The moral of this story was that Pichu were pricks, Mesprit was a trespasser, and that the Red Chain was simply a form of restraining order. Luckily, Eris's commitment to the rules was what saved Mesprit from triggering the security alarm that Navy had installed in the condo.

If the sheriff was going to be working himself to the bone, the least he could do was leave the admin with some defense against Dewford's notorious population of cat burglars, led by a certain cat that constantly shouted 'Yar!'

"I'm coming, gimme a sec, fuck..." Howard yawned as he crossed the spacious condo towards the door. Unlike his old apartment, Howard could actually walk around without knocking something valuable over. "It's so early, mail's not due for another few hours..."

He opened the door and looked around for a moment, before looking down.

"Why? How?"

---

Eris Halla

Eris was right. Howard living above the poverty line was an affront to the world. A nightmare made manifest, it creeped out of the darkest dreams of man and into reality.

"Little lady, it is..." He checked his watch, his good eye squinting down at the archaic face. He must've been one of the only people in the region who still wore a watch. "Eight in the morning on a weekend. Is Dewford burning again?"

He peered out past Eris towards the serene ocean. No screaming, no burning, no gurgling screeches of Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki and her Nihilego. Definitely not burning.

His Yeggo Waffle stash did, though.

"I moved in... a week ago? Maybe two? Who told you I was here? Navy? Isaac Merlo?" Howard scratched his cheek as he pondered it. For a guy who knew every important date under the sun, he was awful at remembering his own life. "Doesn't matter, I guess. Come in. Want breakfast?"

For Pichu, it would likely be second, third, and fourth breakfast.

---

Eris Halla

"Eheheheh...." He scratched his cheek and looked away. "You could say that."

A look in the pantry would reveal that he did, in fact, not. On the contrary, scrolls and dusty books filled the pantry, allowing it to act as an extra bookshelf. A disturbingly small section was dedicated to Yeggo waffles, alcohol, and saltine crackers. Truly, this was the banquet of kings.

Pichu would feast, at least.

"I have enough for sandwiches, at least." He said sheepishly as he turned to look at Eris. The only difference between his former apartment in Rustboro and his new condo was the fact that the condo wasn't completely frowning in artifacts yet. Still, much of the same stuff from there was now here.

Still, the artifacts Howard collected looked to be in better shape than the man himself.

"I have... hm... peanut butter. Marshmallow fluff... Jelly..." He peered into his fridge. "Heck yeah, we're feasting today little lady!"

Poverty.

---

Eris Halla

The fact that Eris had expected nothing from Howard should've been a bigger hurt to his ego. Unfortunately, Howard's dignity had collapsed in on itself long ago. He was just scrambling to defend what little still existed.

Unfortunately, that didn't include defending it from the little lady unpacking her backpack.

"Eheheheheh..." Howard drooled as Eris revealed a large spread of lunchboxes, capable of feeding Howard for days, weeks, and months, and even years!

Likely just days.

"You really do care about me, little lady! You couldn't sit and let me starve, could you?"

His enthusiasm was infectious as he patted Eris on the head, cackling to himself about the food bill he wouldn't have to pay.

---

Eris Halla

If Eris didn't reinforce his behavior, it was very likely that Howard would starve. While teaching him that message was a good idea, it'd likely be a fatal mistake.

It was a Catch-22 of poor financial decisions that resulted in either Howard starving or Eris making his food.

As far as Howard was concerned, a win-win as long as his money was being spent on fossils and statues. Speaking of...

"I used my paycheck this month to buy a painting from a dead Kalosian painter!" His eye visibly sparkled with joy as he burned money before Eris's very eyes. "Want to see? It's a painting of a Metapod sitting in a forest! I'm no art expert, but I think it symbolizes..."

Aaaaand off he went. The history lesson began, and this time it was the mind-numbingly boring topic of art history.

---

Eris Halla

It was all fun and games until the Being of Emotion threw a temper tantrum.

Howard supposed that made sense. Fire being hot and water being wet and all that nonsense. Still, he thought that one of Sinnoh's Lake Guardians would've been far more composed and regal. What sort of powerful sprite started whining because a human started talking?

An emotional one, apparently.

"Which is why-"

"MES!!!"

"-the coloration is-"

"PRIIIIIT!!!"

"-so importa-"

"MESPRIIIIIIIIIIT!!!"

THUD. THUD. THUD. From the condo nearby, Howard heard the familiar sound of a broom banging on the walls. From his experience as a tenant, the admin immediately recognized it as a sound of a fellow tenant about to have a tantrum.

"SHUT THE FU-" Howard immediately clapped his hands over Eris's ears.

---

Eris Halla

"Nope! Zip it!" Howard was incapable of many things, but he could stop a little girl from moving his hands from her ears. "YOU!"

He glared daggers at the little shit cackling at him from its perch. If he had the opportunity, he was going to wrap Mesprit in a Red Chain and throw it off a cliff. It could laugh all the way down if that's what it wanted. Unfortunately, Howard owed the sprite a debt. He knew it. It knew it.

Thus, its mockeries were tolerated.

"Hey!" Howard was so surprised by Eris's claim that she had an opportunity to wiggle free from his hands. "I didn't swear! I'm a virtuous young man from Rustboro! I'm a criminal mastermind! Do you really think I'd swear? Ever?"

He gave her a look. They both knew the answer.

Yeah, he would.

---

Eris Halla