[attr="class","spiral"]Anger is forgotten in lieu of confusion. Once again Plank expects a fight and instead gets a . . . really reasonable reply? Paired with some curveballs.

Is this guy really okay turning this hunt into a personal suicide mission? Why would Gavin care about what happens to this dude? What the fuck does "rock licker" mean?

These questions and more keep her too preoccupied to respond. Then suddenly they're moving faster and she doesn't really have the time to.

"Son of a bitch," she grumbles, gritting her teeth to push through the burn spreading from her arms and legs and up into her joints.

She hopes wherever they're going they drop into a room or something. Crawling through these vents is becoming less annoying and more impossible as their time doing it increases.

[attr="class","spiral"]"This'll be a short trip, I don't trust Jack t' watch the egg for long, but I wanted t' come back here 'n' I need t' know if you're good for anythin' but creepin' up on cryin' girls," Plank says simply as she pulls herself out of the water and onto the cavern's small shore.

As she pulls her goggles off her eyes and slides them into her sopping wet hair, behind her Thomas just kinda floats in the water. When she turns around to look at him he croaks lazily but makes no move to follow her lead and climb up onto shore. This is not a great start to his evaluation!

"Dude, ya gotta follow me. I'm your trainer 'n' I'm testin' ya!" she commands and he croaks again, "At least pretend t' care!"

At that Plank thinks he gives a slightly more distressed croak. It strikes her as theatrical.

"Whatever! I'm explorin' the cave whether ya come or not! I'll leave ya behind!" she shouts and her voice bounces off the dripping cavern walls. With a huff she turns and starts walking deeper into the Seafloor Cavern. Behind her there's a splash and then the slap of quickly waddling feet.

By the time she's entered the cave's tunnels there is a Palpitoad following obediently at her heels.

[attr="class","spiral"]Hull shifts and grumbles beside Plank as the Cacnea vents his frustrations, irritated at being left out. Plank whistles in mock amazement of the Cacnea's fury -- more amused than anything by the little pokemon's petulant rage.

It's less amusing when the anger is turned on her instead of some wild Gloom. Her eyes narrow for a moment as it raises its arms in her direction. Hull lowers himself so that his armored back and arm hang over Plank's small frame. They're both ready to teach the Cacnea what coming back for seconds on a full stomach does to you when it's recalled.

"No need t' be sorry, it's not a crime t' be spirited," Plank replies to the other trainer's apology, voice casual despite the moment of a tension a second ago, "Though ya better teach 'im how t' pick his battles. Never know when he'll get himself in too deep, otherwise."

Never know when you'll be a moment too slow with that pokeball and find your compatriot has turned into a corpse.

"Whether somethin' bites or not I'm sure he'll be ready t' fight again soon enough," Plank says in indirect answer to the other girl's offer. The implication being she'd be happy to be put in contact with the friend either way.

"Speakin' of, though. Hull, I think that guy is lookin' at ya crooked," she continues, patting her Golisopod on his arm where it still hangs protectively over her. His eyes snap to the mentioned target instantly. A Cacturne skulking a few feet away. Sure enough it's looking their way.

Again Golisopod dashes into battle, though this time his position draped over Plank leaves her stumbling to stay upright. He aims to make the same move he had against the Cacnea, a FIRST IMPRESSION that'll set the pace in his favor. But the Cacturne isn't in a blind rage like his last foe, and it doesn't lose track of his charging opponent.

It crosses its arms in front of it. When Hull's hand streaks in, hungry for a soft body, it instead scrapes up against spiked arms as hard as steel. A SPIKY SHIELD cuts his palm and does its best to dull the edges of his claws. But the Golisopod doesn't blink. Doesn't flinch. He's already coming in with the other hand.

A SUCKER PUNCH interrupts a PIN MISSILE counter -- and in the moment that SPIKY SHIELD is dropped and PIN MISSILE is firing Hull closes the distance between himself and his target. As PIN MISSILES strike against his body and ping off his armored carapace he sinks teeth into the space where the Cacturne's shoulder meets its neck.

The opponent falls limp against his arm and within his BUG BITE. A moment later Hull drops the wild pokemon to the ground. He's breathing a little harder, bleeding in a couple places, but still stands strong. Still looks hungry.

"Mind throwin' some of that healin' our way?" Plank asks, smiling a smug smile towards the other trainer.

[attr="class","spiral"]Oh no, Ozaki doesn't get to turn this around on her.

"Empathy 'n' kindness are all well 'n' good, but lettin' them get in the way of your fuckin' job is rookie shit!" Plank bites out, "If ya want t' get anythin' done in this line'a work, if ya want t' go anywhere, and if ya want your skin to stay where it's attached to your dainty li'l' body ya learn to put your job first 'n' your feelin's second!"

Plank's body is shaking with how tense it is, her voice an aggressive growl. The hand on the throttle, directing the rudder, is surprisingly steady; but her other clutches at her shorts. The smooth fabric twists between her fingers and pulls up over her knee.

"I'm not assumin' shit! I'm tryin' t' let ya in on the truths of this world we're in, but you're too dim t' clue in on when ya should shut up and listen," the words coming out of her mouth are borrowed. Dredged up from memory and thrown up out of anger. The hand wrapped in her shorts suddenly releases them to drag its way up her face and into her hair.

When the other girl explains her plan the hand drops before giving a non-committal wave.

"Whatever, let your bleedin' heart lead the way. If they cut our pay I'm cuttin' your portion; and if ya get caught I'm not helpin' ya get away."

[attr="class","spiral"]A part of Plank wants to bristle at what she reads as casual mockery. At the blasé way Ozaki brushes over her discomfort. Another wants to commiserate. Six years, that's about as long as she's been at it. Longer depending on who you ask.

But the topic is lost to the new subject of discussion. Plank's face tightens along with her stomach this time, listening to the Porygon's soft sounds of content. Plank's teeth gently pinch the inside of her bottom lip for a moment before she speaks.

"Of course it does," she replies matter of factly, "Nothin' in this world thinks it's goin' anywhere good in a cage."

Her voice grows a bit more strained, "Nothin' ya ever move in this business wants t' go where it's goin'. I thought ya weren't green?"

There's accusation and the beginning notes of genuine irritation and bitterness in her words.

"So what?" she asks, "I let ya run off before we get there with your li'l' prize and tell 'em I didn't think t' double check the request or pat ya down before ya left or . . ."

Frustration and condescension enter the mix. Anxiety, barely hidden underneath everything else -- mostly secondhand. But still the continued, conspicuous absence of a direct refusal.

[attr="class","spiral"]Plank takes a careful breath (in, out) before putting on another smile. Less genuine than her last, but with the intention of communicating comfort. Confidence.

"No problem then," she says, "Anythin' I should, uh, be keepin' especially in mind? Am I just tellin' 'em what we've got 'n' supervisin' the exchange? Or what?"

Her pockets bulge and sag intermittently as the fingers in them wiggle and twist and grasp at fabric. Jack begins to nibble at Plank's ear and increase his hushed chattering. He's always been good at seeing right through her.

[attr="class","spiral"]Her teeth clench before popping open with a "tch" from her tongue.

"Yeah, well looks can be deceivin'!" she growls, the vent echoing her voice for a second after she's clicked her teeth back together. She already doesn't want to be in this fucking vent, she's not going to be condescended to while she's stuck here.

Especially not by the know-nothing idiot who got her wrapped up in this. So he knows this thing is shooting at him but not why, not what it is, and probably not how to deal with it if they find it. Yeah, this guy doesn't get to call her anything.

Plank quietly steams as they take a turn. Thinks about how much her limbs are starting to ache and how holding her jaw like this is probably going to give her a headache and how stupid this all is.

"Or ya poke the bear 'n' it fuckin' mauls ya," she counters.