It took a few blinks for Soren to realise. While he watched his Panpour merrily flicker its tail to the next sprout in need, there was a shift of his attention; a whispered ”oh” that was caught in between his breath. Small talk had been something he hadn't done in a long time. “I suppose it is not what I believed i'd be doing, no,” he candidly replied. “But i'm not opposed to it. I'm merely content that my experience could be useful so early.” Even the heat coming from above left Soren with no complaints.
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Hours could pass and his hands would still be deep into the soil, pulling roots and harvesting berries until the courtyard was bare and hushed. That was what Soren was used to, anyway. It was already a substantial difference having someone across from him.
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“Of course, sir,” he nodded, too instinctively for his good. That was what was more typical for him. “I admit, the fresher air is something that feels more natural to me. Although there are still many things i'm adjusting to …” The weight of the steel lifted in Soren's hand, offering itself to the other. His eyes glanced towards the open ceiling before Elijah once again caught him off-guard with another remark.
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“Do I?” was all he questioned, a finger circling his cheek. “Oh, my. It seems you're right. Ah, my poorly sight will end up affecting you too, won't it? Forgive me.” As graceful as Soren sounded, it wasn't as if these types of situations bothered him. Living in isolated terrains for so long, it was foreign for him to remember that 'keeping up an image' meant something in other places.
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Regardless, Soren was aware of the concept of being looked down upon. With the smallest flush of embarrassment, he shrugged his shoulder, wiping whatever residue that remained on him off. He'd take note to be more careful with his appearance when around superiors … even if it was difficult for him to notice these errors, to begin with.

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[attr="class","ooc"] elijah gardner [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-panpour"]

“Well, admittedly, I have always enjoyed work like this,” he informed. “I fit much better picking berries than being placed at a terminal somewhere else. I'm afraid i've proven that more times than i'd like to you.” An anxious chuckle escaped Soren's throat, calloused hands sliding to his neck to wipe away a few trickles of sweat. Compelling as everything was, he still often found himself most comfortable sinking back into the older ways; keeping himself detached within the same world he left behind. 

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Perhaps that was the only lifestyle he believed could make sense. Even with so many doors opening, Soren had still kept so many closed.

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As if to suppress him. 
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His gratitude returned to the other rather swiftly, although it was followed with a look of confusion. Elijah very well might've asked why was it that Soren needed to breathe. It was something that ingrained in him. “Should I refrain?” he questioned, taking the opposite edge of the fabric that loitered in the air. “I assumed it would've been required towards higher-ups. Just how it was required at ho — er, any place similar … ” He caught himself there. 

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“Would Mr. Gardner suffice instead? Ah, my way of speaking must be dated … ” Soft dabs of the handkerchief tapped against Soren's cheek, lost in his own thoughts. His Panpour twirled between the two Rockets, seemingly finished with what they were doing, plopping a couple of the vibrant fruits that lounged against his owner's side and into one of the baskets nearby. 

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"Thank you, Panpour," soren added.

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[attr="class","ooc"] elijah gardner [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-panpour"]

Soren wasn’t so passé to not take the man’s word, instead of his overthinking. He patted the cloth once more onto his cheek, feeling relieved, before lifting it up. “Elijah,” he uttered. Despite knowing the name for weeks, it felt foreign when it came from his tongue. “Um, well then, Elijah … did I manage to get it?” Covered as Soren was with soil, he hoped he was now presentable from above. It was almost comical asking Elijah as serious as Soren did, especially when he spoke so awkwardly; scatty of the line between friendliness and formality.
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Boss was an abrasive term for Soren’s ears. Even if he enjoyed talking about his home life, he couldn’t think of an argument to dispute what was said. “No. No, they weren’t,” he answered plainly. “It was merely an old way of living. I hadn’t even seen much of the city until I was recruited.”
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He rested the fabric against his lap, gloved fingers returning to the earth. As practised as Soren was, pulling plants and harvesting berries paid a toll on him, heaving large breaths of air from his chest. With Elijah’s second of rest, Soren allowed his hands back into one of the containers. “I’d say you are—” he grunted, settling a sprout down. “… my boss, after supervising me for so long. I’ve paid respects to people younger, so it isn't as if I find it strange. Ah, however, I can’t say i’ve talked this much to one of my bosses like this, before …” not that Soren minded. Whether Elijah considered him a friend, Soren found just the idea of it as pleasant. It wasn’t like he made any of those often, Rocket or otherwise.


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[attr="class","ooc"] elijah gardner [break]



[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-panpour"]