Cyg snorts, raising an eyebrow. Trust. “I’d say tacos, buuuut I’m not sure if I trust food truck carne asada.” It’s half-joke, all truth. “There’s a good barbecue truck that’s generally pretty safe because you can’t really pull brisket unless it’s cooked to a safe amount.” She tilts her head. “Or… falafel.”

She elects, in the end, for the falafel cart. She got a roasted eggplant and hummus, let Avery order what he wanted, and then picked a table for them to sit at, under a little umbrella.

“So what do you do when you’re not pressganging people into beach cleanups?” she asked, wiping her hands on her napkin.

wearing
@aver

☉

It’s good. The eggplant is a good substitute for meat and the hummus tasted like roasted peppers. “Always,” she said, grinning across the table at him, “it’s cheaper that way.”

The darkness grows a little heavier, the crowds become a little thinner. Streetlamps start to flicker and light. The pavilion they’re in butts up next to a cul-de-sac where the food trucks park, grey slate brick interspersed with pockets of cultivated greenery. Four paths, like spiraling Octillery arms, branch off in separate directions, each now disappearing deeper into the park.

“The people we’re dealing with are Pokemon poachers,” Cyg said, tone conversational, acting for all the world like they’re discussing their meal-- which was the plan. “They move through the park at night, pretending to be loading and unloading supplies for the food trucks, which is why it’s been so hard to track them. One box might have a bunch of stolen Pokemon and the next has burger buns, or something.”

She smothers a yawn on the back of her hand.

“We’ll go take a walk and stay in the area. We have to keep an eye out for the park ranger-- city government, not the League Rangers, really-- but that shouldn’t be too hard. Once he’s done his rounds we sneak back in, do some clobbering, and find the stolen cargo.”

Therefore liberating it for the glory of Rocket.

wearing
@aver

☉