His lack of irritation and ease of spirit were things fairly new to her. During the building of their friendship at Kaleidoscope, he’d been rigid, cold sometimes. Difficult, although these were all parts of what she’d found enjoyable about his company. She was a strange breed, maybe.

Things had warmed up between them, though, it seemed. From what she could recall, and what she felt, he had managed to melt that ice within her own soul a bit. Little did she know it had in fact simply been smashed to bits, still frozen as ever. Those fragments hid beneath the surface of some sick fire he stoked with a new tone: flirtation—free of conflict or tension.

That wouldn’t last, regardless of reveals. Lulu craved tension. Then, now. Always.

Figuring they were safe enough with the guard of his Umbreon and Zoraora, she strode up to him without releasing anything else.

“Do you?” The look of confusion had already left her face, her thoughts clearly moving on from Djall’s waving red flag. Her smirk was practically roguish as a finger went up and swiped a drop of sweat off his chin and replaced it on her tongue. Her eyes cut at him. “You know, you’re hotter a mess like this.”

She leaned in to look him deep in the eyes and feign darkness before suddenly cracking a grin and poking him in the chest. “I’m taking the winning shot while you’re weak.” She then promptly bolted, down the path. “Race you!”

A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that he was running after, and catching up quickly. It widened her grin, but the beginning of laughter was cut off as she was full-on sacked out of the air and into the trees off to the side by a careening Drakloak. It happened in a blur. There was a trace of a surprised yelp, and she had disappeared.

Leaves rustled, twigs snapped, expletives muttered over a very short struggle before the Drakloak was blown back across the path to the other side via a SHADOW BALL from a shiny Orbeetle.

She brushed the leaves off and jogged back onto the path. Surely, he’d caught up by then, if not before. It would seem the Drakloak was far gone. Perhaps it had been attempting to escape something else, or maybe simply in a hurry for some other reason. Honest mistake.

The Orbeetle remained at her side, hovering off the ground. There was a new, small scrape across her cheek. The woman clearly couldn’t catch a break.

She looked for Fernando, seeming fine, except for a touch of disappointment that her game had been cut short. Perhaps things tried to attack her often. “You’re lucky that happened.” she panted towards him, smirking. “I would have beaten you.” Pulled a small twig out of her hair.

A hand reached down to retrieve a cigarette—the only hint to the annoyance of her struggle. She lit it and took a drag, looking up the path, wondering about the distance. She’d walk next to him for now, if that was what they were doing.

Unless, of course, he simply ran past her.

His smile was met with a keen side-eye, the corner of her mouth still pinched competitively.

Brushing off more dust and exhaling smoke, she shook her head at his question. “Not at all, other than where to plant them.” Lulu had neglected to do the required research with the gardeners, only catching notes in the halls of HQ. This was not her field, no pun intended.

A pokeball returned the Orbeetle once more, perhaps giving away a sense of security with him, his team. As long as she didn’t run up ahead. Upon being tackled by one… well, half-ghost, she’d decided she still didn’t care for them.

“I wonder where they came from, originally. Sort of odd to hand these all out and not tell us.” Then, realizing who she was walking with, she looked pointedly at him, teasing, “Don’t you think you should do something about this? Been aliens. Mutant vegetables could be Hoenn’s next great debacle.”

As they reached the top, the wind blew her bangs back a bit. She squinted through it, admiring the view for a moment.

Hot air snorted. “Doesn’t take long to realize what an exciting place this is.” Her tone was waggish as she looked out over Hoenn, still visibly healing from the geographical wounds of interdimensional warfare.

An accountant. This was an odd way for Fernando Silph to present himself. Why put on such a powerful front only to undermine it when it’s acknowledged? Just to be contrary, perhaps?

Although driven by the untouched whisper of a job to pry, what ultimately caused her to pick at him was the urge to tease—and it would be more than he had likely grown used to at the bar, because they were friends friends, now. Lulu was no longer backing down when he turned to stone. She was emboldened, and his glare did nothing to her when she looked up to catch it. She smiled back.

“No, you’re not.” she challenged. Dead-feeling fingertips squeezed the hot end off her smoke and stuffed the filter in a silver case which snapped shut. “That might be one of your hats, but you’ve got several. Hats add up.” To power. Have your hand in all the baskets, words in all the ears. Networking. “If you don’t save Hoenn from mutant vegetables, it’s because you don’t want to.”

She changed directions to view the turned soil a small distance away. “Guess that’s it.”

Everyone had a motive. That was something Lulu had internalized. She didn’t know what Fernando’s was, with his involvement in Hoenn’s politics, entertainment, economy… but no one took on that much and used it for good. No, that looked more like a dictatorship waiting to happen.

Influence was the ultimate superpower.

She let his wistful moment pass through them on the breeze silently.

“Why do you spread yourself so thin?” She was curious, and the question was casual, made even more so by the way she lowered to crouch near the ground, staring at the dirt a moment. Should have maybe brought a shovel. Trowel, or whatever the hell they were called.