Guinevere Auclair

where hugo is a skittish and uneasy, riley is daring and curious. her wet nose lingers mere inches from his face, taking in the psychic-type's scent. after a moment, she licks the ralts, a small spark dancing over her tongue. greyson knew from experience that the experience was like licking batteries, only, this one licked back.

"iced water coming right up."

he takes a glass out of the cabinet, carefully examining it in front of him, hiding the action from gwen. he didn't want a spec of food or something to ruin the night. that'd be embarrassing.

"uhm."

he hesitates, turning his attention back to her. the rattling of the ice from the fridge as it pours into the cup shakes him free of the momentary stupor. he shifts to the water filter, allowing it to fill.

"did you want to prepare the potatoes? i hope you're a fan of them being baked."

once finished, he placed the cup down near the woman.

"or there are a few vegetable options, if you wanted to choose."

Guinevere Auclair

"hm, it should be around here somewhere."

greyson crouches under the sink, grabbing a... strainer?

"uh, will this do? best i got, i think."

he hands over the stainless steel, turning to the pokemon near the door.

"riley, leave the poor thing alone. go to the couch, please."

the boltund's head snaps in greyson's direction, then, with a soft whine, moves to do as greyson asks.

"sorry 'bout her. she's easily excited."

patting the top of his own head, he exhaled. then, he moved to prepare the large steaks.

Guinevere Auclair

he catches glimpses and peeks of gwen as she tucks her hair behind her ear. he can't suppress the small smile that blooms in it's presence.

"is everything okay with him? if he needs a friend, i've got a another butthead that's full of personality."

he blinks.

"and just his size, too."

he works as he speaks, patting the meat dry with a paper towel. satisfied, he begins to apply the salt and pepper, pressing it into the meat with purposed pressure. finished, greyson holds his dirtied hands up, ears perking at he question.

"uh, the forks and knives and stuff are there." he points. "and uh, i was thinking stove top. is that alright?"

if she remains by the sink, greyson moves to stand next to her. he'd give her a playful hip bump, lips curling into a small smirk.

"here, scooch. let me wash my hands real quick."

Guinevere Auclair

"no, no. never. sorry, a bad joke."

he chuckles sheepishly, running sticky hands under the warm water. after a few moments, a dash of soap, and a hand-towel later, he heads for his bag.

when greyson stands, he's holding a pokeball.

"let's see how they get along. to be honest, i've yet to name this little guy. still trying to think of something."

greyson chews on his inner lip, but releases the creature from the comfort of it's capsule. soon enough, a gible joins the motley crew of weirdos.

the land shark pokemon gives each living creature an appropriate amount of time under his gaze, then— starts to chew on a table leg.

a sigh slips past greyson's lips.

"like i said: a butthead."

he returns back to the kitchen as ellie floats over towards the gible, giving it an earful that sounded like the rustle of leaves on the wind. ellie loved playing bad cop.

he realizes his mistake quickly.

"what do you say we throw the potatoes in the oven and we'll cook the steak on the stove-top. might be easier."

he gives her another smile, this one apologetic. it was his idea of course to cook it on the stove-top.

"i'll start the steaks in a little bit, since the potatoes will cook for a while. would you like to join me on the house tour and then relax until then?

Guinevere Auclair

he doesn't comment on the missed interaction. if it was awkward for her— it was twice so for greyson. best to drop it. combine that with the blunder of his potatoe directions, and... things needed to turn around and quickly, or else she wouldn't want to come back.

"that's my bad." he admits. "i've... never had someone else in my house before, so im kind of nervous."

after placing the potatoes in the oven, they make their way to the living room.

"well, you've seen the kitchen and bar area."

greyson unceremoniously moves his arm in the direction of the aforementioned kitchen.

"this is the living room. i think the pokemon spend more time in here than i do."

riley, the boltund, eyes them panting as she lifts her head up from the couch's cushions. saliva drips from her mouth, while in the background, the gurgling of his gible sounds from the walk-in. the living room is modest, and minimalistic. there's no real explosion of color, most of everything is either tan, brown or some color that goes well with it. the only real flavor was the half-a-dozen plants scattered in corners, a top shelves, and sitting outside.

greyson wasn't good at interior design, admittedly. it really needed a woman's touch.

next, he led her down the hall to a series of doors.

"this is a spare room. i'm trying to get a roommate to save some cash. that's the bathroom and shower. this is a sort-of closet things. i place towels and other random things i have no idea what they're for, in here."

he stops in front of the last door on the left.

"and finally, my room."

it's not a large bedroom, likely one of the smallest gwen has ever seen, with her profession. but it's comfortable. a king sized bed, a few dressers, a large mirror and a walk-in closet. it did what greyson needed it too. luckily, he had cleaned in the past few days and bought air fresheners. he was hyper vigilant of what people saw and smelled in his home.

"what do you think?"

Guinevere Auclair

greyson's breath catches. did she think the air fresheners were like... needed? he just enjoyed a fresh smelling home.

he didn't smell.

right?

he pushes the desperate plea to sniff himself and closed his door, patting his hair bashfully.

"it's not much, but, it feels like home."

well, once he added a few more plants. they always made things better.

greyson leads her back to the main room, sitting on the primary couch. he tilts his head back and catches the delphox's curious eye. her maw is twisted upwards in a sly smile and greyson quickly changes his attention elsewhere. what was she thinking in that devilish head of hers?

hoping gwen didn't notice, he tries to imitate comfort. or, as much comfort as one could have when their every thought was consumed by the idea that their entire home and life were being judged constantly.

why was this so nerve-racking?

he stands again just as suddenly.

"i think i need a drink."

he moves to the kitchen to fetch a bottle and glass of wine. inside he debates asking her if she too wanted one. hadn't she already refused? would it be rude to ask? would it be rude not too?

ugh.