[attr="class","spiral"]He gives her the stand. Talk all you want. Anything to buy you some more time. Maybe, just maybe, she'll call it quits and give in. Sometimes that's all it takes. Many fronts have faltered mid-sentence. On the smidge of mercy Fernando hedges their friendship on, he gives her that.

And when she doesn't he feels no remorse.

"Yes."

Curt and to the point. Now she's wasting not only his time but Tapu Fini's as well.

"One layer should do it. No need to hold back. Might knock some sense into her. Just don't scramble anything too important. We'll purge her empty when we're done."

Tapu Fini gives a way of its hands before mustering up another SHATTERED PSYCHE.


---


By the time she wakes up, the sun is just starting to set. It casts a warm and forgiving glow onto the bed and her eye lids. It almost seems calming.

The sound of keys clicking can be heard from the living room. The news is playing. It's always playing.

[attr="class","spiral"]Fernando remains unaware of her awakening provided she proves vigilant enough to keep her presence undetected. For now, his back is turned, paying attention to a small stock ticker in the top right-hand corner of his laptop screen. His main window involves several lines of text, alien, as they continuously scroll without any manual changes from him. Every so often his eyes will check in on them but it means little overall. The way the console floods with weird symbols seem reminiscent of a running script.

In the far corner of the room, nearest the balcony window, Tapu Fini resides within its shell. The shell is closed and the Pokemon's black carapace glistens against the faint sunlight.

The sound of invisible step plop within the room, small paws against wood flooring, as the red stripe of his Kecleon floats aimlessly in circles. Eventually it stops, facing Lulu's direction. It's yet to make any noise, meaning she may still be undercover. But who knows?

[attr="class","spiral"]Her presence is noted but otherwise unimportant. When Fernando doesn't say anything at first, wrapping up his typing with a punctual period, the Kecleon plods off again. Each step leaves a little scuff mark of it's last position as it returns to the kitchen. The rest of the room remains still, as boring and mundane as its furnishings.

"Rarely. Only when I need to."

He leans back as the script comes to a close. The last word is in plain English, an error code Lulu will recognize as the default error code for a failed attempt. It means the logic isn't correct and collapsed in on itself.

"No one will bother us, if that's what you're thinking."

AKA no one will come save you.

[attr="class","spiral"]“Back where you came. Far end of the hall.”

There’s no escape, as far as he’s concerned, so she’s given free agency everywhere except the main foyer. That’s why he remains in the main living room, the one place that connects the foyer to the rest of the apartment. “Feel free to shower too. You probably need it.”

He clicks his tongue in a small fit as he considers another way to tackle his issue. Eventually, he concedes, pulling up a map of the ocean between Lilycove and Mossdeep. It’s live footage from a satellite and he starts to combo through pictures, searching for something. He’s searching the ocean for something very specific.

What lies under its depths?

[attr="class","spiral"]Again, Fernando does not notice her presence. That or he chooses to ignore it in lieu of his laptop. He’s dead set on scouring the Hoenn ocean, taking the time to scour every square for several seconds. At a set interval, with no real discerning pattern, he’ll zoom in, running a quick search of that point’s depths as well as a view of the water. Whatever’s on record.

Over time, repeatedly, it becomes obvious that he’s looking for something in the ocean. Something that’s been captured on the global map. Sometimes, he’ll reference a depths chart, logging it to the long and lat of the location.

When his Kecleon comes out, just to pause at her presence, does he comment.

“What do you want to eat?”

[attr="class","spiral"]"...?"

Of course food. What else would they eat? Each other? Fernando can feel the frustration mount onto his shoulders. He rebukes himself for even sparing the courtesy—a waste of breath and time.

"Cila," he calls out, "third meal, budget."

Unlike her, Fernando knows there's a difference between right and wrong. The biggest factor into it is that it's not up to him to discern which is which. Such inconsequential decision-making is a waste of his brain power. As insignificant as it is, it still uses up his brain and therefore detracts from such skills, or so he's read. So he lets his own personal assistant handle that.

What does matter is the macros, calories, and portion size of his meals. The what doesn't matter as long as all his needs are met. And, in that same vein, these are not decisions that Fernando asses himself to make. Money truly does buy happiness, giving him the freedom and convivence of having an onboard nutrition make up his meal plans and chart out his needs for the body-type and lifestyle that he wants. Everything else is just planning, calculating, and abiding by that ruleset.

When it comes to straight numbers, Cila, his personal AI, is more than sufficient. It picks the place with the highest reviews against a filter of how many calories Fernando still has in his allowance. The macros are considered as well but they don't have to be exactly within threshold, as long as he gets close enough.

"Cila, guest meal, cheat meal."

And he makes the extra order for Lulu as well. Considering she's done nothing but sleep for most of the day, he imagines she could use the excess calories. It makes maintaining her that much easier should the need arise to knock her out again for a day or two.

The order is made online, automatically, without any further prompting or request. It'll arrive in half an hour, give or take.

Fernando gives one more chance at ocean diving, getting particularly close to a 'point of interest' he's unaware exists, before minimizing the window.

"How was your nap?"

[attr="class","spiral"]"Indeed."

He doesn't bother elaborating further because it's only a waste of time. What's the point in divulging more information about him when all he wants is information about her? However tough she proves to be, she'll crack in time. One way or another, just like the rest of them.

"Food will be here within the hour. Behave and you just might get some."