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Footsteps sound outside the cell, and Orion glances up. Given the circumstances, Tam Fawley is the last person he expects to see. Alarm seizes in his chest, rendering him breathless.

"Tam."

Arceus, how was he going to get himself out of this?

You're not. He knows it before the Captain even opens his mouth, and the level expression worn by the other does nothing to tamper Orion's certainty. He'd been given a second chance and he'd blown it in spectacular fashion. You're done.

The anger with which he'd defended himself to the officers who'd booked him in has since deflated, and Orion cringes from the accusation.

"I know," he mumbles, "I'm sorry."

It wasn't Tam's fault he was a walking disaster.

mission: cut one's losses

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Orion certainly keeps his head down now. His shoulders slump under the weight of shame, the absence of his prosthetic arm feeling all too obvious as he pushes himself up from the bench with his good arm and crosses to where Tam has opened the cell.

"Thanks," he manages, soft but hoarse with emotion.

He doesn't deserve Tam Fawley bailing him out. He hadn't been wrong about Chu-e Choi but it had been a stupid decision to attack him in public and risk the reputation of the one person who'd decided Orion was worth a second chance. He regrets his actions not for himself, but for the Captain.

At the desk, he can't meet the eye of the female officer who hands back his pokeballs and prosthetic arm. He'd been affronted when they'd taken it from him, but the fact that it could be detached and potentially used as a lethal weapon was apparently enough to justify the dehumanizing confiscation. She seems sympathetic, and somehow that's worse.

"Do you need any help...?"

"No," he says, too quick and a bit too sharp. "I've got it."

He's had the arm long enough that the process of popping it back into the socket is routine, if difficult and still embarrassing to do with eyes on him. He does it anyways, flexing metal fingers before closing them around his pokeball belt and slipping it on.

The absence of his badge is noted, but not commented on. Probably gave it to Tam.

He doesn't ask.

Instead, once they're out in the midday Hoenn sunshine, he looks to Tam like a lost puppy seeking direction. Where to? He's sure he already knows.

mission: cut one's losses

notes

Uncomfortable as he was to bear the shame of Tam Fawley's disappointment, Orion's mood improves markedly after only a few seconds of sunshine. He can feel the warmth of it through his prosthetic as his Rotom nestles back inside. It's stronger than the sensation of heat on his skin, a product of the dark metal. It's nice, though, almost grounding.

He glances in the direction of Slateport's Ranger HQ, expectant, but turns his attention back to Tam when the other speaks. That they're heading in the opposite direction might've been worrisome if he were more suspicious of Tam's intent, but instead he finds himself confused as he takes a couple jogging steps to catch up. Where are we going?

It doesn't take long to find out.

Orion's never been to Howling at the Moon, but he recognizes it from the few times he's passed it on patrol. A bar...? A sideways glance is shot to Tam, questioning whether or not this is the place, but the Captain's already opening the door by the time Orion looks his way. Guess so.

It's nice, inside, with a younger crowd and a quieter atmosphere than Orion expects.

Ever the picture of anxiety, Orion sticks close to Tam on the approach.

mission: cut one's losses

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You're welcome, Tam Fawley.

Orion, too, avoids bars on principle. A drink or two is a welcome excuse to drown out his anxiety but the presence of strangers offsets any comfort that liquid courage might provide. He'd hated social settings before the incident, but his prosthetic arm now attracts more attention than he ever had before. Perhaps that's part of the reason he's had such trouble accepting it as a part of himself. It makes him stand out, when all he'd like to do is disappear.

So, when Tam leads them to a quieter part of the bar, Orion is thankful regardless of whether or not it had been for his benefit.

"Whatever's on tap," he mumbles, too worked up to consider their menu. "Thanks."

mission: cut one's losses

notes

Though Orion cups his hands around the glass of beer when it's handed to him, focusing on the strange sensation of damp against his metal hand, he does not yet take a sip. Tension is present in the stiffness of his shoulders, and he looks anywhere but at his Captain.

Finally, Tam breaks the silence, and Orion winces.

It sounded so vile, phrased like that.

No, he thinks, that isn't me.

"He was Rocket, sir." He takes a drink, now, if only to have something to do. His hand shakes a little, but his Rotom thankfully helps him maintain his grip until he sets the glass back down. It's a little too rough, accidental, liquid sloshing over the rim. "He's the one who..."

Not fueled by anger as he'd been before, Orion finds it harder to force the words. Kidnapped me. Cut off my arm. Changed my life. Instead, he makes a mute gesture toward his arm with a pained expression. Did all this.

mission: cut one's losses

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Orion expects Tam to doubt him. His lips part around an instinct to defend himself, to insist upon what he'd seen despite his certainty that he won't be believed. Slateport PD hadn't believed him, after all. The pity in their eyes had been the most unbearable part.

Tam, though... Tam doesn't doubt him, or even scold him beyond a warning that he should be more careful.

Orion closes his mouth, stunned into momentary silence.

"Yeah," he begrudgingly agrees, after a beat. "I didn't expect him to survive a z-move. Whatever he did..." Orion shakes his head, looking troubled. He doesn't know how to put into words the crystalline monster he'd witnessed. "I think he might be one of their avatars. I can't remember his name." Frustration knits his brow, knuckles white around the glass. "He did something to my head. Or one of them did. I can only remember bits and pieces."

His metal fingers curl tight against his palm.

"I'll never forget his face, though."

No matter how much he wishes that he could.

He grimaces as he meets the Captain's gaze. "Sorry you got dragged into all this. I'll say whatever I've gotta to keep you out; no reason for us both to lose our jobs."

mission: cut one's losses

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