when noah is enlightened of howitzer's passing, he sends adrian a text. still, the message seems clinical to noah. sterile. devoid of color and timbre. he makes it a point to come visit- and buys boxed lunches along the way.

with his plastic bag in one hand, noah pushes the door open. already unlocked, perhaps, as if in anticipation of his arrival.

when he sees adrian, he smiles weakly. "hey buddy." spreading his arms, he beckons for an embrace.

Adrian Malcolm

noah comes to the counter and takes a seat beside him. he sets the plastic bag down and unearths the boxed lunch. some chicken soup in a styrofoam container sits beside it, the plastic lid dotted in faint yellow bubbles.

"hey, anytime." noah says. "got some curry rice for you. don't think you'd wanna cook when you're done."

he sees the boxes, the mementos of the dead. but noah doesn't stare for too long.

"is there anything i can do for you buddy?" noah says. "i'm yours for the day!"

Adrian Malcolm

noah casts a forlorn glance at howitzer's belongings. remnants of their shared life rest in nests of fur and divots of bites. he sees these clearly— life surrounded by dog pokemon prompts him to search for what is now obvious.

"'course i am." noah says, laughing for adrian.

he hoists his share. arms stretch wide, fingers barely grasping the other side of his own cardboard box. when adrian drops his artifacts, noah does not need to see to know what has just transpired.

noah sets his box down and drapes his arm across the other's shoulders. he leans close, a fragile smile still curled into his cheeks.

"are you sure you wanna throw all of this out now?" noah says. "could be a good idea to keep a few, maybe. for now, at least. just to remember the good times, right?"

Adrian Malcolm

noah collects adrian's memories. carefully, he plucks each toy, feeling each bite mark, each fraying thread. the box he had carried is tossed in right after— and as howitzer's belongings disappear into the chasm, the cold thud of a garbage lid slamming close rings in his bones.

"you must've loved howitzer a ton, man."

noah says. he says it without thinking, as if the utterance is summoned by the sincerity of adrian's mourning.

"how are ya holding up? we could take a quick break— or i could quickly do the rest for you." noah smiles. "i don't mind."

Adrian Malcolm

"yeah, not as much as i used to, but i do. wanna share a beer, man?" noah moves to the fridge, his hand clutching the handle.

he opens it anyway. the warn light from inside shines outward, and the cold air clings to his limbs. noah searches for cans— and whether adrian's fridge is full or not.

"work's okay! still do cadet training on top if it all, but i get some freedom in picking hours." noah leans back, his dark hair swinging with his head. "are you thinking of challenging me?"

Adrian Malcolm

noah's hand finds the cold cans. pulling out two, he sets them on the kitchen counter as the iciness lingers on his palm. closing the door, he refrains from tossing them. he extends one to adrian with a wink, "you wish, buddy."

the gym leader cracks open his can. the satisfying sizzle accompanies a smidgen of froth tossed against the tab.

"could be cathartic though— if you win," noah says, bringing the can to his lips, "oh, wait. cheers, man." he tilts his beverage toward adrian: a challenge in the making.

Adrian Malcolm

after his can clicks with the other, noah joins in the chorus of glugs. with a satisfied breath, he sets the can on the counter.

adrian's response is vague enough. the gym leader leans in like a magnifying glass; however, the implication shrouds around their feet like red mist.

"i can help you, if you want, man" noah says. "bring it up to slateport pd, make things go faster if i can. unless you mean something else?"

his hand reaches for his can once more.

Adrian Malcolm