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Getting fresh ingredients was better than getting them from store. So here he was only his way to get some Moo-Moo milk and possibly some other ingredients as well. It would really depend on what this supplier was selling and for how much. He wished his Aunt had just offered the person a deal but she’d told him that if he wanted to run a business he needed to learn to make the deals him. Which he supposed she had a point.
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He hated when she was right. Letting out a sigh he continued on the path in front of him his stick clutched tightly in his left hand Venus bringing up the rear at his right shoulder. He knew if a wild Pokémon were to attack his Seperior would drive the Pokémon away so he wasn’t to worried. But he wasn’t sure if he would be good at negotiating a deal. He was only eighteen after all not to mention blind.
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Would the supplier he was going to check out even believe he was a chef? Venus nudged his shoulder rousing him out of his thoughts. His sharper hearing picked up someone’s voice but he wasn’t sure why that would interest the grass type. So she must have noticed something else. Probably something to do with the guy he had heard.
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Weighing his options he finally decided to make his way towards where he had heard the person. Perhaps the person needed help with something and that’s why Venus stopped him. He couldn’t turn his back on someone who needed help and Venus knew that. If she had stopped him he couldn’t be dangerous so he supposed he was fine interacting with the older male.
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”Excuse me, is something wrong? I believe Venus believes you’re in need of some help,” using his right hand to gesture vaguely towards his Serperior since his left hand was occupied with his cane.[break] Biscotti Kingsley

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[attr="class","bisc"]Biscotti turned to face Shinobu. For a second, he about had a heart attack, worried the farmers had snuck up on him. He wasn’t even sure what’d happen in a situation like this. If you couldn’t pay a restaurant bill, you washed dishes. But what happened if you lost someone’s livestock? Would he end up inseminating Miltalk or something? Could he go to jail for this?

Amber eyes took Shinobu in. Only now did he interpret his words. “Chill, Scotti. It’s just a blind kid.” Biscotti said to himself. Or, as it turned out to everybody. This only became clear when his Pokemon turned to glare at him. Someone smacked an elbow into his ribs. But—since it didn’t hurt—all it did was get his attention. His cheeks flared red. “Oh, Arceus! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I mean I’m dis—” He was pretty sure that word was banned somewhere by now. And, well, it wasn’t really what he meant. This kid made it all the way out here somehow. It felt wrong to imply he was helpless. ”--differently-abled too.” Not that the two were that similar.

Lifting a hand to the back of his head, Biscotti glances around him. A Mareep is taking advantage of the shallow woods nearby. Its mouth enjoying some weird new plant—probably something that’d make it sick. Nearby, a Tauros was racing up and down a Mudsdale’s pin. Its horns glowing and eyes intent on challenging the horse to open combat.

“Uh, well, I think I let all the farm animals out. I thought I closed the gate on my way out, but—” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I’m trying to get them back where they go, but it’s way harder than it looks.” It didn’t help that he looked as intimidating as a chocolate-covered, blow-dried Venonat. Most of these Pokemon were bigger than him to boot. “I don’t suppose you have anything scary on that belt of yours, huh?”

Or, at least, something charismatic. Heck, maybe he had a carrot or something. He’d tried baiting them earlier, but they didn’t seem big on Twizzlers and crumbled oat muffins.

shinobu fujimori

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Hearing his response he wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or not. He furrowed his brows, or brow since only one brow was visible, in confusion. Of course he had no way of knowing that the older male had at first thought he was the farmer. Or that the older male had let out a bunch of farm animals. If it wasn’t for Venus he probably wouldn’t have noticed that anyone was nearby.
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”Don’t worry about it I didn’t take offense,” he told the brunette, deciding not to tell him that that he hadn’t been sure what to make oh his comment. He had never heard of it described like that before but he decided not to give it too much thought. ”What do you mean about that?” he asked curiously before speaking before he could say anything. ”If you don’t mind that is.”
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He took in what he was saying and frowned. ”Well that doesn’t sound good. I can help you out if you want. I’m sure if we work together we could get them back before the farmer notices,” he said shooting the older a reassuring smile. Hopefully it wouldn’t be to hard with the both of them.
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Hearing his question he gestured towards Venus at his side. ”I have Venus, a hard glare from her should get them intimidated. A glare from serperior can halt its opponent’s movements, so it should work for something like this,” he explained before allowing his hand to drift to Hades pokeball.
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”I also have a Zweilous in case that doesn’t work. Don’t worry he’s pretty docile so he would just intimidate them not try to attack,” he explained keeping his hand on Hades pokeball while he used his other hand to hold his cane.[break] Biscotti Kingsley

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Biscotti lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank, Arceus.” Those two simple words are his response, followed by an awkward smile.

“Cannolli says my mouth’s faster than my head sometimes.” Not that he was quoting verbatim. Usually, that comment was punctuated with a flip-flop to the head and sounded like some predatory bird’s shriek.

At the question, Biscotti shrugged. If this kid could walk around with a disability on full display and be so chill about it, there was no reason he shouldn’t share too. Especially after he referred to him as just some blind guy. “I’ve got CPI.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a set of keys. “I can’t feel pain. Pressure and heat, sure. But it never actually hurts.” Right before he asked him to watch, Scotti caught himself. “It’s not as cool as it sounds.” People told him they were jealous all the time.

They really shouldn’t be. Pain existed for a reason. Mostly to stop people from walking around with gaping wounds. “I can’t smell much either. The two tend to go hand and hand.” Though why that was nobody had ever been able to tell him.

“Thanks, man! I appreciate it!” Biscotti piped up appreciatively. His eyes drifted toward the barn. “That guy would shank me with a pitchfork if he found out.” The thought that none of this was his fault didn’t even occur to him. And, it probably wouldn’t be until long after he got home. At the talk of the snake, Scotti turned to her. “Isn’t that where the Medusa came from? I think her eyes are pretty, but I’m not exactly—” He tried to imagine himself as a little mouse beneath that gaze. “--a cow.”


At the talk of the Zweilous, the elder boy nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He pointed to a nearby group of Mareep. “Want to try it with these guys first?” The Pokemon at his side allowed their fur to bristle as he approached. “Their paddock’s right there.”


Hopefully, he didn’t end up putting anyone in the wrong spot. That kind of magic trick would take Old McDonald for a loop.

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He didn’t know who Cannolli was but he could understand his mouth being faster than his mouth. Or sometimes it seemed like his brain took a vacation. ”I can understand that I can get easily flustered, usually when receiving a compliment. I just sometimes don’t know how to react to a compliment,” he admitted a bit awkwardly.
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The teen listened to what the older male had to say and frowned. It sounded like something that was quite dangerous. ”Is it hereditary?” he asked curiously. It seemed like something someone was born with. Though he supposed it someone damaged their nerves in a certain way he supposed they could lose the ability to feel pain. Though considering the fact that he was no doctor he didn’t know how that kind of stuff worked.
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”Don’t worry I’m not real keen on the idea of not feeling pain. It would be like not having the ability to feel fear. Both are essential for survival,” he pointed out with a shrug. Listening to what he had to say he couldn’t help but find it strange. ”It’s weird that those two things would be connected.”
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He had always thought that it was taste and smell that were connected. But he supposed it wasn’t as connected as he thought. ”No problem,” he said deciding to worry about the older males condition at a later date. Hearing what he had to say he quirked a brow before shrugging.
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If he remembered correctly Medusa was from some kind of mythology. But he didn’t know for sure. ”Thats mythology stuff isn’t it?” he inquired before shaking his head as he decided it didn’t really matter. ”Anyway I feel she could help us out. Her stare can be quite intimidating,” he said cheerfully.
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Seemed like he was on board with the plan. So he released Hades from his pokeball. ”Venus I want you to use your glare on these Mareep to scare them back into their pen. Hades hang back if Venus isn’t enough to get them into the pen step in,” he said as he moved towards the Mareep with Venus moving just ahead of him her glare already in place as she faced the Mareep.[break] Biscotti Kingsley

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The ginger boy’s admission made Scotti grin. It was nice not to be the only guy with his foot in his mouth. Though his stuff went waaay beyond compliments. Just a week ago he’d talked about a princess’s hoo-hah to her face. But that probably wouldn’t get this relationship off on the right foot. “Join the club.”

He chuckled. “A lady told me she loved my cakes yesterday.” The brunette sighed as Jangle snorted. “I couldn’t think of jack to say, so I just said ‘You too.’” The woman took it pretty well, though he could tell she was a little weirded out. And, unfortunately, the stuff he tacked on didn’t do anything to fix it. Giving up, he just wished the patron a nice day and ran off to lunch.

Man, he didn’t know a lot about medicine, but he knew a ton about this one, specific disorder. “Kinda?” He scratched idly at his nose—feeling like he was awkwardly still. Though he realized that didn’t really matter in this case. It wasn’t like this guy could see it. “Mum and dad have the gene, but ZERO symptoms.” The young man took a deep breath. “Then, lucky guys like me end up with BOTH messed up copies.” Up went his shoulders in a shrug. “It could be worse though.” He and his Runerigus could get around it pretty well. Even if it’d taken years for them to get to that point.

Luckily, this ginger kid wasn’t dripping with envy. A lot of people just thought of the bad side of pain. The stuff that actually hurt. But they forgot that those same feelings stopped them from turning a hand in a flame into a burnt marshmallow. “You’re a guy with common sense.” The parallel between pain and fear made him ponder for a minute. “I still have plenty of that at least.” Right now, he was worried he’d get the Triton treatment from the farmer.

“Yeah. It’s kind of like redheads and anesthesia. A weird genetic connection nobody gets.” A shitty lottery he wished he could share his prizes with. He’d give them some pain-deadening, and he’d take a few points off their schnoz-o-meter. Sadly, that kind of stuff couldn’t be bartered with. Everybody preferred dealing in cold-hard cash. Which he didn’t have much of either. Most of it went to student loans.

The talk of mythology drew a brunette brow up. Why the heck would he name a Pokemon off of something he didn’t get? His squad—with the exception of grandma—was named after comic book noises. “Yeah. She turns guys to stone by looking at them. Reminds me of my mother.” Which, knowing her, one flip-flop would be enough to get these errant animals in line.

The sheep turned as the snake approached. A few of them bleated uncertainly, drawing together until their sparky wool began to crackle. Slowly, but surely, they started backing toward the pen. “Looks like that’s doing the trick, pal! You’re a lifesaver!” Biscotti gestured Jangle forward. The Incineroar’s belly flared with red hot flames as she continued pressing the farm animals toward the pen.

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"If that were an actual club, I feel like there would be a good number of members," he said with a chuckle. It wasn't uncommon for people to be a bit socially awkward, though he wouldn't say he himself was socially awkward, at least not in normal circumstances. Compliments, especially of the flirtatious variety, usually had him stumbling over his words and sometimes mixing them up as well.
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Hearing his comment, he chuckled. "Sounds like something I would do. That or I would fumble my words," he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "My aunt thinks it's really funny. Though I must admit, I've gotten more used to compliments about my food," he explained, his expression thoughtful.
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"I think the worst time was when I was first starting to learn to cook. I accidentally called my friend's mom 'mom' when she asked me if I had thought of pursuing cooking as a career. I panicked and said 'yes, mom' instead of 'yes, ma'am.' That was really embarrassing, but she understood it was an accident," he told him with a small, amused smile. It could have been worse. He could have said that to a complete stranger.
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Listening to what he had to say, he nodded. The older teen didn't have to explain what worse would be; he knew what it would entail. Unbidden, his sister came to mind, and he mentally shook himself to clear his thoughts. It had been three years, but he still struggled with what had happened. Knowing it was coming had made things worse, in his opinion.
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"That's a shame. I couldn't imagine what that's like," he told him. Sometimes life was just too cruel, like someone being born with an incurable disease. Though, if you asked him, the way the world was, someone suffered one way or another. No one was free from suffering, but that was just his opinion.
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As the older teen spoke about common sense, he couldn't help but wince. "About some things," he said with a sigh. "Of course, if I was always using common sense, I would have worn a helmet when playing baseball. That's why I'm blind; I got hit in the head with a baseball. Not that I remember much about that. The last thing I remember was agreeing to play a game of baseball. Though the doctors said a bit of memory loss was common with a head injury."
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His correlation between redheads and anesthesia had confused him, but he had nodded absently before he told him about the reason he was blind. It wasn't something he cared to think about too much. Being blind wasn't something he cared about. What got him was how careless he had been. But then again, none of them had ever thought to wear helmets since it was only supposed to be a friendly game among friends.
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Deciding not to think too much about it, he moved on with the conversation. He listened to his explanation about the name and nodded. 'Seriously, the things people come up with.'
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He had nothing more to say about the name, but luckily the conversation moved on. Hearing that Venus was succeeding, he couldn't help but smile. "She's good at getting people and Pokémon to do as they're told. I have her guard the front of my restaurant. It keeps people from trying anything," he explained, his face turned towards where he knew the Serperior was.
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It was clear from the way he spoke that he was quite proud of Venus. She had been his first Pokémon, and due to that, he would always favor her a bit more than he did his other Pokémon.[break] Biscotti Kingsley

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette grinned, again, awkwardly. “Well, uh, it’d take them a while to get it going. And the charter would be a total mess.” At least it would be if he wrote it. Some introverts were top-notch with the written language. They could make poetry out of rubber bands and bubble gum. Scotti’s prose was full of voice and flavor. Unfortunately, it was his. Knowing the other guy was awkward made him a heck of a lot more comfortable. “I mean it’s good to make people laugh.”

It almost made his awkwardness worthwhile. Or, at least, it made it less annoying. “I mean you have to one day, right?” Not that he’d know. It wasn’t like he got complimented a lot. He was just a B-rank Biscotti. At the story, the baker managed to hold back a giggle-snort (barely). “That’s nothing, man. I call Cannoli's mom at least once a week.” Which wasn’t super embarrassing anymore. At some point, he managed to make it sound sarcastic. So, she took it as a joke.

Biscotti shook his head. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.” He smiled, a bit sorrowfully. “I’m just glad I won the genetic lottery instead of someone else.” Heck, with thirteen kids, his mom and dad were guaranteed at least one dud. And, to the brunette, it was best that it was him. The other ones were on their way to being business people and politicians. He just was. Though Scotti did know that wasn’t how genetics work, the feeling remained. “It’s no fun though, that’s for sure.” Talk about living in a bubble.

That story was something else. Just the visceralness of it was enough to make Scotti wince. “Yowch.” He offered up a sympathetic smile, and then remembered that Shinobu couldn’t see it. Maybe he needed real-life closed captioning or something. “One reason I stick to golf.” Still, he figured something like that could happen with any sport. Maybe he’d take those helmet ads more seriously next time he got on a bike. If a baseball could make you blind, he shuddered to think what a car could do. An awkward pause follows. “Maybe they’ll be able to fix it one day. Your sight.” They were always coming up with crazy things and crazier ways to fix those things.

“Venus—” He thinks that’s the Serperior. “--seems like he’s got her stuff together.” Just as he comments on that, another few Pokemon are corralled into place. A hand is reached for Shinobu’s. “We should probably help her out!” Maybe they’d be a little more pliable now that the snake had done its business.

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As he spoke of a charter, he nodded. "Fair enough, not that it would matter to me," he pointed out with a grin. "Though then again, I could use all of us just sitting in a room and not talking. Now that I think about it, we all probably have trouble figuring out what we should talk about."
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To be honest, despite being a bit on the socially awkward side, he had no problem conversing with others. It probably had something to do with running a restaurant. Being the owner of a restaurant, he had to have a certain level of social skills. Social skills that sometimes made him seem somewhat formal at times. Not that there weren't times he still messed up when it came to conversing in his restaurant.
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"I suppose so," he agreed when Biscotti pointed out it was a good way to make people laugh. Though he would rather not be the reason people laughed. That usually only made him feel even more embarrassed and left him even more flustered.
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Yes, he supposed that was true. But outside of his cooking getting complimented, getting complimented just caused him to become flustered. Sure, he still turned red as a tomato when someone complimented his cooking, but at least he had no trouble stringing a sentence together or making his words articulate.
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He wasn't sure who he was talking about but still nodded. "I suppose someone has at least done something like that. I think I was only so embarrassed because I had a strained relationship with my mother. Both of my parents actually. Not because they were necessarily bad parents, but because they expected a lot from me and then decided to become overbearingly protective when I was fourteen."
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He understood it, he did. His sister had cancer and was nearing her end. It had changed something about his parents. He couldn't go two steps without running into his parents. One of them asking if he was feeling okay or wanting to get him checked out at a hospital to make sure nothing was inherently wrong with him.
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If it were him, he wasn't sure he would be able to be as laid back about it. But then again, there was that one kid who seemed to struggle with his own health issues he had been born with. He had seemed to be just as resigned to the way things were as Biscotti seemed to be. In a way, it showed just how strong of a character such people had.
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"That's good, though I'm not sure if I would be able to be as accepting as you. Was there ever a time you just felt bitter about it all?" he asked curiously. Surely there had been such a time. Even if it had only been when he was a kid. When he hadn't been able to be like a normal kid.
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Deciding to move on, he decided to enlighten him on how his own condition had come to be. "Yeah, it hurt alright. I think I would've taken it better to being suddenly blind if it wasn't for the headache in the few weeks that followed," he said with a sigh. He had never been sure why, but he had always hated headaches, even before he had lost his vision.
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His mentioning of them being able to one day correct his vision made him frown. "Hmmm maybe, it's my brain that's the problem, not my eyes after all," he told him. It was clear he wasn't too keen on the idea. "I'm used to it at this point, not to mention that I didn't learn to cook until after I became blind. Getting my sight back would mean having to learn a new way of doing things."
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Shaking himself, he returned his focus to the task at hand. "Yeah, Venus is really good about that," he said with a note of pride in his tone. He would allow Biscotti to take his hand so the older male could take him over to Venus so they could finish corralling the farmers' Pokémon.[break] Biscotti Kingsley

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[attr="class","bisc"]At the talk of sitting in rooms with nothing to say, Biscotti flushes. “That’s better than saying the wrong thing.” As it has for a while now, his mind travels back to a cave out by Lavaridge. Sure he’d suffered a pretty bad gouge in the leg, but it was what he’d said that haunted him. Staring down the Crown Princess, he asked if riding a Rhyhorn would hurt her hoohah. “Trust me.”

The talk of strained relationships made him wince. Honestly, he had no idea what to say to that. Sure, his dad had gone missing, but there wasn’t really any awkwardness there. His mom still called to check in on him all the time. And, if something went wrong, she was the first person he called. Shit. What do I say? I’m sorry. Luckily, the conversation rebounded to parental protectiveness, Biscotti laughed. “Mine wanted to put me in a bubble.” Which sounded ridiculous until you knew why.

The brunette shrugged. “I’m not a bitter guy.” He grinned. “I blame the sugar.” Sure, he’d been annoyed, but he was a parable. Witha bit of hesitation, he admitted as much. “It doesn’t help that they were usually right.” They’d tell him not to go hiking alone, and he’d come back dragging a broken leg. And, now, he was free of their influence. Or, at least, an ocean-and-a-half away from it.

Biscotti winced. Sure, he only understood pain by proxy, but he could understand that some stuff sucked. “That sounds like a pain in the ass, bud.” Which, hah, he didn’t know much about either. “They’re gone now, right The headaches?” Personally, he doubted he’d take blindness too well. He tripped over stuff now, and he could totally see it. His feet just lagged behind.

The brunette nodded. “Could always go the Pokemon route.” With the help of Bubbe, he could understand what pain was like. But the whole being possessed by a murderous grandma thing wasn’t for everyone. Then, came the question of relearning. “That does sound like a lot of trouble.” He grinned. “This way, you can pretend everyone’s hot or, uh—” What should he say here to not sound like a perv? “--purple.”

Taking Shinobu’s hand, Biscotti ran after the grass type. His own Pokemon joined in as the sea of freed farm animals began to flow in their direction. His cheeks flared red as he felt the hand in his. Which, kind of made him glad the guy was blind. Two straggling Mareep trotted in front of them, signaling the end of the parade.

With a grunt, his Incineroar hoisted two Mudbray under her arms. These she dropped on the other side of the fence with a fiery snort. “Not too much left!” Biscotti’s voice filled with gratitude. “You’re a lifesaver, man!”

Meanwhile, the real culprit watched from the shadow of the barn. If two boneheaded kids wanted to clean up his mess, that was on them.

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"Oh, I’ve done that too,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever told someone they had a face before. In my defense, I was fifteen and was meeting a singer I was a fan of. I also might have had a bit of a crush, so as nervous as I was, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my mind, which was supposed to be that he had a pretty face and not just that he had a face. It probably made it worse when I kept talking, trying to explain how I knew he actually did have a face. My sister found the whole thing really funny.”
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It was kind of bittersweet thinking back on memories of his sister. His relationship with his sister had been vastly better than the one with his parents, something that was probably pretty obvious when he mentioned them. “My parents never did that, but after my sisters passing, they became well...” he trailed off a bit awkwardly before continuing. “Let’s just say I felt I couldn’t go two steps without running into one of them; it was like they became clingy or something.”
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Eventually he hadn’t been able to deal with it, so he had run. Of course he had used the excuse of returning to the gym circuit, but anyone with working eyes would’ve been able to tell that was only the half of it.
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“Usually I’m not either,” he commented when the other mentioned not being a bitter guy. “I admit I didn’t take being blind well, but now I realize it wasn’t about being blind. I had just lost my sister a few weeks before that and had immediately jumped into things to distract myself. After losing my sight, some of the things I had done to distract myself with I could no longer do. I still wasn’t ready to deal with all that, so I placed my misplaced anger towards the fact I had become blind instead of at the real reason,” he admitted.
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It hadn’t been one of his finer moments. His blindness had just been something for him to direct his anger towards so he didn’t have to deal with the emotions surrounding his sister's passing. Of course, after he had started to receive cooking lessons, he had calmed down.
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At the question, he nodded. “Yes, the headaches were caused by the concussion I had. That’s long since healed, so no more headaches. Well, I mean, I still get headaches like anyone else, but not like I did when I had my concussion,” he reassured the older male.
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He supposed that was true. A good psychic type would probably help with that. “I would have to be a good psychic type,” he pointed out. Maybe one with telepathy.
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Listening to what he had to say, he was a bit confused. “I suppose so; really, as long as someone has a great personality, I could care less what they look like.”
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Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. Sure, it was true when it came to friendship, but not if it was something more than friendship. For that, the person would have to be a guy.
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As distracted as he was thinking of personalities versus appearance, he wasn’t aware of Biscotti moving until he grabbed his hand. His face heating up slightly, he didn’t resist allowing the other to tug him along.
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“No problem,” he said, managing to regain his composure as he continued to allow the other to tug him along.
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Venus, for her part, was making sure to keep the ones she was herding grouped together.[break] Biscotti Kingsley

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