She might’ve wondered if it was odd for him to take public transport, but a lot of things weren’t occurring to her that should have.

The ride did not contain any further information on the matter. It was something he’d have to see. It did, however, contain some drunken looks of flirtation and banter. She was excited. It could have easily been misconstrued, again—or, perhaps, it was not entirely to be mistaken. Perhaps there was something to it. Her eyes certainly said yes.

They arrived to an apartment complex at 1919 Relic St. It was humble but not bad, at least by Lulu’s standards—which were admittedly quite low, as she had slummed it quite a bit for years.

Upon reaching the stoop, a fairy appeared out of the pocket of her coat. The mute Klefki jingled its keys excitedly at a new face. It was the most friendly of Lulu’s pokemon, by far, and also the most enthusiastic. It continued to rattle with frantic joy as it attempted to compose itself to do its one single job, which it took much pride in, thank you. The proper key fit into the lock and the door swung open for them, to reveal a growling, mean looking Houndoom.

“Tsh.” A quick noise silenced it and it stepped back, impeccably trained.

Sparks danced across metal bodies in another room from a couple of Magneton, which became visible when she flicked on the light and stepped in. “Forgot what a mess it was, sorry.” When he was inside, she’d deadbolt the door behind them. A solid habit, clean through any inebriation.

Lulu had no furniture, really. What was meant to be a living room was a workshop, littered with gadgets in various states of disassembly, chips, boards of all sizes, metal casings of different shapes and materials, cords, wires… a nightmare of technology in progress. A workbench wrapped around the room entirely, but could hardly contain the amount of shit that was strewn everywhere.

Just as eye-catching would be the notes that were hung so crowded on the walls, they were like headache-inducing wallpaper. Long electrical formulas stretching from room corner to corner, scribbled out in strange cubical writing which was clearly not the work of someone functioning normally. Different pages seemed to schizophrenically switch the direction that they leaned in, as though she switched hands as she wrote, perhaps when one got tired. There were no spaces between anything—everything was a string of information without breaks. It looked downright cryptic to the untrained eye.

In a corner were several rifle cases, although closed and perhaps not noticeable amongst all of the other things going on in the room.

Lulu drunkenly kicked a few things out of the way and headed for the kitchen, towards quite possibly one of the most monstrous computers in Slateport. A handful of screens angled down at a comically cheap looking chair. She walked past it and a half-full bottle of tequila on the kitchen counter. Beside it sat a deck of cards and a gleaming pistol, both of which she shoved into a drawer before fishing through the cabinets for a couple of glasses.

“Em.. wanna drink?” As though they needed more.