Just before he had left to join the Rangers, he had asked his mom if he needed a resume. She laughed at him. What would you even put on it?

And it was fair. Scout knows he doesn't exactly have much qualifiable experience besides a high school diploma and a short CPR course (he has the certificate around here, somewhere, swear...). He sits in front of Head Ranger Morales, trying his best not to squirm in his chair, and gives a single, short nod to confirm his identity.

The next question is a softball. But when Scout starts talking, maybe he thinks he should have thought his words through a bit more. "I want to um, help people. Which seems needed. Because of... current events," he says, "And I like the outdoors."

He adds, quietly: "I was an Eagle Scout."


ollie morales

Head Ranger Morales's smile is almost a little disconcerting in its sincerity. Scout finds himself matching it with his own, albeit much shakier and gummier, grin. He slides his hands underneath his legs to still them.

"Cool." He asks, genuinely curious: "Which troop?"

He wonders what the Eagle Scouts were like when Morales was a kid. That must have been ages ago. Decades, even.

The next question feels a bit more like a test. "You know, like the war." Scout says. "I was fourteen when they attacked Slateport. My dad — um, he's a sailor. Sometimes his ships go through there."

He takes a deep breath. "And I know most people can take care of themselves. And that's what the officers are for. But all the wild Pokémon that don't know what's going on... someone needs to help them, too."



ollie morales