“Thanks,” Memo says, unable to stop from preening under the (region renowned) professor’s praise-- even though Titanic was doing all the work. He patted her head gently, like a proud father appraising his mid-life crisis sports car. “She broke my nose when I first found her. And then almost broke my neck when she evolved.”

For her part, Titanic was content to float calmly in the shallow water, occasionally moving forward with a little twitch of her fins or pulse of her tail when the currents moved her about. She wasn’t at all bothered by Eva’s approach-- honestly, after sitting and drying out on the beach for fifteen minutes trying to get Alexei Ivanov to climb on her back, anything was preferable.

“She’s pretty calm,” Memo said, looking down in fond appreciation. “But she’s definitely a Ghost, of some fashion or another.”

Alex’s Ghost-dar had pinged fit to bursting, so that was confirmation enough.

“Oh, pictures!” Memo said, a lightbulb going off over his head. He stumbled forward a little bit. “I can get out of the way, hold up.” He sloshed up towards the shore.

Eva Morales

☉

He came up onto the warm sand, golden silt sticking to his wet feet and ankles. The Rotomphone churned the air with a light buzzing, not unlike an insect.

“Yeah,” he said, realizing as he said it he didn’t have any concrete evidence to give her. If only Alex were here. “I-- have a friend who is very in tune to these things.” He gave her a smile and a half shrug, as though apologizing. It wasn’t quantifiable data. But Alex’s ghost-dar had never been wrong.

He did note, with a sort of stinging pride, that there had been no hesitation in the words he’d used. Friend. He’d already broached that subject once and been respectfully rebuked. It wouldn’t hurt him any to be patient.

Titanic turned her head, shifting in a C-shape to show Eva her tail of pluming smoke. She did a full turnaround in the water, like a veritable fashion model.

“I haven’t seen anything too special,” he said, tilting his head to look down at his Very Big Fish, “but I haven’t used her in combat much. But…”

He frowned, as though debating whether or not he actually wanted to say what he was going to say next.

“I do get the feeling that she’s quite… sad. Like an overwhelming feeling of it.” He winced. More speculative nonsense. “Sorry, that probably doesn’t help much.”

Eva Morales

☉

Memo tilted his head to peer down at his beloved Fish. “Huh,” he said, hand on one hip, doofy smile slowly spreading across his face. “Good to know I’m not just going crazy, then.” It felt nice to be validated, especially when it came to something as immaterial as a feeling that he could very well have been making up.

“How many of these weird variations have you studied?” he asked, sloshing back out into the water to place a hand on Titanic’s head.

Eva Morales

☉

It was remarkably relieving, to be assured that he knew his Pokemon. Such a simple thing.

"Thirteen?” Memo parrots, arms crossed. “Oh, wow, that’s a lot. You must be busy.” He ran a hand along Titanic’s head. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve found?”

Eva Morales

☉

Eva lights up like a friggin’ megawatt lightbulb whenever she talks about something interesting-- which, Memo is led to believe, a lot, by just how frequently she flares up. She talks about her discoveries like a wine mom looking at a very extensive tasting menu, like there’s just too much to sample, and nothing she could pick would be bad.

He wrinkles his nose. “Extinct?”

He tries to follow along as she explains it but he just sort of gets lost-- which is funny because it’s frankly a simple concept.

“What gives you the impression they’re from the past?” he asks, head tilted. “As opposed from, like… the future?” And then he wants to smack himself because it sounds dumb as hell. What else would be opposed to the past, you nitwit?

Eva Morales

☉