Teleporting wasn't high on Skyler's list of most pleasant methods of transportation; she'd never gotten used to the sudden twist in her belly, the sensation of being displaced only to be spat out in an entirely new location. Usually that beat the inumerable hours she'd spent confusedly attempting to orient herself between tall, shaded trees - but only just.

Especially when, upon arriving at Verdanturf, her stomach decides to fold in on itself, causing bile to climb up her throat without warning. It makes taking in the sights more difficult; and even the renowed Verdanturf oxygen (which is apparently top quality) doesn't seem to be helping much.

But at least there's tequila, so everything's alright in the world.

Skyler finds herself lounging on the couch in a small bachelor's apartment while Lars goes busy himself in the - kitchen? What in Arceus' name...? The foreign lethargy that seems to have taken over her muscles goes ignored as curiosity has the captain following  Lars' footsteps and into the kitchen proper. A strangely familiar smell waffles up to her nose, and she can't help but creep closer until silver eyes are peeking down from over Laurence Anderson 's shoulder.

"Lars, you're - cooking? I didn't know you could cook."

By now she's half convinced she's actually in a fever dream.

"That sounds about right." Despite her words, doubt creeps up her expression as she peers down at the pans and pots. She's heard enough stories about Lars' cooking adventures (if you can call burning the kitchen down an adventure, that is) to be suspicious of whatever's happening in front of her right now.

At least if anything happens she has plenty of water types on hand. It's one of the reasons why the Sotally Tober is still standing today. 

Thankfully her stomach seems to have settled from the whole teleportation business. A delicious smell slowly permeates the kitchen as cured meat starts to sizzle, bringing a confused frown to Skyler's face. There's something weirdly familiar about it - but the the why eludes her scrambling brain.

While Lars is busy pouring the entire contents of a pasta box into the water - "I'm pretty sure that's enough for both of us, spiky." - the captain leans in to study the pan.

If she were at home, Sammy would already be grumbling up at her and all but shoving her out of the kitchen under the amused gaze of a certain ship cook/pilot.

And then it hits her.

"Lars, have you and Angelo ever traded recipes?"

"Because I'm pretty sure this is how he cooks it." Despite the fact that Skyler is, in no uncertain terms, unwelcome in the Sotally Tober's kitchen (mostly due to a certain Gulpin sous-chef) she often drapes herself over one of the chairs while angelo vestri cooks. Not only does it let her steal a snack before dinner, but it also allows her to appreciate her husband's behind while he isn't looking.

And sometimes when he is.

Either way, the scent that makes its way to her nose now is equal parts unmistakable and mouth-watering. "Y'know, Angelo cooks a lot of pasta dishes. Something about Alto Marean cuisine." Skyler reaches out to grab a string of spaghetti, hissing when it burns her fingers. She eats it anyway, if only to show it who's boss. Mmm, yum. "This is one of my favorites." 

Her statement is reflected in the greedy way she stares at the prepared meal, all but ready to forgo manners and eat it right out of the pan. It's almost regretfully that she opens a random cabinet, frowning.

"Maybe you use the same Parcoli cheese or Guacia or whatever. Ah - where do you keep the dishes?" 

A pause.

"And the tequila?" 

Lars' question goes unanswered, at least at first. Skyler is too busy being bossed around by her spiky best friend - and while her rebellious nature instinctually rises up and her lips part to say something undoubtedly insolent, the way her stomach growls makes her rethink her priorities.

Carbonara has no business smelling this good.

The sailor instead sinks into the chair with a heavy sigh, dismissing the creeping exhaustion that lodges in her muscles. She'd been working hard lately, she reasons, taking more contracts than what was probably healthy. But grim as it might be, war brings business. Skyler would sooner face a horde of ghosts than let these opportunities slip through her fingers. Not only that, but her work had become laughably easy since... Since a certain event.

There's a lot you can do when you don't have to rely on scuba gear.

Silver gleams as she catches sight of a tequila bottle, its side frozen where Lars has grabbed it. An amused snort escapes her. "Does Arti know you're using its powers to freeze tequila bottles?" Despite her words, satisfaction bleeds into her voice. She'd been too drunk to be able to properly taste the anejo back at the rowdy tavern, but now...

Manners stand no chance in the face of a hungry Skyler Dross. Shot glasses are filled to the brim and she pushes one in Lars' direction. Her own is raised. "To survivin'!" 

The blessedly cold liquid has barely had time to slide down her throat when the captain all but shoves a forkful of pasta into her mouth. 

"How come you can't cook? Shit, this is good pasta, spiky - have you been lying to me?" She speaks around a mouthful of pasta, humming in pleasure as the carbonara is all but wolfed down with a full and complete disregard for good manners. Ice cold tequila contrasts nicely with the carbonara's spice, and before she knows it both her and Lars have knocked down at least half the bottle.

Hence she's feeling relaxed (and strangely tired) when the Head Ranger's question hits her like a freight train. Her fork clatters down onto the bowl without her meaning to, silver eyes flying to meet with Lars' own.

"Yeah, I was." She hadn't seen much of what had transpired in the city proper, much too busy being eaten by a legendary whale. "Wait - were you there too?!"

Skyler remembers the strange journey through time they'd undergone last year after the Three Day War. She'd chalked it up to post-war stress at first, but then rumors started circulating that other people had gone through the same experience and - of course, she'd confirmed it when she'd talked to Lars.

"What d'you mean, a call? I do remember the dream and being in space, but what does it have to do with Sootopolis?" She'd all but ignored the floating city once she'd been spewed out of the Cave of Origins, other things taking precedence. Like a formidable, primal ocean deity chasing after her.

"I don't think I can help you much there. Wasn't paying too much attention." Skyler had never been one to beat around the bush, and she probably wouldn't start now. "Kinda preoccupied getting eaten by a whale." 

She punctuates the sentence with a forkful of carbonara and a whole shot of ice-cold tequila. 

"That might explain it. I might've been inside the Cave of Origin - y'know, that one at the base of the city - when you heard it." She'd been a little too busy casually conversing with a certain Rocket Boss and brokering a deal of sorts when they'd been interrupted. She was still waiting for Walsh to just materialize into existence in the Sotally Tober one of these days. "So I missed most of what happened, 'm afraid." A pause. "I did see the floating bits of Sootopolis... D'you think it might've been a Rocket thing?" If so, things were not looking too good for the League.

Briefly, a pang of alarm jolts through her at the thought of the very same thing happening to Lilycove. Her home.

"Ah - yeah." Thankfully the column of water that had risen in Kyogre's wake had all but hidden her demise from most peering eyes. Only Angelo, Razz and Locke had been privy to her getting eaten by the legendary. "Did you see that giant water spout rising in the middle of Sootopolis? It, err, might've been kinda my fault?" After all, she'd been the one to wake Kyogre from its nap.

She rolls her shoulders back, a frown stealing over her expression for a sliver of time at the ache within her muscles. Weird, she hadn't physically strained herself anymore than usual...

"But yeah, it ate me."