Beneath the canopy of a humble looking stall provided for the week by the Splashfest event organisers, sits two obscenely bright coloured folding chairs. High-vis yellow and traffic cone orange.

They'd bothered to bring them all the way from Lilycove and yet they'd barely sat their asses in them. Nautica's little stand thus far going unoccupied more often than not, there primarily as a sponsorship formality while the restless, wayward owners brushed elbows with the potential clients in other ways.

So the fact that Elisabeth Fiorelli approaches it while someone is actually holding the fort is a stroke of luck.

Angelo is occupying both chairs when the greeting chimes over the sound of distant gull calls.

He casts an image of informality as he's caught unapologetically leaning back in the orange seat, boots propped up on the yellow and humming a butchered version of some cartoon his siblings used to make him watch way back.

When eyes follow the delicate cough, drawn from the leather-bound journal to the enquiring woman, pretty and tentative, one half of Nautica smiles back.

“Hey. Welcome,” feet slide off the yellow chair perch with a soft thud, Angelo dropping his book in the vacated seat when he rises.

“Ah,” comes the reaction to her request, lips pulling at one of the corners in something warmly apologetic. “Not unless you're planning on stowing away with the cargo. We're not really in the tourism business.”

Thankfully. For both himself and skyler dross's sanity.

Still, Angelo doesn't wave the woman and her bright-eyed Sunkern away.

Technically, he could just point the ethereal woman a few stalls down the way. There were plenty of boat tour companies lining the beachfront, some more suited to sightseeing in the kind of luxury the blonde exudes.

Somewhere that had a seaplane with cupholders and the leather upholstery was in mint condition.

Technically.

“Was it just the Slateport oceanfront you wanted to see?” He asks, pinning her with a hint outstretched beneath the curious twinkle of ocean blue.

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"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have misread your sign." [break][break]

This time, a finger twirled itself into her blonde hair, her green eyes seeking to dart away before angelo vestri's blue eyes could pin them in place. They held her there, frozen, as her Sunkern trilled a nonsensical melody onto the sea breeze.[break][break]

The tentative woman standing before the Nautica stall was a far cry from the florist who exuded a silent grace and poise in her own Petalburg shop.[break][break]

Here, Elisabeth was entirely out of her element.[break][break]

And quietly, she loathed it.[break][break]

"Just the oceanfront, yes," the blonde admitted at last. "Is... that an odd request?"
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“No. Not really,” he hums, reaching down to straighten out some Natuica business cards. Ever the fidget.

There were plenty of little tour boats that took vacationers up and down the shoreline. Clearly it wasn't odd, otherwise businesses wouldn't be making so much pokédollars from it during tourism season.

“See, thing is, I need to head Littleroot way today. Just for a quick stop. You need to fly along the Slateport coastline to get there from here.”

Nautica didn't provide them, true. But Angelo leaned into the change of the wind eagerly, craving the mystery of the road it pushes him down.

Lucky again for Elisabeth Fiorelli, he was getting restless behind the booth.

“If you don't mind the detour, I could push off now.” His suggestion falls off his tongue easily, wearing spontaneity as easy as throwing on his familiar old jacket over his shoulders.

“It can be an Angelo Vestri tour.” A roguish grin appears. “I can vouch for his very generous prices.” 

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Relaxed by the man's own ease of manner, Elisabeth's shoulders untensed as her restless hand fell to her lap. For her spontaneity was a dusty thing, mothballs being shaken out with each use.[break][break]

"If it's not too much trouble," the florist began, then stopped herself. [break][break]

There was no reason to be apologetic. She was allowed to want things for herself, even silly things like this one.[break][break]

"Yes," Elisabeth said decisively instead, nodding. "Yes, I would like that." A smile blossomed across her lips, radiant and genuine. "I am Elisabeth, by the way. It's nice to meet you."[break][break]

Studying his roguish expression, Elisabeth ventured, carefully, "...Ah, are you Angelo Vestri? Or is there someone else here, hiding under the counter."[break][break]

Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, fluttering with the excitement of someone much younger, as her Sunkern hopped in eager anticipation of the promised adventure to come.
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She was as stiff as a cookie that had been left outside of a tupperware box too long. Words and actions crumbling off Elisabeth Fiorelli unnaturally, as if she had to think a great deal before each careful bite.

Angelo wonders what a little fresh air and sea breeze would chip away, if at all.

“Actually, it'll make a change to have a co-pilot who can hold a conversation,” comes the response chasing crinkled eye corners, something honest twinkling in sky kissed blue.

As much as he enjoyed having a Shaymin sitting adjacent in recent weeks, the little sprout wasn't exactly what you'd call a 'chatterbox'.

“Nice to meet you, Elisabeth.” A calloused palm stretches out to tear off a piece of paper from his notebook, the tear ripping alongside an amused chuckle. “If there was, I don't think my business partner would be very impressed. It's cramped under there.”

There's something wicked in his expression as Angelo scribbles a hasty 'gone to lunch' sign.

“How's thirty PD? Little guy flies free.” He holds out his hand towards the Sunkern, as if measuring its height prior to a fairground ride.

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The little Sunkern stood up straight, straining to reach Angelo's outstretched palm. Elisabeth laughed at the silliness of the sight, covering her mouth with a hand.[break][break]

"Conversation sounds nice, Mr. Vestri," the blonde agreed, reaching past her Sunkern in the beach bag to pilfer her wallet. Delicate fingers rifled through crisp bills, eventually handing a 50 PD note to angelo vestri. "You can keep the change," she said, in that blasé way which only those nonchalant about wealth could manage.[break][break]

She'd inherited from a pair of dead parents and a dead husband both. What was 20 PD to her?[break][break]

As Angelo placed his 'GONE TO LUNCH' sign on the table, Elisabeth blinked for a moment, a strange guilt prickling at her. Had she thrown off his daily routine? He could have been being nice, after all.[break][break]

"Is it actually your lunch break?" This time when she reached into her bag, the florist brought out an apple, one that she wiped off on her skirt before holding it up in offering. "I can bring a snack, if need be."[break][break]

Her Sunkern stared at the apple in amazement: transfixed by the sight of something so delicious, so close, and yet oh-so-far.
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Angelo's fingers reach out to pinch the corner of the 50 PD note. There would be no utterances of abashed refusal or waved hands to be found here. Just a simple, shameless smile as it's tucked away into his pocket.

“We'll call it a generous tip, then.”

Just a few years ago, the difference of 20 PD would've ensured Angelo didn't go hungry as he camped out in the Hoenn wilds, cycling from town to town on a courier's pittance.

And yet his greed remained. Even after running a successful solo business, turned fledgling company under his co-ownership...

“Just a convenient excuse to fall back on. Save the apple, though. Looks like one of us might have it.”

Angelo walks out from behind the stall with a short whistle, calling the attention of a nearby gliding Wingull. It lands on the table with the pap pap of webbed feet. Can't leave the booth completely unattended, right?

“If we're all set, the plane's this way.”

With a little tilt of his head, Angelo gestures towards the craft that bobs upon the water further down the dock. His seaplane is sleek, white and blue, and garnering an impressive height with its floats. Taller than most of the boats. 

“And here she is.” There's a proud, almost affectionate smile on his lips as they come to stand before his vessel. With a fluid kind of motion that screams of a well-oiled routine, the pilot opens the door and pulls down the small ladder needed to comfortable hoist oneself into the cockpit. 

A palm is then extended to Elisabeth Fiorelli, offering to help her scale the height should she wish.

“Welcome aboard.”

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When the Wingull plopped obediently onto the stall counter, Elisabeth blinked once, somewhat bemused as she returned the apple to her bag. "What excellent service we're getting, Sunshine," she said to her Sunkern, a conspiratorial smile on her lips as she nodded at the seabird.[break][break]

Not that she was being judgmental in the slightest. At this very moment, her own Bellossom was manning her flower shop.[break][break]

"What's that Kalosian expression?" Elisabeth asked as she took Angelo's hand, allowing him to lift her onto the blue-and-white vessel. The roughness of his callouses stood in contrast to the softness of her own hands. "Bon voyage?"[break][break]

Despite herself, the florist was beginning to feel a little giddy as they boarded. It showed in the pink flush of her cheeks and the undimmed luster of her eyes.[break][break]

Something about doing this felt so freeing.[break][break]

All that being said, the inside of the seaplane was cramped. angelo vestri had not given her a luxury tour experience, but he hadn't promised her one either -- and to be honest, Elisabeth hadn't been looking for that in the first place. Privacy and solitude were paramount to her, and in this enclosed space, there was only room for herself, the Sunkern sitting happily on her lap, and the pilot who had generously allowed them aboard.[break][break]

"Any advice for a first-time flier with Nautica?" she asked him, buckling in. "Or do you prefer your flights to come with surprises?" There was a hint of mischief in the question, something that whispered at a woman with slightly more steel in her than appearances implied.
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“Or as we say in Alto Mare.” His hand and a carefree smile chase Elisabeth Fiorelli up the shining metal of the ladder, seeing her whisked away for that very impromptu adventure. “Buon viaggio.”

Following his passenger settling into the co-pilot seat, Angelo untethers the seaplane from the dock and climbs in himself.

Inside, as previously warned, is not quite as comfortable as the professional touring vessels. Although the back of the plane had been stripped of additional seating for cargo space, it's only wide enough for two seats in the cockpit - but to be honest, it's all that was needed.

Aside from the general wear and tear of age - and being second-hand - the Cessna is well maintained. There's little clutter, aside from two photographs stuck onto the control panel with strips of tape, out of the way of obstructing any dials or switches.

One of a group of five kids squished into a small motor boat, some smiling and some looking ready to elbow a sibling into the water. Another is of skyler dross when they'd gone to Alola, dishevelled but beaming after a day of sun, adventure and alcohol. She's posing in front of a Lapras themed boat they'd found on Poni Poni island.

“Keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times. Don't get touchy with the buttons. And surprises are always welcome,” he rattles off automatically with a relaxed smile, enjoying the slow easing of the woman's initial stiff exterior. “But if I do my job right, the only ones we come across today will be for you.”

There's a promise of mysteries to be discovered in the twinkle of his eye. Foretelling that he's about to forever ruin the formulaic agenda of the tourism world for her.

Angelo passes Elisabeth a headset for her to wear, so she can hear him when the plane takes to the sky.

“Have you flown before?” He asks, eyes and fingers brushing over dials as he makes his pre-flight checks with the kind of smooth ease that hints it's long been burned into his memory.

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The headset replaced her sunhat with ease, the frizz of her humidity-dampened golden curls hiding neatly under this makeshift helmet. [break][break]

She listened intently as angelo vestri described his safety rules, her Sunkern's large eyes focusing on the many shiny buttons with a toddler's fascination. A sneaky vine slipped out from the Pokémon's hold in Elisabeth's arms, only to be swatted away soundly by the disapproving florist.[break][break]

"Do you want us to crash, Sunshine?" she said, peering at the pouting seedling. "I think not."[break][break]

Once her wayward Sunkern had been chastised, Elisabeth's eyes roamed about the cabin. "I've flown a few times, mostly to and from Kalos," she admitted. "Not often, and nothing like this." [break][break]

This humble vehicle was a far-cry from the luxury liners she had known, the kind that had transported her to Hoenn and away from the home she ran from. When she had last flown with Georgette Bluebottle to Camphrier Town, she'd indulged them in first class, though more out of guilt than anything else.[break][break]

She wasn't exactly good company, when it came to her home region.[break][break]

"This is my first time in a seaplane, actually." [break][break]

Her voice didn't sound disappointed in the slightest, but more wondering, her natural curiosity drawing her attention to the photos that adorned the interior. The children brought a faint smile to her lips, but the photo of skyler dross prickled at the back of her mind, gnawing at some memory she should recall, but that kept slipping through her fingers.[break][break]

Why was this woman so familiar.[break][break]

"Your guardian angel, I take it?" she asked, indicating the photo with a teasing grin.

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“Huh?”

Quiet descends upon the seaplane cockpit, Angelo's attention broken from his routine checks. Brow furrowed in bewilderment, he curiously follows Elisabeth Fiorelli's navigational arrow of emerald green.

It takes a moment for her question to click.

Puzzled silence is shattered by a crisp bark of laughter, joyous peals filling the cockpit like playful thunderclouds rumbling in a summer storm.

“Something like that,” he muses on a wide smile, all too satisfied in the amused afterglow of the comical suggestion. “Think she's more likely to be my devil of retribution if I crashed.”

Judging by how his eyes crinkle at the corners in equal measures affection as they did amusement towards the photo, he wouldn't wish skyler dross any other way.

“But hey, even if she keeps me aloft in fear of invoking her wrath, she's still my Sunshine.”

A jesting smile and a teasing shrug is spared towards the woman and Sunkern sat in her lap, whom shared the nickname he'd given Skyler since the early days. Although he's certain that the little seed pokémon was termed as such for something far more on the nose.

With that said, Angelo reaches for the key. Twists it with a click to the left. A click to the right. Before turning it all the way, firing the seaplane up with a healthy roar of its engine, full of life.

“Ready to see that oceanfront, Elisabeth?”

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"Is that so? I've always had a preference for devils over angels, myself," she confided with a laugh, while the Sunkern in her lap stared agape at the view outside the window. "How fortunate for us, that we both have our own pocket of Sunshine."[break][break]

It tickled her, slightly, that she'd given the same nickname to her little seedling as he'd given to the beautiful woman in this photo.[break][break]

...Who probably, let's be honest, was more deserving of such a golden name than the squirmy, misbehaving Pokémon on the florist's lap.[break][break]

When the engine began to roar, the Sunkern let out a 'cheep' of alarm, flailing vines as Elisabeth rolled her eyes and held them down. "Don't be so dramatic," she chided, like a schoolteacher dealing with a particularly fussy child. "Do you want to go back into your Pokeball?"[break][break]

The Sunkern shook its head back and forth vigorously, and Elisabeth smugly said, "I didn't think so, no."[break][break]

It probably looked very ridiculous to the pilot beside her, but no thought was given to appearances in the moment.[break][break]

Only when Sunshine had calmed down did Elisabeth let herself enjoy the thrill of the humming aircraft, the thrum of the noise as it prepared to depart erasing whatever disapproval her Pokémon had invoked in her.[break][break]

Turning to angelo vestri again with a bright smile, she replied, "I wouldn't dream of coming unprepared, Mr. Vestri. By all means, at your leisure."
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If he'd taken off at his leisure, Angelo would already have been long gone by now. Become but a dot on the horizon, filling the time between jobs with the everlasting hunt for islands. Then there wouldn't have been anyone at the stall for Elisabeth Fiorelli to meet.

“Then I don't need to bother warning you about the take-off, do I?” Comes the blasé response through the headset when the hum of the aircraft turns hearty.

A smile, flashed in the corner of expansive blue eyes, provides hint at something sharp, mischievous, peeking through the clouds. 

Chuckles crackle, distorted by the feed, into Elisabeth's ear. Good thing the little Sunshine couldn't hear his comment over the loud thrum of the engine.

“Hold onto your hat.”

As promised, it's a bumpy ride. With no concrete to glide upon, the seaplane jostles on its journey upon calm waves to build noisy momentum, heading away from the docks.

Until she lifts.

That sensation of being pushed back into your seat, feeling the floats leave the water as gravity is defied, is a feeling that Angelo never wishes to retire.

Gradually Angelo tilts the plane and it smoothly coasts through the air, swerving back around from heading out to sea, to flying parallel to the Slateport coastline.

As requested.