Arlo had expected a bit more exciting work when he applied to be a ranger. Sure! He knew the job wouldn’t be all adrenaline pumping goodness that he craved… but– grooming a furfrou? Really? Nobody else, not even the trainer himself could get the thing in proper shape. He wanted to call the trainer out for neglect, though was it really his place to do so? No, no it most certainly wasn’t.

Holding his tongue Arlo accepted the job with as much enthusiasm as the man could muster. Perhaps this was a normal thing for the newbies to do as it was such a low priority task.

Showing up Arlo saw the ungodly sight which was the poor furfrou and winced. He didn’t exactly have a delicate or graceful hand, so when the other person helping him asked him what they should do he pulled out a pack of gum. It was mint flavored. He offered a stick to the man before popping two pieces into his mouth.

“Er,” He said between chews. “I got a pair of scissors,” Arlo pulled out a shiny pair of silver craft scissors from his back pocket. He blew a bubble and snapped it before continuing.

“But I ain’t no expert on furfrou grooming, don’t some have top hats of hair and whatnot? How do they do that?” This thing was just a big pile of grey and white fur. He was sure a bit was matted around the paws, belly, and ears. 

“Is it clean at least?” Arlo sighed doubtfully.[break]

Greyson Connors |

Arlo quirked the brow etched with three scars at the younger man's question. “No?” He wondered if he looked like the kind of man to stupidly carry scissors in his back pocket on the daily grind. “...but I was told what we were doing so I thought I'd be at least a little prepared, y’know?”

He blinked at the ribboned pokemon that sprang from their ball. Surely this pink thing knew how to be stylish to some extent. It looked more doll-like than a pokemon. Was that their flesh– the bows? The hair on Arlo’s neck stood up at the thought of the waving ribbons being weird arms for the pokemon.

To the next question and a scan from the other’s eyes, heat started bubbling in his throat. There was only a brief moment to think if he should lie or not.

“I wanted a new start. I’m from Kanto and the ship I got onto was heading to Hoenn… So here I am,” He didn’t look at Greyson as he spoke, letting his shoulders shrug dully at the end of his statement. It wasn’t untruthful, but he left out large bits of unneeded information.

“What about you?” Quickly he flipped the conversation to Greyson, hoping he’d be more talkative about his past so they wouldn’t need to dwell on his. "I'm sure your story is more interesting than mine," Arlo kept his eyes averted as he pulled out his froakie’s ball and let the little guy out.

“I think I heard it’s good to cut wet hair? Er, well not like sopping wet, more damp,” He sounded doubtful. He wasn’t even sure where he had heard that tidbit from. Perhaps Celeste, his ex-wife, when she went to get her hair cut and colored.

Greyson Connors |

Arlo felt a bit stupid when the boy asked if the scissors was all he brought. He could feel the back of his neck warming up slightly but he refused to let that heat spread much farther. He didn’t respond as that was all he brought to the situation besides his partner pokemon. Thankfully, Greyson was quick to answer his probe about life. It seemed like a normal story until he mentioned the legendary pokemon groudon.

“I wouldn’t think facing any legendary would be fun. They’re powerful for some reason, even the small cabbage celebi. It would be interesting though,” He would have expected any person to be more chatty about that sort of encounter, but perhaps something unsightly had happened that he didn’t want to rehatch to a random ranger. He didn’t poke any farther.

“Yup! I got Frog,” He tugged one of his pokeballs from his belt and released the pokemon froakie. It blinked with its large eyes and promptly sat on the foot of Arlo, not quite understanding it was to participate in the task.

“Frog, give this furfrou a little bath,” Arlo demanded, lifting his foot up so that the pokemon were on an even level. Frog looked up at their trainer and then disheveled dog and seemed to understand. Opening their mouth water began squirting out. The furfrou didn’t seem all too happy about getting wet and let out a yelp and tried jumping off of the table.

“Oi, hold the mutt,” He said to Greyson, as he was on one foot and didn’t have the stability to hold onto a squirming dog. He however grabbed a handful of the fluffy fur for a moment so it couldn’t run away; which awarded him a nasty warning snap, lips quivering and all.

“Brat,” He growled at it with a threatening shine in his eyes.

Greyson Connors |