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POSTED ON Mar 9, 2019 0:45:33 GMT

"i'm not as perfect as porygon." the sarcasm is subtle, at least until the porygon squeals in delight with a radiant beep boop. "i wouldn't want to make you lose your dinner before you've had it." and then he lays it on thick, right as they pull into what seems to be a bustling pub. having to park among the scattered, misaligned cars is where he draws the line. control is given back to the pokemon and it eases into a smooth motion of parallel parking. it's by no means clunky, and there's hardly a jerk, but the speed at which is slips in between two other cars is enough to frighten any overtly careful driver.

"ping kim cole-essam and let him know i won't be joining him after."

another beep boop and another confirmation that the porygon will obey.

he exits the car and makes no moves toward letting her out or locking his own car. something tells him that the courtesy would be lost upon her and he's never been one to make a faux pas at chivalry. there's one exception but they've both grown past that.

rascal's the same as always. a rowdy pub that defies the new culture that takes hoenn by storm. none of the patrons seem to share the sentiment that rocket is looming. they're all spades here, taking stride in their heartiness that bellows as they collectively get drunker. each and every one of them have their own little quirks, little oddities that promise an even odder future.

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POSTED ON Mar 13, 2019 3:15:23 GMT

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THAT LOVE IS LIKE A GHOST. OH, AND THE MOONLIGHT BABY SHOWS YOU WHAT'S REAL. THERE AIN'T A LANGUAGE FOR THE THINGS THAT I FEEL, AND IF I CAN'T HAVE YOU, THAN NO ONE EVER WILL. I DON'T FEEL IT TILL IT HURTS. YES, I KNOW THAT LOVE IS LIKE A GHOST.

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“How thoughtful,” the Sergeant said as she inwardly cringed at the speed of the park job, bracing for the crash that never came—suddenly, Bailey could understand why her parents had wigged out so much when they had been teaching her how to drive.[break][break]

Rascal's was as lively as always. Lilycove might have felt empty, but this place always seemed to keep itself busy. Bailey Cooper let herself out from the car, trying to ignore the head rush she felt when she rose back to her full height.[break][break]

For a moment, it was like she had forgotten about her bad mood—she had needed a distraction. Over the last few weeks, she had tried to find ways to burn time—tried to find ways to keep her mind occupied. If it came in a glass, then that was just fine in her book.[break][break]

The Sergeant barely caught Fernando's parting message to his Porygon before he stepped out of the car. It had sounded like council business. It was probably something that would bore her to tears.[break][break]

Without a word, she made her way across the threshold to the establishment. There was a different bartender, so... there was a good chance that there wouldn't be any bullshit—for now. “You wanna sit at the bar?” Her head turned back to the councilman, letting him make the decision.[break][break]

It didn't matter to her.

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POSTED ON Mar 16, 2019 2:27:43 GMT

forever the follower; playing it by ear means adjusting to the situation. it's easier to do so from behind so he lets bailey lead. footstep traces after footstep, falling in line as he wades through the crowd. he gives an idle wave to the bartender tonight, a good friend of his—amelia porter—before returning his attention to bailey.

"that's my usual go-to."

there's several open spots at the bar and most of them are more then a single stool. he points to one that's a bit more isolated from the rest, perfect for the extra elbow room needed for eating. "ordering at the bar seems to be faster on most nights anyway."

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POSTED ON Mar 26, 2019 5:53:36 GMT

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Amelia Porter was a familiar face.[break][break]

The two girls held eye contact for a fraction of a second—the pink bartender clicking together the empty glasses that were pinched between her fingers. There was a familiarity between the two of them; a similar energy that neither refused to acknowledge. “Please don't start up any trouble Bailey,” and the Sergeant refrained from her usual crude response, just because she could not muster that hostility to the cotton candy kid.[break][break]

The girl had been one of the people displaced from Slateport. One of the people that Bailey had guided through the train tunnels during the invasion—one of the lucky ones.[break][break]

“Yeah, yeah, not this time,” and Bailey took a seat at the distant stool that Fernando had suggested, happy to get her feet off the ground so she could find something to keep her balanced.[break][break]

A glass of water was set in front of her. When she sipped it, it was only enough for her to retrieve one of the ice cubes to chew.

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POSTED ON Jun 13, 2019 8:30:32 GMT

Bailey Cooper likes this

tickle him pink— it truly is a tiny world. watching people interact and know each other despite mutual friends always surprises him. naturally, bailey isn't one to be held down, and fernando knows little about her, if anything at all, but watching the two of them show some sort of familiarity makes him feel unsettled. just one of his many odd quirks. he disregards it when he takes a seat next to her.

however, water will not be enough to quench their thirst. a night like this is meant to be drowned out by the sweet bliss of an alcoholic haze. self destructive tendencies surface from despair. fernando doesn't know her pain, not from the loss of DANIEL WALKER . but, he has a full time job, and the burden of keeping up is one that's loosened by liquid relaxers.

"gin and tonic, amelia. we'll grab some food when you have a chance too."

he has no idea what bailey's choice in bar food includes but it can't hurt to hit the basics. they're universal for a reason.

"hangover fries and golden chick—the postmates special, y'know?"

he doesn't order her drink because he knows he'll never pick the right one. he can read a million expressions and thoughts, but someone's choice in liquor is a different ballpark.

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POSTED ON Jun 18, 2019 21:46:44 GMT

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“...uh, whiskey and coke,” and Bailey had to change liquors. As nice as the bourbon had been at the ceremony, it had also been free—or was it? Did she bail before the bartender could give her the bill? The Sergeant paused mid-sip with her water before realizing that it was too late for her to care.[break][break]

The League could pick up the bill. It was the least they could do.[break][break]

She could tell she was buzzed when the name Golden Chick sounded appealing--wasn't that one of those cyber specials that people got in their emails? What the hell was it again? Fried chicken? The Sergeant never came to this place for the food. Her stomach urged her to give it a try. “Oh yeah, and could you bring some hot sauce for the fries?”[break][break]

With their orders taken, Bailey would watch Amelia's head of bubblegum hair disappear.[break][break]

Now what? Her finger traced the rim of her water, thankful for the distractions that Rascal's offered. With all of the noise from the fellow patrons, it was hard to maintain her sour mood...or maybe it was just distracting her from it, as their drinks were set onto the table.[break][break]

“Think they'll even notice we left?” Probably not.

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POSTED ON Jun 19, 2019 7:42:57 GMT

the pair of glasses are set before them and fernando motions for his. doesn't bring it up to his lips. not yet. not when manners dictate that he should leave a window for her to match him. it's the least he can do on a day that's meant to commemorate her sacrifice. his head tilts toward her, questioning her with a sharp gaze.

"i didn't take you to be someone who cared, sergeant cooper."

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POSTED ON Jun 19, 2019 20:07:49 GMT

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“Pfft—I don't,” and his sharp gaze was lost on her as she nursed her drink, feeling the cold glass chill her fingers.[break][break]

When she took a swig, it was kept short. It'd be best to wait for food to arrive... and it was only when the glass tapped against the bar counter that she aired her annoyance. “I just think it's funny that they throw that whole shebang just to maintain appearances,” but that was just politics, right?[break][break]

“Fucking stupid.”

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POSTED ON Jun 20, 2019 5:08:16 GMT

fernando agrees with a bitter smile. "that's just politics." a mouthful of gin kills the emptiness of his mouth. a solemn mood is quelled the kindle of liquid fire. the burn is mild and it goes down smooth. kind of like tonight.

"at least you have a shiny medal and fancy title. that'll keep you content, right?" his sarcasm matches his tolerance, weary. his attention drifts until it settles on what's playing on the tele. it reminds him of their first encounter—except this time he's not plastered.

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POSTED ON Jun 20, 2019 5:22:34 GMT

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Even with a belly full of bourbon, she can recognize the sarcasm.[break][break]

Bailey Cooper smiled, but wondered why it felt so empty as her lips kissed the edge of the glass—he should have been right. A new title and a new medal should have been something worth celebrating. It just... felt hollow without someone to actually appreciate it.[break][break]

At one point, the Sergeant had found someone that made her want to try. Now, she is left with its ghost. The fire is still there; but, it will exist without the fuel, and it will burn as a reminder of scars that itch where she can't scratch. “I don't know what I want,” and those words slide out before they can be stopped, just like she can't stop her hand as she takes a longer sip.[break][break]

“Kicking the shit out of Rocket would be a start,” and she could daydream of the days that she used to live, where she had felt like a stupid kid in a big, empty world.[break][break]

It was better than being an adult trapped in the same predicament.

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POSTED ON Jun 23, 2019 4:46:18 GMT

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"—and then what?"

it's a question that few have the foresight to address. with the current campaign and how relevant rocket is, there's few who can spare the thought to ponder about a period without them. they're worse than the plague, seeping into the innate fear that few can disregard.

their food arrives and fernando slides both baskets toward her. the action may be minuscule and unnoticed, but he has the mind that tonight is supposed to be about her. a bottle of hot sauce sits at the opposite end, well within her reach, and fernando stares off back to amelia.

"jameson, on the rocks."

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POSTED ON Jun 23, 2019 23:13:09 GMT

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Foresight was not her forte. She took the hot sauce and oozed a cross-hatch pattern over half of the fries—her half.[break][break]

“Sort out my shit,” and her plan was not meant to impress. Bailey Cooper had no dreams of grandeur—no higher aspirations beyond protecting what was hers. She can remember her home without Rocket's stain. She wanted it back.[break][break]

Her medals were jingling. To stop the incessant noise, she clipped them off and shoved them into her breast pocket. “I wanna see Hoenn get back to the way it used to be,” and it's that protective streak that itched at her bones that made her such a nuisance—such a stubborn bitch that refused to release her claws. She'd see it through to its end.[break][break]

She grabbed a fork and stabbed it into the pile of drunken french fries, watching the melted cheese ooze.[break][break]

“Keeping my police badge might be my best chance at working towards that—I guess?” For a moment, her eyes would focus on the displaced Amelia Porter and how fucked the Slateport Invasion had been.[break][break]

"Dunno what'll happen after that." No point planning that far ahead.[break][break]

When the Sergeant chomped into her bite, she felt her teeth touch metal. It was red, hot, and spicy... followed by the mix of other flavors and fats that made it so indulgent—she chewed and swallowed. “How 'bout you? What's the big bad Silph gonna do when all this eventually blows over?”

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POSTED ON Jun 25, 2019 4:38:03 GMT

Bailey Cooper and dominic sinclair like this

fernando nurses his glass like the child he'll never have, unable to let go, easing it down while bailey describes her outlook on the future. somehow her answer seems deeply profound, given with simple, easy to digest diction but riddled with a deeper meaning. it's almost thought provoking, if not for the fact she's opening up to the one man who refuses to let current events digress back into a slice of life atmosphere.

he drains the drink like he does with anything else fun.

the reality of it comes in a cold, empty glass. amelia pours him another and fernando sits on it, watching bailey bite down on her fork. his smile is bitter, amused but utterly disappointed with the circumstances that surround them. "i finally rest and watch the sun rise on a peaceful region."

fernando turns back to his drink, eyes sunken as they dive deeper into the amber recesses of his jameson.

"i hear berry gardens are all the rage these days."

he makes no mention of persephone amavi because despite his tendency to keep secrets, deep down he doesn't expect to live long enough to reap the fruits of his labor.

Bailey Cooper

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POSTED ON Jun 25, 2019 5:04:01 GMT

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She does not buy it.[break][break]

“Pfft—sure,” and Bailey Cooper could see the way his eyes focused on his drink, as if his thoughts were a spout that was dripping into his glass; it was a look he had worn when they first met, in a bar that had been left to waste. “If you think that'll keep you satisfied.”[break][break]

Whiskey and Coke sweetened her palate. It cut the heat on her tongue, but not what churned in her gut.[break][break]

Berry gardens? “Oh yeah, I heard about that... I was, uh... lookin' at property the other day.” Her parents had left her their estate after they retired to Sinnoh. As much as Bailey would have liked to stay in her childhood home, there was something about the lack of family that made her itch to sell it.[break][break]

Shame the housing market was shit—another problem caused by Rocket.[break][break]

She fetched her phone, swiping to the image of the beachfront property. “Been lookin' into this one. It's cheap.”

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