okay, whoever the fuck this guy thinks he's fooling, it's definitely not parker, but his not-so-secret secret is safe with her for sure. 

ceruledge is taking some time off at the daycare because, quite honestly, she doesn't know what else to do with him. a lot of her rocket pokemon are like that. they get too cooped up in their pokeballs. most of them are savage. 

ceruledge is no exception, but its human likeness has lefter he feeling...kind of bad for not taking better care of it. it keeps mostly to itself, but when it notices the arcanine and its mustachioed master, its eyes twinkle curiously and it saunters over, arms ablaze. 

Gwyar Wledig

☉

it, decidedly, likes this one and his strange accent. the fire pokemon's tongue lolls out of her mouth and ceruledge watches it with great interest. blue embers spark off of his armor and he looks her up and down, then back at the man. 

slowly, tentatively, cautiously, he cocks his own head and reaches with his fiery blades towards the man's bushy mustache. 

"AYO," parker calls, abandoning the scrabble game on her phone for the moment (Naomi Sato always wins because she tries her best to put words like 'butt' and 'fart' and nomi actually plays), and ceruledge draws back.

"we're trying to teach him manners today. i think. i dunno. sorry."

Gwyar Wledig

☉

"isn't nikita a chick's name?" she boned a girl once named nikita. lovely broad. bit of a pillow princess. parker hadn't had to shake that one off. she moved away when hoenn started going all bananas. y'know, like a sane person does. 

not like herself and mr nikita here. 

"yeah, but he's manageable," she says and punches the ceruledge on its pauldrons. it gives her a withering look in kind and drops down to its knees so it can blow flames out of its helmet for the doggie. 

"is your mustache real? i don't think i've ever seen anyone twirl their mustache in real life."

Gwyar Wledig

☉

oh, toit. so kinda like charlie. or seth. okay, maybe not seth, but she did know a seth too. that one didn't move away. that one moved closer. too close. parker lives on the other side of slateport now. er, for now, at least. soon she'll be looking at dream houses. 

which is still kinda surreal to think about. 

touche, mr mustache. ask a question, get a question, but she wishes he hadn't. it's not like she can say, oh that's my callsign. my codename. when i was sixteen, i thought it'd make me look tough if my contacts knew my name is SIX and that's all they saw while i pulled them real close to me and beat the shit out of their faces. 

"six is my lucky number."

she thunks ceruledge on the head. 

"welllll, enjoy your stay in slateport. we oughta get outta your hair. hah, get it? 'cause of your totally real, super bushy mustache."

Gwyar Wledig

☉

and now she's fucked if he really is league and meets her on the field. oh well. it's unlikely that out of the thousands of people who populate the region, she'll happen to run into him the next time some batshit hits the fan. 

"sure, mr moustache," she says, completely missing the fact that she'd misspoken because her writer is an idiot. 

cerludge follows dutifully behind her, waving at the puppy as they go.

Gwyar Wledig

☉