another date. they've already gone through introductions. over intricate pastries and lacey fabrics, names or aliases are exchanged. elijah is not afraid to offer his real name—after all, it is written clearly on the front of his business card, an unkempt little thing detailing his slateport stall: gardner's garden.

"what brought you to the speed dating scene?" elijah asks, chewing on a morsel of fudge with his back molars. "you think you can find love in this frou-frou place?"

elijah pats his eldegoss on its head, its cotton a buddy's barrier.

wolfgang volkov 1/4

"sure."

elijah tosses a business card. one that advertises his apothecary stall in the slateport night market. mondays, wednesdays and fridays during the day. "gardner's garden" in rustic font. the number is printed underneath in woody-block letters, the grain of the bark emulated by white lines where the ink did not touch.

"just give me a call, i guess."

in one way, elijah considers the possibility out of duty. to be in bed with the head ranger may provide him with leverage. information.

in another way, he may be lonely.

Laurence Anderson 4/4

"oh? didn't expect that." elijah says of lars' answer. his eldegoss wades around, unaware of their springtime speech. "thought you'd be more the frigid type. never thought the head ranger would be so loose-lipped."

he snorts and steals a macaron from the table. leaning back, elijah kicks his shoes up on the table before throwing the pastry into his mouth.

"pretty good. you should try some. time's almost running out."

Laurence Anderson 3/4

elijah raises his nose above the fumes. against lars' blinking, the apothecary's eyes glint with the crystalline awareness of the other's position. his rep and name. lars' icy prominence overshadows his own, and thus, he decides to tuck his own nomenclature away.

"the embargo lift was real nice, but that's beside the point." his eldegoss looks around, yellow leaf-like cloak tugged in close below its airy, loose expression. "so laurence anderson. you fuck on the first date or what?"

Laurence Anderson 2/4

heavy footfalls announce elijah's arrival. behind him, an eldegoss follows with an elegant hover: a staunch contrast to the brute slouch he crashes onto his kalosian seat with. the apothecary's nose wrinkles. an eye cracks open, the bitter colour of his gaze flicking toward his "date".

"you think vaping's a good impression on the first date?" elijah says, timbre rough and coarse like clamberclaw cliffs.

he drapes his arm over the head of his chair, almost strangling it with the muscle as he sneers.

Laurence Anderson 1/4

DATE APPLICATION

Character: elijah gardner[break]
Age: 28[break]
Sexual Orientation: bisexual[break]
Pokémon: eldegoss[break]
Romantic or Business?: both[break]
Specific pairing request?: poggers people

confirming trade

:angrynoodles: hdu be a christmas qt Melody Miro!!!

elijah rubs both temples, the screws that hold his skull together also rolling loose. when he relinquishes his hands from sandwiching his brain, he can not help but notice the farmer's tan bryan also sports.

then again, elijah wonders if his has faded with all the time spent in the submarine during the colder months.

"i'm fine with that." elijah says to chu-e's proposition. "fistfight? why not?"

the apothecary bulldozes one hand over the other, cracking each mole-like knuckle. he cracks his neck too and swings its thick trunk from side to side.

"how about winner gets out of this whisper-whisper shit instead?" elijah says.

bryan delarosa Chu-e Choi

closing his eyes, elijah pinches the bridge of his nose to try and hold this collapsing, nonsensical world together. but the rubbing of rubber dino-teeth and dino-palate rubbing alerts him to his failure.

elijah opens his stern eyes to chu-e's smile— and the suggested blur of a bitten butt in the background.

"i can slap bryan." elijah says, eyes steadying on bryan's advance (if it has continued since the prehistoric pounce on his rear). "my compromise."

bryan delarosa Chu-e Choi

elijah's lips flatten. flat as the chests he sees all around him. slowly, his head lowers. the bridge of his nose secures itself against the notch of his fingers as he shakes his head.

"i'm not partaking." elijah says at the idea of some manboob asmr. "fuck no."

he backs up some. step by step. arms tight to his chest as if to guard them. briefly, he feels sorry for the plant witnessing this indecency. not that elijah was a saint— but he didn't want to be known as some pec patting patrick.

bryan delarosa Chu-e Choi

"so you'd be willing to do racey shit for a price?" elijah stares at bryan as he sets his bottle and plant on the table. "knew you looked familiar."

he shifts around the table, mindful of the ringlight looming above their camera. its intense glow is hot. uncomfortable. he wonders how poketubers can gorge upon hot wings and spicy noodles underneath the brutal heat of their setups.

"do you have an intro in mind, underboss?" elijah says flatly. "you're the main subject, yeah? need to whisper your name or some shit. think of a catchy way to open." he looks to bryan. "i dunno about you though. slap your boobs in the background or something."

bryan delarosa Chu-e Choi

elijah doesn't know why he agreed to this. not that he disliked asmr. occasionally, he'd listen to it. watch it. there were good channels out there featuring soft spoken beauties tending to their gardens or eating down bowl upon bowl of spicy ramen noodles. but to socialize in his free time? well, he knew he had to say "yes" once in awhile.

"i brought props." elijah ignores the flattery. he lifts up a lotad squirt bottle and a potted plant. "am i gonna be in the shot?"

bryan delarosa Chu-e Choi

elijah stops beating the blanket.

"sure."

his hand resumes for one or two more strikes as he watches priam move to the sofa, drawn by its somnolent gravity. an inevitable march.

"but just know i'm not gonna do this ag—" priam's already asleep.

sighing, elijah steps over to the sleeping boy. he casts his blanket over top, careful to avoid wrinkling in its thick body of fabric.

"good night." alone, he moves to a rickety old stool of wood. he squats on it, eyes shifting slowly from priam's slumbering shape to the rise and fall of gabby's chest.

priam conrad