“Unfortunately so,” Grigori agreed. At least this person didn’t directly tell him off for what he said. Perhaps she texted someone underneath the table, and he’d arrive home to someone like Zev Harcourt , who would stomp him out as simply as he did a lightbulb. Perhaps ironically, only time would tell as to what would happen after this day.

Yet as the silence wore on for a few more seconds, realization physically dawned on his face. It was followed by a faint blush of red. He let out a sigh to soothe the soul, “I… apologize, miss.”

“To speak about myself for a moment, I came here to try and escape the troubles of life. Only to drag them to you instead,” he admitted. The hope that he could simply enjoy a night to himself, crushed by his own hand. “It's only now that I realize this. This was not my intention, but that ultimately means little.”

Ultimately, this was not the absolutely worst thing to happen to either of them. At most, he likely ruined the last couple of minutes for them. But it still left a sour taste in his mouth, one that the last dregs of his root beer couldn’t wash down. Not even the apology eased his peace of mind.

“This would be the part where I offer to pay for your dinner, but I saw you take care of that already,” he said. That didn’t leave much for him to do other than a favor. A prospect he hesitated to even hint at– favors in this line of business usually lead to violence and bloodshed.

“Maybe… we should start with names. Since we forgot those. Mine is Grigori.”

---

Lulu Flint

“Ms. Lulu, nothing as important or esteemed as you, I’m afraid,” Grigori relaxed back into the comfortable chair. No wonder she had such detailed and elaborate thoughts on their conversation topic prior: she was one of the spearheads in the field. He was in the presence of an educated scientist. A twinge of regret stung his heart, yet it passed as quickly as it went.

Perhaps, in another universe, he was just as illustrious. But not this one.

“Just a grunt. I suppose someone has to do the dirty work,” he said. “Might as well be the one who has done it for…”

He joined at the ripe age of sixteen, around a month after that one fight. That would place it at January of the next year… which was… Arceus. A shudder shook his body. “A touch over thirty years.”

His shoulders slumped, “I never thought it would sound as… depressing. Never felt as bad when I thought it in my head.”

The grunt shook his head slightly and forced himself back upright. He could not let the conversation get as dismal as it had been a minute or two prior. This was supposed to be a relaxing night, not a dreary one. “But no matter. Everyone has their part, their song and dance. Has your research gone relatively smooth, all things considered?”

---

Lulu Flint

Despite the laughter, Grigori’s heart only sank further as she relayed the terrible news. “I see… I can not disagree with you there. That would not allow for a generally pleasant time…”

Arceus be damned, it seemed neither of them were capable of good tidings this dark weeknight. Maybe it was the general vibe, or perhaps how they initially started their conversation. It could very well be that today was simply not a good day for either of them. Regardless, it felt like a boulder upon his mental psyche.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try one last time. One last monumental effort to clear up this abysmal atmosphere. Even if it was exclusive to the two currently sat at this table, it was better to try than to throw up his arms and call it quits.

“At least we are all aware of the problems. We’re in it together, regardless of affiliation,” Grigori said brightly. “We can… watch each other's backs, and share our experiences in solidarity. That means something to me, even if only a little.”

---

Lulu Flint

Grigori pulled out and set his own card on the table. He took her business card and gave it a quick lookover. Monday Amsel? He wondered if she intentionally chose the name or if the way it sounded was entirely coincidental. Either way, he put the business card away and nodded to her.

“And you as well. You’ll be the first name I think of if the need arises.”

Unfortunately, it would likely not. That incident was done and gone, and almost everything to say about it has been done so already. He’d given his side of the story to Howard, and that had been published ages ago. There was little left to discover, and even less to discuss what occurred that specific night.

But… she was right, in a way. This would have a lasting impact on the region as a whole, whether they liked it not. Either they were real and back, or fake and a new problem emerged from the dream mist. Neither were great things to have on the horizon.Maybe they could talk about that, though. Or something else.

That’d be nice.

---

Lulu Flint