when she had met elisabeth, she had thought cassidy's talents were wasted on the likes of poaching. poaching was a quick job, only meant for the lowest of grunts to make easy money. but it was still a crime, and to cassidy: an art form, to some degree. and she would do it skillfully, as she had always done.

lilycove's abundant tourists made for easy targets, especially if they had already had some alcohol to drink. lowered inhibitions and guard, she found her chance at a stray bar. her target was a patron that was particularly lively, and while they were arguing with the bartender over the tab, she'd filched the pokeball on a pass by, using the distraction to flip the smooth ball into her bag. her practiced hands and confidence made it a quick job, unnoticed and untraceable.

she leaves the scene of the crime quickly. now outside, shrouded in darkness and under the cover of the moon, she sneaks through the streets and alleyways until she's in a rather isolated part of the city. alone, cassidy taps the button of a ball, letting the pokemon materialize in front of her with a bright flash of red light.

it's a cubone.

she looks down on it with a blank face, though it was obvious that she was not happy. it wasn't a valuable nor strong pokemon, so it wouldn't fetch much money in the black market. what a shame. the cubone looks around with anxious eyes at a place so unfamiliar, its trainer not in sight. and then it begins to cry, looking frantically for an out. but cassidy had settled them in a dead end, with her and her ninetails as the guard, and she wouldn't let it run away so easily. she clicks her tongue when it cries, thinking to send it back into its pokeball.

but just as she was ready to recall it, there's a voice behind her.

she turns slowly, her eyes slowly drawing away from the pokemon to the person. a civilian it seemed—civilians usually weren't around this time at night. and they didn't usually interfere with her matters either. the last thing she needed was someone prying into her business.

"everything is fine. this pokemon is only weak and cowardly, is all." she responds, monotone. her gaze draws to the cubone. under her eyes, it flinches away, backing itself into a corner. it was a pathetic thing, not even having bothered to try fighting her before it gave up. but she, ever polite, still turns back to the person at hand. her soft voice had always been a stark contrast to the way she had treated pokemon, hers or not.

"is there a problem?"

adele veronesi

the moment splinters, and adele sees all the horrible ways that this interaction could go.

all of it ends the same way: adele exits stage left and leaves. there's no good reason to find a person in an alley. even less with a pokemon that cries as pitifully as this. they don't really stop to think on the why, but the how it is that they've unwittingly placed themself in this situation and the what it was that they were supposed to say to depart without drawing unwanted attention.

hoenn is full of infinite troubles and they decided a while ago that they need not invite more of it.

"um."

but. but.

their attention flicks briefly to the creature hidden behind the stranger. they can't really pick it out. but, it's small. probably a young one, or at least something that wasn't evolved. not someone's kid, they have to assume, and so their conscience absolves itself of responsibility to intervene. they've never had much luck with pokemon. they had three of their own, but those were kind of things that they just ended up with.

calming them down was—well, they had a psyduck.

they got flung across the room often.

their acupuncturist could confirm it.

the pause becomes a protracted silence. their lips seal together and they steady themself before pointing behind the stranger with a weak gesture. "you draw more attention by letting it out here," adele sounds certain, at least, even as they hastily construct their sentences one word after another. "might want to do it somewhere crowded." another brief quiet. they inhale.

"if you're going to abandon it, i mean. pokemon control, or—someone will pick him up. don't have to leave it here. it'll just cry louder." they mumble.

"someone might get the wrong idea."

cassidy

cassidy is nothing if not patient. she bides her time. she waits and she listens. she is blank faced as the person before her stutters and gathers their words.

"somewhere crowded." she repeats, as if to evaluate the words. at first it seemed a silly thought. more people assumed more attention; and cassidy was not one to bask. but it would make more sense if she had assumed the role of a trainer, and not a poacher; if the cubone had just been colicky and not traumatized.

if this stranger's words assumed what cassidy had thought it did, then the wrong idea was the right idea, at least in an objective sense. but she thinks, that this person had chosen their words carefully, and rightfully so.

the cubone's crying had ebbed to quiet sobs, fatigued from its crying. the stranger looked kinder than the girl who had taken it to this scary place, and it gave the pokemon enough courage to make a run for it. cassidy does not bother to catch it, nor does she motion for her ninetails to.

she lets the weak pokemon go as it runs to the stranger and clings onto their legs. it was so scared, but it had already determined the worse out of its choices, between an unknown and a known danger. she holds the ball in her hands, rubbing its smooth surface with the flat of her thumb. wasn't it fascinating, holding this power over such a helpless creature?

"tell me, stranger. if you had a choice between being destitute or being abandoned, which would you choose?"

adele veronesi

maybe she was just callous.

that wasn't something to report. or an indication of any certainty of violence, but the situation puts them at odds with any rational thought: it would be their great luck to find themself surviving a hostile takeover only to end up face down in an alley. adele hardly registers it when the cubone scuttles out from behind its trainer(?) and cowers behind their legs.

the only sign that they knew was that their hand reaches instinctively downward to gently press to the skull it wears, its tears wetting the back of one of their legs.

if it offers any comfort, there's no indication.

in this situation, what were they supposed to do? ask for the pokeball, or offer to take it to the agency themself? drop it off at a pokecenter until someone came running looking for it? take it in? or return it to the girl once the cubone's weepiness has been abated?

then, she asks a question and it makes adele stop thinking altogether.

"what?" what kind of a question was that? they pause, uncertain as they watch her to see if she actually wanted an answer or if it was purely rhetorical. destitute, or abandoned? their chest tightens at the thought. not from sympathy, but from the thought that crosses their mind that adele had been abandoned and knowing that—

that it wasn't the case, and still it. still,

"destitute," because that they endeavored to think was something that could be fixed.

being abandoned could not be.

"why? what would you choose?"

cassidy