Small though it was, the ranch does boast at least two other staff who were happy to step in when Orion's duties as a ranger kept him away from the property. Today, though, it's just the man and his Pokémon to deal with the damage done to the pastures in the aftermath of a storm. Blessedly, most of ranch's denizens were too lazy to capitalize on the broken down fence near the trailhead, save for one particularly stubborn Gogoat.

"Capella," Orion scolds, receiving only a stubborn bleat in return. "Don't make me chase you down the entire trail!"

He's more relaxed here than he would be in any social setting, sat astride a Girafarig that trots out toward the trail. His Absol, ordinarily reluctant to divorce itself from his side, runs out ahead of the stubborn goat in an attempt to cut off her escape. It's as amusing a sight as it is unusual, the somber disaster Pokémon planting his paws in the ground like a common Rockruff and letting out a sharp bark to warn the Gogoat back.

But it's not the Absol who halts Capella's progress, in the end. It's a Rapidash. The flames and heat given off by the equine Pokémon seem to spook Capella in ways that Altair's presence had not, and the Gogoat huffs before dropping back to seek Orion's protection.

"I'm sorry about her." The sun's in his eyes, at first, and he doesn't recognize the woman astride her Rapidash until he lifts his flesh-and-blood arm as a shield. The reins are gripped confidently in his left, metal hand. "Oh! Ah, hello, Miss Wells." He laughs, the sound soft and edged with his usual discomfort. "There was a storm," he explains, please don't think I'm incompetent, "so Altair and I are just rounding up the stragglers."

Orion's laughter is soft, strained with telltale society anxiety.

"I do, yeah. Don't worry, the trails are public." The fences were meant to keep his Pokémon from wandering into the trails and disturbing those who sought to walk or ride them. "Guess I should put up signs in case this happens again, though."

The Ranch was new to him, purchased less than a year ago for a good price when its ailing caretaker had finally opted for retirement. The buildings themselves were old, weather-worn and in need of renovations. But they were his, a project into which he could direct his time and energy in some attempt to heal from the trauma Rocket have put him through.

Capella, seeming to relax with the knowledge that the Rapidash had no intention to pursue, flops down in the grass with a muted mehh. On closer inspection, the Gogoat is nearly as old as the Ranch, patches of grey showing through her brown hide.

"Do you ride often?"

Girafarig had been a deliberate choice, for Orion — the awareness from its tail allowed him to feel more at ease, with no need to glance over his shoulder in constant worry of a Rocket ambush.

A surprisingly genuine laugh follows an empathetic grimace. "That's how it was when I was on the Council," he admits. It's not often he talks about before, but he feels at ease around @nikita. "No end to the work. But at least you're able to get out today."

It was a lovely day for it, the sun bright and warm to soothe the earth after the recent storm. Hoenn's heat was too much for some, but as a Lilycove native it only felt right to Orion.

Of course, that heat led to a mighty thirst, and so after a brief pause the ranger turns his Girafarig toward home. His own attention remains fixed on Nikita, however, and he offers, "If you and Rapidash want something to cool off, you're welcome to stop by the Ranch. I'm the only one working today." So there was no risk of strangers setting anyone off. "Capella's the liveliest of my lot despite her age," or maybe because of it, "so there shouldn't be any more spooks."

Mehh, the Gogoat insists, getting to her hooves when Altair nudges her gently with his horn.

Sensing the potential for discomfort, an unwillingness to intrude, he insists, "It wouldn't be any trouble."

Aside from a few ordinary ranch livestock he'd inherited from the previous owner, several of the Pokémon taking advantage of the grazing fields are an unusual sight. Rather than Miltank, an ornery Camerupt chuffs at them as they pass, YAWNING. A Honchkrow ROOSTS in the branches of a sprawling tree.

"I've always wanted one, but I never had the money." Being a Ranger paid decent enough, but he'd been disowned by a wealthy family and forced to make his own way in life. Keeping up with his place in Fortree and caring for all his Pokémon had kept his bank account all but empty. Then came the Council position. "Then when I was on the Council, I didn't have the time."

Now he had the time and the money to spare, and a need for a distraction besides. He doesn't feel the need to say as much to @nikita, trusting that she understands.

He dismounts from Merope as they draw up close to the house, a wooden ranch-style building with a covered porch upon which his ESPEON rests. She perks her head up in greeting as they pass on the way to the barn, letting out a lazy meow and stretching out her paws.

The barn itself is fairly empty, set up to accommodate his lone Girafarig as well as the Camerupt and Skiddo when the weather took a turn. Merope doesn't seem to mind the intrusion upon her space, even if her tail makes strange sounds as the Long Neck Pokémon bends her head to drink.

"Your Rapidash will be safe here," Orion assures Nikita. "Delphi keeps watch."

Delphi seems to be the name of the ESPEON, for Orion gestures in the vague direction of the porch.

"You want the truth?" There's no bitterness in Orion's tone, not like there would've been if someone else had ventured to call this a realisation of dreams. @nikita understands, he tells himself. He'd seen it in her eyes. "I needed a distraction."

The door opens with slight protest; he still has to fix the hinges. There's a lot he still has to do.

The kitchen is well-stocked, at least, coffee and tea and farm-fresh produce in the fridge. What products didn't come from his own Pokemon he sourced from the farms nearby, the quiet countryside of Verdanturf fostering a certain sense of community. They'd accepted him into their number without fuss, and for that he was grateful. Even if he couldn't express it.

"Help yourself," is encouraged, and then, after a hesitant pause, "I lost my job, for a while. Bought the Ranch because it was driving me mad having nothing to do." He'd had only a weekly appointment with his therapist to mark the days, and it certainly hadn't been something to look forward to. Yet she'd been the one to suggest the Ranch, in the end, so he owed her that much. "It's been good for that, I think. It's kept me busy." Even if he had to work harder than his neighbours on account of the prosthetic, that hard work only incentivized him more.

Curious, and emboldened by the fact she'd asked a question of her own, he wonders, "What would you do, if you could retire?"

The Ranch is the safest of his vices, and the only one that doesn't run the risk of getting him fired. Picking a fight with any suspected Rocket who looked at him sideways and drinking a little too much had also become part of the routine, but he leaves those shameful admissions out of an otherwise pleasant conversation. She doesn't need to know he's a disaster.

Well, not more than he'd let on himself by admitting he'd lost his job, anyway.

Noting the honey, he says, "Oh, that's from one of the neighbors who keep Combee. It's really good." He seems more comfortable talking of Pokémon than people. "Something to do with their Sweet Scent." If only everyone treated their Pokémon with the reverence and kindness that some of the farmers around here did, they wouldn't have need of the Rangers.

Sipping at a glass of water sweetened with the juice of a Nomel berry, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as she admits to a love of riding as a girl. It takes on a sadder note as she gestures with her prosthetic.

"I imagine you still could." It would take a lot of practice and dedication, but so would anything either of them tried to do. They had to work harder than others to achieve what had once been taken for granted. With a twitch of his lip, he says, "I've been training at the gym, to try and get my strength back. I used to be able to run any mission they threw at me, but I'm on light duty for now." There's a wistfulness to his words, but at least he doesn't sound angry.

Orion seems quietly delighted by her reaction to the snack, a sparkle kindling in his ordinarily dour gaze. That she'd made the second bowl for him hadn't registered until she nudges it closer — he's not used to company, but he doesn't seem to mind as he realises.

"Oh, thank you."

He hadn't realised how hungry he was until the yogurt touches his tongue, mouth watering from the sweetness. He's been working all day, a one-track-mind set only on his goals and not on bodily functions.

"Maybe not trophies," he affords, for that was ambitious, "but maybe for fun? Except the issue of time, I suppose." He grimaces sympathetically. "There's never enough of it, and less with the meteor." It was stressful to put his faith in the League to stop the meteor when they hadn't even been able to rescue him from Rocket.

He actually manages a soft laugh at the apology, looking a little sheepish but not upset.

"No, don't worry. I get that from my therapist all the time. I'm taking it easy." He's on lighter duties as a ranger and he's nowhere near able to handle the weight he used to at the gym. But doing something felt better than not trying at all. "Just eager to get back to work, and all. I've been a ranger my whole life." He'd thought, however briefly, that he might have to give that up. There'd never been a lower point in his life than that, not even when Chu-e Choi had taken his arm to begin with. "But I have help here for the bad days, and the squad still treat me with kid gloves."

It's as annoying as it is endearing.