It really was a disgusting place. Blood, sweat, and stale liquor bled into the dungeon’s grimy atmosphere which was a bit too humid for comfort. For how little Lex cared, she really did hate it here. She’d been coming long enough to become recognizable - her first mistake. Easy cash was hard to pass up, though.

Yumi stood out like a sore thumb in the riff raff that infected this establishment. It wasn’t her polished, well put together attire that drew the crowd’s gaze, but the fact that she was the only one in here sporting any sort of self respect and dignity.

Naturally, Lex’s gaze filtered over with the others’. Through her narrowed glare she carved out a sense of familiarity, “Yumi,” she was about the last person she expected to see down here. The fact she seemed to take an interest in her well-being, feigned or not, made her dark lips twitch in a half drunk smirk, “You were thinking about me? That’s sweet,” her eyes trailed over the woman’s shoulders, scanning the crowd for anyone she didn’t recognize - anyone that could be from Rocket.

“Hope you didn’t bring any friends.”

---

Yumi Hasegawa

“Gessh…” the name trailed into a whisper just like the memories in the back of her mind. She’d made it a habit to lock away anything and everything that reminded her of better times. Those were dangerous. Revenge couldn’t thrive where hope smothered hatred.

Lex’s gaze followed Yumi into the seat beside her, amber eyes flashing with more annoyance than welcome. She wanted to be left alone. Yumi’s familiar, yet judgemental, tone didn’t mix well with her short fuse. Tension gripped her jaw and she drew back, unintentionally creating space.

There was a better question to ask: What didn’t happen?

Lex didn’t marry Killian. She didn’t find him. She didn’t find closure in his disappearance, only grief. She didn’t play it smart. She let ghosts haunt her and rage poison her. She didn’t ask for help, instead she secluded herself, content in drowning in her own misery.

Despite it all, she rewards Yumi with a vague response, drawing her gaze from her old friend down to the fractured rocks glass occupying her fingers, “The unimaginable,” though really it was expected. Their line of work didn’t promise long lifespans. That didn’t change how severely it fractured her will to live, “He’s dead,” and with him, half of her. Her survival instinct now clung to something else, something far more toxic.

---

Yumi Hasegawa

Sorry doesn’t bring him back, neither does killing his murderer, but it sure as hell would make her feel better knowing that alien was no longer infected their world. She simply shrugged as a manner of saying ‘thank you’ for the condolences.

Her lips pulled down into a frown, a certain seriousness emphasizing her beliefs on the subject, “The dead don’t want, Yumi. They’re dead. It doesn't matter what they want,” she pointed towards her empty glass, signaling for a refill from the bartender, “Work is hard to come by when you’re not with Rocket. I do what I need to do,” there was a little more to it than that. Places like this were cathartic, smothering a little bit of the pent of rage so she didn’t do anything truly stupid.

“This morning,” she huffed, answering as if it was a stupid question. A dollar hotdog from the gas station counted, right? “And I’ll eat after this,” the bartender brought back her glass full and with fresh ice, “What, I don’t look good?” it was a bit of a sarcastic question. Lex knew well what sort of state she was in. The bottom line was, she didn’t care. Depression had extinguished any sort of self-respect and desire for progress.

“What brings you down here, Yumi?” she finally asked, her patience wearing thin. She wanted to get to the point, get it over with. She drew the glass towards her to sip from, “This place isn’t very . . . you ya know?”

---

Yumi Hasegawa

For her? Lex’s cold and distant boundaries made it impossible for her to truly believe it. No one cared that much, not for someone like her. It was even more unbelievable in her current state. Lex was sorely aware of her disparaged existence in this wide world. Why would Yumi have any interest in her.

The doubt was etched clearly in the hard lines of the former Beast’s sharp features. She remained silent for a moment, watching Yumi usher her up and out of her seat, demanding they get some real food.

Lex didn’t move. She remained firmly planted in her seat at the bar, one hand toying with the rim of her glass. The other tapped the metal sphere that housed her pokemon for tonight, “You’re jumping the gun there, Yumi,“ she finally rose from her seat but didn't follow her old friend, “You’re going to have to wait. I have a job to do,” she tossed the Luxuryball up in the air, catching it with the same hand, “Sit back, enjoy the show . . . it’ll be over quick.”

---

Yumi Hasegawa

Beneath the damaged exterior Lex is, at her core, a woman of her word . . . to an extent. She has certainly betrayed those that deserved it and abandoned her duties when it suited her best. So maybe she isn’t as noble as she believed. But this was something she wanted to do. It was a useful outlet that expelled some of the pent up rage inside. Without it, her actions would be far more destructive.

It stains the battle arena’s floor with dark blood and entrails. The Bisharp cuts through the trio of Mightyena without mercy. The opposing pokemon were destined for this, caught for this. Their demise was always meant to be bloody and unceremonious. There are times where it seemed the Bisharp was holding back, prolonging the degree of suffering for the sake of the crowd and by the command of his mistress.

Both the spectators and Lex seemed satisfied with the results. Still slick with blood, the Bisharp was returned and the woman disappeared back into the crowd. Lex would appear lighter, less tense when she finally returned to Yumi’s side. The bartender slid her a closed envelope that she tucked into the inside of her leather jacket. She didn’t ask for another drink.

“Lead the way, Yumi,” she smiled at her old friend, as if this was just another day and she didn’t just encourage her Bisharp to brutally mutilate three Mightyena for sport and entertainment.

---

Yumi Hasegawa

Yumi’s misplaced gratitude was met with a half smile, bordering sarcastic if studied closely enough in the shadows of the underground fight ring. Her amber gaze shot down to the patrolling pokemon as its master swiftly moved towards the exit. Lex allowed, in silence, keeping her head down and attention from meeting the wandering eyes that followed them out.

When they met the chill of the night air, the ex-beast threw her hood up to stave off the cold. She shoved her hands in her jacket pocket and a few longer steps brought her to Yumi’s side, “Hrmph,” was all she offered as a way to show her indifference for the chosen restaurant. Though deep down, authentic tastes of home would be greatly appreciated.

They walked in silence, though Lex’s eyes wandered attentively. The bustle of more people brought more opportunity for deceit. She felt like a girl on the run again, hiding from both demons that haunted her and the organization that once gave her shelter when she first came to Hoenn.

The hood remained up, even as they slid into the seat of the table the host led them to. It really was a hole-in-the-wall, a small unassuming place with a humble number of tables cramped into the small dining room.

“How’d you find this place?” a little small talk said a lot about her mood. Perhaps the result of finding some comfort in the familiar as she scanned the menu and breathed in the rich aromas of their native region.

---

Yumi Hasegawa