"Hmm..."

Ana holds a piece of newsprint paper up in the air, positioned in such a way to look like it is balancing precariously atop the head of a nearby stall owner in her view. It must be a humorous sight, because she begins laughing as soon as as she gets the position just right. On the ground, at her side, lies a purring Espeon with more than a few gray hairs on his muzzle, dozing off in the warm, mid-afternoon sun.

Ana, of course, jolts back into reality when movement appears in the corner of her eye.

"Oh my gosh, hey!" Ana gasps, her orange eyes sparkling as she turns in her seat to fully face the man in front of her stall. "Are you into art? Or just browsing? I got all sorts of cool stuff here. It's all mine, too!"

Then, as if afflicted by an ailment that prevents her from staying on any given topic for more than just a fleeting moment, Ana stands and leans in to Howard. "Oh, look at this." She extends the newsprint paper again, positioning it once more atop the head of the vase seller, in such a way so that Howard can finally see the sketch drawn onto it: the very same Espeon at her side, sketched so that it looks like he is...

Well, in Ana's words: taking a dump on some talentless hack.

Though she presses her lips together, Ana can't help the giggles already bubbling out.

howard slayte

The archaeologist's Aerodactyl sniffs at the sunbathing Espeon, at the risk of rousing the catlike creature from its afternoon slumber.

One magenta eye met two orange ones. Energy. Excitement. A constant reminder that the admin needed a cup of coffee, a shot of adrenaline, and something to keep his heart from stopping after indulging in enough caffeination to kill a Tauros. Petalburg was such an exhausting endeavor, and frankly Howard needed a nap.

An extrovert's attitude was an acceptable substitute, though. He returned Anastasia's smile with one of his own.

"Oh, I'm a big art fan! Huge, actually! I'm really into..." The forty thousand PD painting he had bought from a private collector in Kalos flashed in his mind, causing him to stumble over his words. "...landscapes. Yeah!"

Matching her energy was hard. He peered at the newspaper. Correction: matching her energy was very hard.

"Snrrrrk." He chuckled, before coughing into his fist. He desperately tried to hide his amusement. "Ahem. You're super talented."

He poked around the stall.

"I'm looking for something to fit in my office, actually. Got any suggestions?"

---

Anastasia Harmon

She, evidently, had not expected the compliment, and it quickly and summarily breaks her amusement, like a knife through cake.

"Aw, really? Thank you so much!" She grins, shifting to stand on her toes for just a moment as if the praise alone were enough to lift her off her feet. "I'm so glad you think my stuff is cool! I work really hard on it, you know? Well... sometimes!"

Surreptitiously, but not very sneakily, Ana kicks some extremely low effort caricatures out of view of her decidedly rugged looking customer, and discards her crude sketch. Near these pieces, Old Whiskers rouses, his whiskers twitching as he glances up at the Aerodactyl nearing him. Then, deciding the situation isn't worth his wakefulness, he promptly dozes off once more.

As for a recommended piece, Ana spends a moment with her finger on her chin, eyes lifted to the sky, in search of the perfect piece to show a potential buyer—rare these days, what with... well, all of the terrible stuff that happens in Hoenn. She would never look a gift Rapidash in the mouth, though.

Then, she looks back down, eyes sparkling. One can practically see the lightbulb over her head. "Ah, I have just the thing!"

She ducks down behind the table, rummaging around until she pops back up with a large canvas wrapped in paper. She lays the canvas on the table and unwraps it slowly, dramatic flourish included. It's a serene landscape, mountains and forests with a vibrant, glowing sky. The sun has been painted with meticulous care, rays of light stretching out to seemingly touch the viewer. She has obviously been classically trained, as the technique is reminiscent of many old, romantic masters, a style that contrasts in an odd, finicky way with the excitable girl that now presents it.

"Ta-dah!" she exclaims. "Being in a fancy-pants office all day sounds boring and icky. You need something beautiful to brighten your morning!"

Ana grins up at Howard expectantly, eager for his reaction to her prized piece. "You like? I like! Well. I liked painting it, at least!"

howard slayte

Ana hid her half-hearted pieces with all the grace of a Snorlax leaping off a cliff. Howard looked away as she did so, whistling innocently as he hid a shameless smirk. He looked up at the sky, not interrupting the artist's thoughts as she parsed his question.

It was a good day, with not a cloud in the sky. Even if they were in Petalburg or Sootopolis—cities ravaged by war—the sky would not change. It'd still be this shade of blue. Every person in the region shared it in solidarity, their one inherited gift that would persist centuries into the future.

That pristine nature... It was still the same sky, so perfectly clear.

"Sorry, I was thinking about stupid stuff." He turned back to face Ana.
"Long day, you know how it i-"

He stopped.

Wow.

There was a cathedral in Sinnoh that held an entire ceiling that had been painted with the intention of replicating the heavens. In a twisted sense, it was a landscape painting of the highest caliber. It replicated the heavens, something that mankind would never grasp.

How had Ana learned to replicate that sensation?

"This is incredible." It reminded the admin of Hoenn, of home. He had to repress reaching out and touching the piece, lest it be ruined by human hands. "You made this?"

Howard looked to her.

"How? Where did you make this? What's the inspiration?"

---

Anastasia Harmon

She, evidently, had not expected the compliment, and it quickly and summarily breaks her amusement, like a knife through cake.

Well, now she's really gone and done it. The moment she lays eyes on the genuine wonder in her customer's expression, her heart does a little flip in her chest. It isn't the excitement of making a sale (though admittedly, her stomach does flutter a little at that thought as well), but more the absolute euphoria that comes from knowing someone truly understands her work, can appreciate it for what it is.

He asks her about it, and she doesn't think she can contain her enthusiasm even if she tries.

"Well," she begins, clasping her hands behind her back and practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. "It's from the Sky Tower island, looking out over the rest of Hoenn!"

Her eyes grow misty. "It was the first thing I painted when I got in Hoenn! I wanted to find the perfect spot! Whenever I go to a new place, painting it makes me feel... like a part of it! Rather than an outsider, you know?"

"Really though, this is one of my favorites," she admits, tracing a finger just a hair shy of the edge of the frame, eyeing it fondly like it's an old friend. "I think I really did find the perfect spot!"

She is silent for a moment, mind racing with the euphoria of painting her own introduction to a completely new land. Then, Old Whiskers, finally sensing his human's genuine enthusiasm, rises slowly from his spot, his gaze fixed on Howard with a gentle curiosity. He wanders over to the man, and rubs against his leg once, a clear indication of his approval.

"Oh," Ana laughs, "if Whiskers likes you, I like you too! I'll give you a discount if you reallllllly want it!"

howard slayte

There existed a world in which nothing changed. Where it was simply a pristine piece on a canvas, filled to the brim with idyllic moments that could never be marred, for they could never truly end. A world where nothing changed felt like paradise, but it was impossible for the admin to create.

Thus, Ana's painting spoke to him. His words aren't compliments, they're simply true.

"I think you did. Sky Pillar's island is a sacred site, special to those who hold it dear. It's one of our region's most important places, a testament to what we can accomplish." In truth, he's shocked that Ana wasn't kicked out by one of the keepers there, or by a random member of Team Rocket. With Sootopolis so close by, it was a dangerous place. "Hoenn's... dangerous, these days."

He tries to avoid sugarcoating it, but he'd rather not dampen the mood. Dewford's sheriff is better at that than Howard is.

"But we accept everyone equally. No matter where you go here, know that Hoenn always has a place for you. You're welcome here, anytime."

Shirley threatens to growl at Old Whiskers, but a glare from Howard silences her. He scratched the Espeon's fluffy ears for a moment, before turning to the artist. A discount? It's almost impossible to keep him from seeing dollar signs everywhere. Yet that moment is met with guilt.

"I won't accept that. You worked hard on it. You told me its story, and what inspired its creation."" He smiled slightly. "You've given me more than enough, miss...?"

---

Anastasia Harmon

Hoenn's... dangerous, these days.

Anastasia has grown up on tales of adventure, and she has lived them through a paintbrush's width of separation. She also knows the stories about Hoenn, too, and the danger lurking in its waters—Rocket, meteors, war. A thrill of danger excites her, though—a call to adventure! Something daring and new, but...

Not like this. She doesn't know what to do with herself when he says it, the truth of it ringing through clear as crystal. For the first time since the conversation began, she's silent. Even her hands still in their furious fidgeting, pressing together like birds flying south.

And then he says the part about Hoenn being a place for her, and she can't help the smile that follows. "Thank you! I really hope so!"

Then he declines her discount, and though it makes her heart strings ache a little, there's a new kind of warmth in her chest—pride, gratitude, excitement at a piece sold for full price, she's not really sure, but she does know it's welcome all the same.

She smiles again, this one brighter than the first.

"It's Anastasia Harmon. Ana!" she adds with a cheerful little hiccup in her words. "I like it better that way. What's your name?"

"And, hmmm..." She bites her lip, thinking hard for a moment. What is the painting even worth? She's unsure. She had offered a discount without even being certain of the full price. "I'll take... three hundred for it!"

howard slayte

Anastasia. Ana. Howard made a silent note to remember that name and carve it into the mausoleum that belonged with every person that Howard had ever met.

"That's a good name. You carry it well. Mine is Howard Slayte. Archaeologist. Historian. Professor. I live here in Rustboro, though work has been pretty doom and gloom because of the loss of Petalburg." Partially because of him. Team Rocket had taken the city because he had marched on it with giants of ice and stone.

Regirock and Regice had leveled the city. That was his weight to bear. He realized that he was staring off into infinity as Ana rattled off the price. He blinked once, then twice, then thrice.

"Three hundred?" The admin scratched his chin in thought, musing on the quality of the painting. It was of a high quality, but the admin was specialized in grading historical pieces. For recreational ones, he was slightly at a loss. "Hmmm..."

Damn, this was hard.

"Alright, there goes my rent..." Howard sighed and took a deep breath and peered into his wallet, before remembering that it was empty. He had spent a modest sum of thirty thousand dollars on a statue recently, and his bank account was running on empty. "You take checks?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an Aerodactyl checkbook, complete with an Aerodactyl pen.

---

Anastasia Harmon

The way his eyes go all distant doesn't go unnoticed by Ana, who tilts her head, a pretty little crease forming between her eyebrows as she watches him. There's a certain vacancy in his gaze—like his mind had physically transported him a million miles away, perhaps as if weighed down by some unseen burden, and Ana wonders for a moment if he's okay. But the moment passes before she has a chance to say anything, and she simply files it away in her mind for later, beneath scattered memories and tentative sketches, underneath a little mental note labelled 'Heavy.'

Of course, as soon as she quotes a price, she is filled with doubt. Who was she to put a price on art? What if it was too much? Was three hundred too much? She had no idea! Her heart begins to race, nervous with the prospect that she has perhaps overestimated herself just a little bit too much, but Howard ultimately decides to buy, and Ana almost laughs with relief.

Her face screws up in concentration as she stares at the rather odd question. It takes her a moment to understand what it means, but when she does, she can't help but feel a little bit sad. Three hundred dollars, and he couldn't afford it any other way?

She can't do such a thing to someone. Running her lip beneath her lip, Ana blurts out a new price. "Umm, actually, I'll take a hundred!" Ana exclaims, then pauses to gauge his expression, and then goes even lower. "...Fifty?"

She sighs, running a hand through her wild brown hair, and glances away. "I'll take fifty. No higher!"

Ana fiddles with her palms. Everyone deserves art. Truthfully, she doesn't need the money. Her mom funds her adventures anyways, and she would be a fool to ignore the privileged life she's lead. And, well... Howard kind of seems like he needs something to brighten his day.

howard slayte

He might actually kill himself. This was unfathomably embarrassing. Who couldn't afford three digits at a random street stall? Who had to pull out a checkbook and an Aerodactyl pen in order to pay for a piece of art? What kind of artist offered to discount their own work?

This was embarrassing. More than fighting in a war, this exchange made Howard want to end it all right here.

"Miss Harmon. Ana." Howard swallowed nervously, before his magenta eye met her two orange ones. "If I pay fifty for this, I think I'll die. Legitimately. My heart will explode and I'll collapse right here on the sidewalk out of shame. Art is a luxury, and it'd be like stealing from you."

To steal from an artist was a tragedy that had claimed many famous painters during their heyday. If that happened to Ana because she sold at an absurd discount, he'd never forgive himself.

Instead, he scratched his chin thoughtfully, fingernails running against the stubble. After opening his wallet and peering inside, Howard exhaled.

"I have eighty." He dug deeper, before nodding. "And a couple random coins."

He pulled the funds out and pushed them into her open hand, before huffing stubbornly.

"If you reach into your pocket and pull out change, I'm running off."

---

Anastasia Harmon

There it is again—that certain heaviness in his gaze, as if guilt is physically weighing him down from the inside. The faint sentiment leaves Ana worried, though he wisn't the first person she'd ever seen look so distraught. Her mother, weary and careworn after a day of working under esteemed nobles; the workers in the stalls that lined these very streets, facing another exhausting day.

The sight of Howard suddenly standing up for his principles tugs a smile out of her, though, and she nearly laughs at the proclamation of shame, but for once, she manages to stifle it. Poor guy really does have his pride, doesn't he? Using her full name and everything, like he's her mom!

But then, instead of simply allowing Ana to help him out here, the guy goes and does something even more humiliating than simply pulling out a checkbook! Eighty dollars. Eighty! And Ana's guilt spirals out of control until she's scooping up the measly amount, huffing as she stares up at Howard with something caught between admiration and frustration.

She extends one finger, pointing it squarely at his chest. "You... You're going to die if you don't let me give you some change! It's bad enough you're offering literally everything you have, but how am I supposed to say I sold it if you don't take some change!? Take it!"

Ana needs him to accept. There's no way she could not give him change—she refuses! Is it her first real art transaction or a damn charity?!

She reaches into her pocket, prepared to pull out some change to make up for it (though, there's only a ten in her pocket, and she has no idea what she's going to do if he really does run off like he said he would), but she pauses when she catches sight of his expression. Well, she hadn't considered that he may very well feel worse for making her give change... Reluctantly, she tucks the bill back in her pocket.

Maybe they both won't feel so bad if she just lets this slide?

"Okay," she says, huffing in defeat. "Eighty it is. You drive a hard bargain!"

There's still the tiniest hint of fire inside of her as she goes about wrapping up the canvas. "What's your name, mister? And do you have something good to carry this back with?"

howard slayte

Ana called it a hard bargain, when in truth it was Howard somehow haggling up from her own mediocre price of fifty PD. Would fifty even cover the paints or the time spent trekking to the scene to paint the piece to begin with? Howard doubted it, but Ana was insistent on burning money.

Howard couldn't comprehend it. He had spent his time out of college scrounging for meager funds. He couldn't imagine having his journey being paid for by another benefactor. Not that his family had invested much into him. They had wanted a businessman, but they had gotten an archaeologist.

What future was there in a field situated entirely in the past?

"You'd make a good businesswoman. You haggle like a demon possessed! Except you argued in the wrong direction, Ana. I'm pretty sure you're supposed to argue upwards while I argue downwards, and then we end up on a compromise that satisfies neither of us."

A good compromise left nobody happy, and everyone unsatisfied. Such concessions were only reached because both parties were content, knowing that they had made the other side miserable.

Such was business. There was a reason Howard had elected to dig up bones and collect funeral urns.

"Howard Slayte, last I checked. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I've got some good help." Howard tapped a Pokeball at his belt, and several dozen Stakataka bricks rolled out. The Ultra Beast folded itself into a large briefcase, complete with a clicking lid. "Love these little guys. They're so useful!"

A hint of pride colored his voice as he puffed out his chest. The briefcase looked like it weighed a ton.

"It should perfectly fit your painting."

---

Anastasia Harmon

Ana shakes her head, waving off the idea as she listens to his explanation. If being a businesswoman meant arguing and pinching pennies, she wants no part in it! The only numbers she deals with are the dimensions she doodles alongside her sketches, or the price of a good pastry every morning. And arguing? To her, compromising means everyone gets what they want. What's the point otherwise?

"Well, Howard," she says, testing the name out, her voice buoyant and proud and excitable once more, "I think I like my way better! Who cares about that other stuff? As long as everyone's happy and everyone wins, what's it matter? I won anyways because I made my first sale ever!"

Then, the mention of good help, and Ana looks around in search of the aforementioned help. But as she stares, she watches as the Ultra Beast spills out from the tiny sphere at his side. There it is, in the flesh (or... In the brick?) A real Stakataka.

Ana cannot believe her eyes. She had only heard about these creatures in stories, and she had never imagined that they could fold themselves into such shapes! There was hardly any excess material, and the way it folded itself together like that... Talk about true mastery! It reminds her of her mom's studio, filled with fabric and multimedia materials, all unwieldy and hard to make work. But the Stackatacka... It has no problem at all!

"Wowie, this is incredible!" Ana fumbles over her words in excitement, already wishing she had her sketchbook out to document this. What an incredible feat of engineering! A Pokémon capable of fitting itself into perfect dimensions like that? So awesome!

She glances down at Old Whiskers, opening her mouth to ask if he knew anything about this Pokémon, but she decides against it. Not in front of her first real customer! Mom always told her it was weird to talk to her cat in front of pleasant company.

Taking one last, longing look at the briefcase, Ana makes a mental note to pester her Espeon later. Instead, she shakes her head and places the painting inside the briefcase.

"It, uh... Looks heavy, though," Ana mentions as she straightens, glancing over Howard's physique. He doesn't really look like a bodybuilder to her. "Are you gonna be able to carry it...?"

howard slayte