he shambles toward the door. like cryptkeeper stretched thin with no one take his shift, elijah greets chu-e with unimpressed eyes.

"the underboss is under the weather." elijah says. with a groan, he gestures for him, "come in."

the room is small, but perhaps, it is because of the sprawling mass of leaves and stems. potted plants watch like gargoyles from every wall-mounted shelf, and his victreebel squirms at the new presence.

"know what you're sick with?" elijah asks. "and don't mind my victreebel. she's having an off day too."

Chu-e Choi

At the joke, Chu-e lets out a fake gag. It quickly turns into a real gag, though, so he has to put a stop to that real quick. A dreaded 'I am about to vomit' burp surfaces, making him groan as he follows the other inside.

"I think I'm dying." Is what Chu-e replies to elijah gardner with, always dramatic. He slumps against whatever surface is free of plants; wouldn't want to knock something over. He sighs, taking a breath to steady his rumbling stomach. "I get seasick real bad." Is what he finally says, more serious this time.

Little did Chu-e know, this was the very start of his Space Rock Disease. But, what you don't know won't kill you and all that.

"You got something that can cure me, Doctor... Elijah? I think that's what she said..." The second part is muttered.

elijah crosses to close the door. he hears the man's tortured gut and the eerie creaking of submarine metal. after turning the lock, he faces chu-e with a frown.

"maybe we should've gone with the airship after all." elijah's victreebel shrieks before burping. "i've got a few things. licorice root. chansey chamomile. massage and acupressure."

elijah rolls up his sleeves as if getting ready for work. yet, he does not know what the other's choice would be. the fabric holds tight around his arms, his drab clothes sleepy in hue.

"hope this isn't a test." elijah says. "if i fail to make you better, you won't kill me, right?" perhaps, it's a jest. it's hard to tell. he speaks flat unlike the churning contents of chu-e's stomach.

Chu-e Choi

Chu-e didn't know what any of that was.

"I don't know what any of that is." Well, he knew what a massage and acupressure was. That didn't count.

"You can bend me into a pretzel and make me your bitch if it keeps me from horfing." He sympathized with the Victreebell. At this moment, Chu-e and that grass type were one spiritually. He, too, wished he could belch and be relieved of these terrible gut feelings.

At the second question, Chu-e just hums, noncommittal. Will he kill elijah gardner if he fails? No, that's stupid. Does he want the other to maybe squirm a little bit? Yes, that's fun.

"alright." he pinches the corner of his inner lip with his canines.

elijah drowns out the humming with the rickety creaking of a massage table being pulled out from underneath a counter. it expands higher, freed from the underworld. despite its old, dusty look, the headrest provides it with some charm, for should one place their head in its hole, they would find themselves crowned all around with sunflora-like petals.

he sweeps the table with his broad hand and directs chu-e to lie upon it. "make yourself comfortable. not too comfortable though." there are no happy endings in this side of the submarine.

Chu-e Choi

Chu-e make an pleased and appraising noise when the massage table is brought out. When elijah gardner gives the instruction, he takes his place and makes himself comfortable. But not too comfortable, as that was not lost on Chu-e, and he grins a little bit.

"Shame, you're cute." He snickers again, lightly, before frowning where his face is in the hole.

Suddenly, he pushes himself upwards, looking mildly serious and a bit distressed. This was probably done right before Elijah was about to put hands on him, for maximum silliness.

"That was a joke. I might be your boss but I do not expect sexual favors. I am fucked up but not that kind of fucked up." He pauses, assessing. "... if you know anyone who tries to pull that, let me know. I'll take take care of it." His voice dips into something like a threat, not at Elijah himself but the idea of someone doing that, before his sudden movement catches up to him. He looks green and collapses back against the table, huffing.

elijah's lips flatten across his face further at the word "cute." as his hands loom over chu-e, they withdraw as the underboss peels away from the sunflora hole. like closing flowerbuds, his fingers meet at his thumbs.

"hm." elijah's grunt descends into one gravely note. "i appreciate that. thanks." words seldom said.

as chu-e falls back onto the massage table, weighed down by green, elijah nods to his victreebel. a vine extends out from behind its yellow, engorged belly. it slaps against a gloom-shaped diffuser. after a second, a steady stream of ginger-scented smoke wafts from the gloom's red head.

"actually, i might need you to take your shirt off." elijah says. "if you don't mind. in the meantime, concentrate on the aroma."

Chu-e Choi

Chu-e groans against the table at the request, as if physically mulling over the words.

"Well. Okay." Pushing himself, reluctantly, back upwards. The loose shirt pulls off easily, revealing that it more than swallowed him. Underneath is a black, long sleeved compression shirt. It's a little trickier to peel off his thin frame. He huffs and smooth a hand down his chest, almost as if embarrassed; most of his torso is a mess of old scars, as if he were peeled open and then sewn back together over and over. That and the pallor and just how scrawny he is paints a picture but not a pretty one.

"If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy." It's vague, as if even he isn't sure if it's a joke or not. But he makes himself comfortable again. More scars nick down the knobs of his spine, as if someone had a fucked up way of counting them, plus a few older and faded ones from battles and missions long past. elijah gardner seemed like the type to not care too much about scars, at least.

the topography causes his breath to still. masking the missed beat with a rocky hum, he tries his best to make his gaze polite. then again, it's not as if the underboss could see him anyway.

"could be worse." the apothecary grunts.

and elijah may have seen worse, truth be told. and in all honesty, the striated portraiture of chu-e's past is pretty. it meant he had survived— or is surviving: mapped on the man's skin is perseverance made physical.

his hands begin to work. they loosen muscle, palms prying apart frozen stretches with warmth and force. "gonna be honest. i didn't expect you to be so decorated. thought you were just a pretty face."

Chu-e Choi

Warm hands start to kneed into tense flesh and Chu-e let's out a long sigh through his nose. He's riddled with knots and it hurts to have them pressed on, dug into, but in that pleasant kind of way that promises relief afterward. His stomach still churns but the ginger scent along with just the general massage does help some. This seasickness will be something hard to overcome in the long run.

Chu-e isn't sure if he should be offended or not. He decides that at the moment it's too much effort to get upset.

"I was a Beast during Kanto." A pause, where he wracks his brain hard. "I think we met before, once. Not too long after Slateport." Briefly, for maybe one mission, but the details were hazy.

"you're right."

elijah's hands hasten. with firm intention, they travel across the tense landscape of his underboss' back.

a couple of years have stretched into what seems like decades. and with it, meaning and memory. elijah finds it difficult to pinpoint which 'slateport' chu-e refers to.

"happier in hoenn? even with all the aliens?" elijah finds a particularly tough tangle. he puts more elbow grease into it- quite literally, in fact. his elbow seeks deep tissue in practiced circles. "though, i guess if you survived kanto, you can survive anything."

Chu-e Choi

Chu-e let's out a groan at the 'elbow grease'. It is not some weird sexual thing like if this were a porno or some fan-service OVA. But, even through the sting, it does feel nice. He is welcome to be putty in elijah gardner's hands.

"I love this stupid, batshit region." He finds himself saying with more sincerity than intended. Maybe the slowly spreading fever is starting to get to his brain. Maybe Chu-e is just all sappy from being pulled taffy. Either, way he finds he means it. "I think I'd like to die here someday." Which is maybe a bit more morbid but no less filled with conviction.

"What about you?"

"i have my complaints."

he mulls it over. hands chart chu-e's back. maps muscle groups and tests them with scrutinizing pressure as he does with hoenn in his mind.

"but i'm the same. dust to dust. ashes to ashes." elijah says. "if i somehow outlive you, i can turn you into a tree. no charge. rocket bonus."

elijah continues for a little while longer. finally, he withdraws his weight. the table relaxes and his hands clap together for the finality of his work.

"all done. how did you feel during that?"

Chu-e Choi