[attr="class","isratalk"]

Click. Clack.

The sound of her heels is stark against the familiar backdrop of the city. There comes a point where even the night life begins to fall apart, scattering and slumbering in their beds or under awnings, even here in Lilycove. The quiet settles in her bones and she wears it like a favored dress, as if she belongs here. As if it belongs to her.

In many ways it does.

Returning home after her work in FERNANDO SILPH's office may very well be her favorite part of the night. The whole world is her's to do with as she pleases and who is there to witness her humming a tune to herself, porcelain hands out stretched and moving with a beat found only in her head? There is no one but her. At least, that is what she thinks. Isra does not seem to notice him at first, stragglers are not an uncommon enough sight for her to deign to pay attention and she is content to let him pass her by as she enjoys the bite in the evening air. It permeates through the long sleeves of her dress and the shawl bundled around her shoulders is but a formality.

Isra only comes to a stop because he does. The sound of her heels slow and linger against the pavement for a moment. She waits, letting the silence settle for a moment. "Lost?"

She stands with perfect posture and a perfect smile.

Remiel Calcifet

the trees can't grow without the sun in their eyes; and we can't live if we're too afraid to die

Hands nestled warmly in the pockets of his pajama pants, Remiel regarded the young woman with an analytical look. She certainly didn't appear homeless, nor did she exude criminality. Although the latter could easily have been masked. Regardless, she spoke, and he answered. "Quite on purpose," He nonchalantly replied, taking a slow gander at this surroundings. The shadows blanketed the unfamiliar area strongly, and the world almost appeared void of color for it. "Treading new ground is more worthwhile than following a predetermined trail."

Truthfully, getting lost and finding his way back again kept him occupied enough to get all the exercise he needed, before inevitably crashing into bed around sunrise. But exploring the unexplored, and dealing with any dangers or challenges that came from it, was also true to his character. His blue-grey eyes settled back onto the young woman. Wearing his contacts today as opposed to his trademark black glasses, those eyes were far more striking. Almost as if they could peer into the soul.

"I don't see many roaming the streets this time of night... I don't suppose you're a poltergeist, are you?" He was teasing, of course. But the Sinistea on his shoulder tipped its teacup towards the woman anyway. Briefly rearing its liquid-like and blob-shaped head from its interior, then tilting it sideways like a curious cat.

Isra Nightingale

made by nette of gs!

[attr="class","isratalk"]

It's not so often that her smile is anything more than a well practiced lie but he amuses her and it puts truth in the curve of her lips. Though she looked in his direction it was only now she really paid attention. Isra had half expected him to ignore her or perhaps give some half-hearted lie so that he wouldn't have to admit that he had no idea where he was. He looked the part after all, pajama pants and jacket, someone that could have easily wondered down the wrong path coming home from the convenience store and is too stubborn to ask how to get back home. Perhaps that was too typical, and perhaps she had found someone that did not fit the mold.

"I tend to agree." dark eyes snap back up to his own and she holds his gaze. There is a silent reminder in her head to keep her eyes on the person she is speaking with. It was rude to let them wonder too far. Formality and politeness ever present in her mannerisms. "And besides, you never know what you might find." he makes it easy to keep her eyes on him at least, tempering his intensity with the stillness of her own. Perhaps with eyes like that he will catch the hints at what lies bellow the surface, the glint of something more, how the corners crinkle ever so slightly from amusement and how they playfully dance across his shoulder to where the sinistea sits.

Hands move behind her back and lock into place as she leans forward with the Sinistea until hair cascades off her back and over her shoulder in waves. It tilts its head and her's tilts too ever so slightly. "Like a poltergeist lurking in the streets after dark." she gives the pokemon a fitting grin, teasing at the possibility that she just might be ghost. In many ways she looks the part already, the something sinister in her grin only drives home the possibility.

Remiel Calcifet

the trees can't grow without the sun in their eyes; and we can't live if we're too afraid to die

Remiel was accustomed to easily reading every movement a person made, every expression, every word and the cadence with which it was spoken, and constructing a psychological profile that benefitted his interaction with them. Whether the time of hour had dulled his senses or whether this woman was too bizarre to read, however, he simply couldn't figure her out. Then again, they'd only just met... and, as far as he could tell, she was teasing them. It was much easier reflecting off others. More often than not, he found that people were a hall of mirrors you needed to navigate before finding their true selves. 

He didn't back away or flinch as she approached, but instead nonchalantly observed as Earl Grey and her had their little moment. When the staring continued on for longer than most people would consider 'comfortable', Remiel spoke, upon which the little poltergeist in the teacup receded back into its home and balanced itself once more. "That would imply you've got some unfinished business on this plane, then." The young lad matter-of-factly stated, deciding to play along with her game. "Did a Zigzagoon steal the sweets from your gravestone? That's about all you'll find around this time of night."

Isra Nightingale

made by nette of gs!

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Isra is content to continue her little game with the ghost in a teacup. It's such a curious little fellow and she watches it with interest. The woman has half a mind to reach out and tap its cup but keeps her hands behind her back and to herself. Instead of indulging herself she rights her torso in much the same fashion the little ghost rights itself, continuing to play along.

"Mmmmm, one probably did. They're awful little things. No respect for the dead amongst them." she pouts at the thought, a look that falls almost as quickly as it came. "More like a very grumpy Golem has wronged me though, he takes and takes and it's only fair I come back after death to take from him instead." isra says, chuckling softly at the continued charade. It's a cute little game and he's won her favor by playing along so far. Not everyone is so willing to humor her.

"And what about you? You certainly don't look like any of the poltergeists I've seen around here before." her inquiry is surprisingly genuine, he's earned her interest for the moment. Besides, it's only polite to inquire back after he's gone through the effort of humoring her.

Remiel Calcifet

the trees can't grow without the sun in their eyes; and we can't live if we're too afraid to die

A 'grumpy Golem' then? Remiel briefly racked his mind for some sort of ulterior meaning behind the statement, but admittedly was at a loss. Regardless, the mysterious young woman seemed amused by his reaction (or lack thereof) and moved ahead with their impromptu back-and-forth. His curiosity as piqued as ever, Remiel listened. They were verbally dancing around the wellspring of each other's mysteries. Perhaps this would end with some form of satisfaction in that regard. "I'm from out of town," He answered, softly running a hand through his hair and shifting the bangs away from his eyes while doing so. "I'm here on business. And it's quite unfinished."

A Murkrow cut the silence that otherwise would have prevailed after his statement, cawing as it flew overhead and disappearing into the dark silhouette of a tree. Dropping his hand from his hair, and letting the messy black strands cascade around his seemingly asymmetrical countenance, the blue-grey eyed young man continued. "You know... I do delight in uncovering an enigma. However, at this point in time, any well-adjusted pair of strangers would have already introduced themselves, wouldn't you agree?" He calmly inquired.

Isra Nightingale

made by nette of gs!

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Dark eyes watch him rather closely, following the movement of his hand and returning to his face when he speaks. Isra can't help the chuckle, it's something in the way he chooses his words. She gets the feeling he is very from out of town, something that does not strike her as unusual, the last year or so has brought many to the region for varying reasons. Though a small part of her wonders what his are, specially if they are so unfinished. "How unfortunate." she comments idly.

Her eyes only wander away from him because the sound of the murkrow gives her an excuse to look up at the sky and to seek the horizon. Though the hour is late but not so much still it is her only real keeper. A fact she is not eager to advertise and as such her eyes return to him in time to watch the strands fall around his face. It makes her realize the mess she has allowed her own to become when she leaned over, suddenly busying herself with righting the locks. The motion of returning them to her back surprisingly fluid, letting them settle there where they belong.

Isra speaks while she smooths out the shorter parts that frame her face, making sure that every strand goes back right where it belongs. "Poltergeist to enigma to well-adjusted, you're making me out to be a little bit of everything tonight now aren't you?" there's amusement in her tone, a flash of a teasing grin before she answers him. "My name is Isra, Isra Nightingale."

She pauses a moment, inspecting her hair before her eyes settle on his again. "Isn't it supposed to be rude to ask for an introduction without offering your own first?"

Remiel Calcifet

the trees can't grow without the sun in their eyes; and we can't live if we're too afraid to die

Nightingale. How interesting.

Though his calm, blue-grey eyes belied a sudden intensity of thought and curiosity in his mind, Remiel quickly snapped out of it when she pointed out that he hadn't introduced himself either. "Ah... yes, I suppose so. My apologies." He replied, placing one hand behind his back and the other flat against his stomach as he offered her a polite bow. "My name is Remiel Calcifet." He spoke, straightening in posture just as his Sinistea mimicked the gesture. "And this is Earl Grey, a companion I received from my graduation at Hammerlocke University." That was a little more information than he usually cared to share, including his publicized surname.

But there was something about her that made it easy to share. And the revelation that was beginning to blossom in his mind told him that gaining her trust fast and early was paramount. A quiet, reserved person was hard to trust.

"Miss Nightingale... I'll be forward in saying that I'd like to meet you somewhere a bit more private."

If there was any connotations about that statement that could be made, it was going right over his head.

Isra Nightingale

made by nette of gs!

[attr="class","isratalk"]

His introduction charms her. It swims bellow the surface of her smile and gaze, careful not to let it show. She appreciates his manners and she knows the names he speaks in an abstract way. They are things she has heard but not experienced and they float in front of her like half truths she has not yet confirmed the realness of.

They are like many things in her life, the kind of thing someone of her stature should know but having not seen them she does not quite think them real. And yet here he is in front of her, speaking them nonetheless.

"A pleasure, Remiel Calcifet." she repeats the name delicately, as if she were carefully placing every letter in their respective space in her mind. Isra does not quite grasp who stands before her but that makes him more interesting than not. Questions surface quickly but she finds herself stowing them away for another time when he almost seems to read her mind and speak the same thing she is thinking in a way: They ought to meet again.

The chuckle is light on her lips. "Isra, please, I only go by that at work." though she appreciates the politeness he has more than earned the right to be a little less formal. "I suppose you're pleasant enough to allow that."

She leans forward the slightest bit, as if to get a closer look at him as she speaks. "Lucky you, I like forwardness, or else it would be awful easy to take offense to that." she watches his face closely, hoping he will satisfy her confirmation of his intent. Though she does not feel he's implying anything uncouth she knows better than most how easy it is to cover up ones ulterior motives. "Not that you aren't pleasant enough in that regard, but you should be careful what you ask of a lady after dark."

Remiel Calcifet

the trees can't grow without the sun in their eyes; and we can't live if we're too afraid to die

At first, Remiel was somewhat baffled by her words. He knew being so forward, after only just having met, could have been considered rude or impulsive. But there was more to that, something crucial he was missing. He could tell by the way she had uttered those words. Though if there was any sincerity in having taken offense, she most certainly did well in masking it beneath an air of playfulness. He remains perfectly still and narrows his eyes on her as she stares at him back. Eventually, just before she starts speaking again, the realization hits him.

Rather than dissolving into an apologetic and embarrassed puddle, however, the blue-grey eyed young man mutters a sound. "Mm... duly noted." He responds, finally breaking his gaze away from hers. "Does this particular lady roam the world in daylight, anyway? If being careful is something she holds paramount, I'll allow her to designate the time and place." The royal heir continued, holding out his hand for a moment before Earl Grey swiftly placed himself on top of it. "Though I suppose no one can ever really be safe with such powerful creatures in our command, hm?"

The Sinistea swirls inside its teacup like a maroon whirlpool... before suddenly stopping, and thereafter forming a wavy, watery smile in the substance.

Isra Nightingale

made by nette of gs!

[attr="class","isratalk"]

"Oh don't go reading me wrong now." she notes how stiff his response seems, but what she otherwise perceives as a blank response is enough to satisfy her. If he's manages to fool her he's earned it. "Careful has nothing do with it, I just prefer to be certain about what I'm getting myself into before I commit." Isra returns to her perfect posture, a little shimmy in her shoulders as if to shake off the momentary dissonance in what had been an otherwise smooth and pleasant conversation. "And I'm afraid you've found me at a time of night when most have less than innocent motives."

Her eyes move to his hand as the sinistea puts itself front and center, watching the small creature as it swirls in the cup. It's smile makes her smile in return and this time she can't quite keep herself from reaching out to it. A slender finger taps the rim of the cup gently, curious about the creature within but careful not to over step whatever boundaries it might have.

"I'm afraid I'm not much for daylight. I'm easiest found after dark or just before morning, though I'm afraid the closer to dawn the less time I have to spare." she looks back up at him, "I work most nights, sleep most of the day." she chooses to clarify now rather than later. "If you're willing to meet me part way, there is a little cafe here in town that lets me stay awhile after they close on my days off. We'd have the place mostly to ourselves and I won't have to leave earlier than you will."

His last comment makes her grin, she can't help but feel like there's a weightier implication behind it. Perhaps that's why she feels compelled to whistle, two notes, high then low. Her Banette flickers into sight beside her, brimming with the energy of a plane he's become accustomed to sitting in and he introduces himself with a playful chuckle before shifting out of sight again.

The pokemon accompanies her everywhere she goes.

Remiel Calcifet

the trees can't grow without the sun in their eyes; and we can't live if we're too afraid to die

Her dainty finger treading the rim of the cup doesn't seem to irritate the Sinistea at all. In fact, it prompts the ectoplasm-like substance within the teacup to gently swirl in the opposite direction: a sign of content. Though, more than likely, only those who had partnered with a Sinistea for a prolonged amount of time would know such a thing.

There wasn't an ounce of surprise when Isra all but confirmed her nocturnal predilection. Though the mention of a job, and the lack of details surrounding it, certainly piqued his curiosity. Alas, that was something Remiel could inquire about at this café she had mentioned.

Sharp blue-grey eyes narrow on the ephemeral sight of a Banette that suddenly appears beside her after a curt sequence of whistles. He almost smiles. "Proper." He's fond of her... style. Though he drops his outstretched hand, the Sinistea remains floating in place, perfectly balanced. "We'll rendezvous here again, then." Remy continues, sinking his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. "Don't cross into the other side until we do, poltergeist. I have an offer that might interest you."

Isra Nightingale

made by nette of gs!

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Proper. Not angry or afraid or even startled by the pokemon, but not excited either like she's seen with ghost-type enthusiasts. He is both something she can't quite place in any of her usual boxes a person belongs in and someone that has genuinely amused her twice now. It's enough to make her laugh, truly laugh, a surprisingly weighty sound compared to the usual dainty chuckles she uses in the flow of conversation.

Where his hand moves away her's moves to take it's place, settling bellow the pokemon's cup. She finally places the familiarity, a part of her mind having been combing over old information to determine what exactly it was. Hailing from Galar her experience is minimal, enough so to simply find its activity quaint. Her finger runs along the rim of the cup as she answers him.

"Do you now?" it's almost absent, but she's not uninterested. "I'll promise to do my best and stick around for it, so long as you promise to get lost enough to find me again." Her eyes finally move from the pokemon to him again. "Because I certainly wouldn't mind if you did again."

Remiel Calcifet