[attr="class","spiral"]The response gets a nervous laugh out of Plank. The other man's words are as featureless as they've been since she walked through the door, but that almost sounded like a joke. Like a toddler who's learned others smile when they pull faces, Plank goes in for seconds.

"If ya make a habit of letting sloppy operators like Pops hang around, I dunno how long the rumors of your death will hold," she throws out, much more overtly playful than her conversation partner. For the first time her hands leave her pockets as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

A bit of blood from her palms smudges against her sleeves.

"Not t' worry, though," her smile still quivers on the corners, quietly anxious, "I'll burn the records that led me t' your doorstep. Or you t' mine, I guess."


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[attr="class","spiral"]Route 103 is apparently a hot spot for fishing, but Plank can't see why. It's hard to get a ship past the rocks so you have to come here on your feet and sit on the shore; and what's fishing without a shifting boat under your butt?

Sitting on solid, unwavering land puts a damper on everything. Not even letting her feet splash in the water helps alleviate the feeling of boredom that's overcome her. Especially since splashing just scares off the fish.

"Bilge! Keep searchin'!" she shouts into the water at her Croconaw.

That's one boon of this whole thing -- she can put Bilge to work like she promised she would! Though it's only a momentary pleasure that occasionally breaks up the monotony.

Plank stops kicking her feet to try and fish proper, but within moments she's already getting restless again.

[attr="class","spiral"]The Spheal vanishes into her pokeball with as little protest as he put up at her pestering. So that's something, at least.

"Yeah, figure I do," Plank responds to Chloe's question with a smirk, "You've made things a good deal easier and a great deal more eventful -- so thanks for that or whatever."

She gives the woman a nod and another flash of a smile before pocketing her latest catch and planting two fingers in either side of her mouth. A sharp whistle tears through the air a second later, pulling Mama's attention away from her splashing playmate and to her trainer. She gives a curious tilt of her head and a trill.

"C'mon then, we got fish t' catch girl!" Plank calls and Mama comes rushing up to The Vagabond before hopping into her. Plank gives the Vaporeon a couple pats on the head before directing her to lay down toward the front of the boat.

"I'll be seein' ya! Or not!" Plank gives one more wave to Chloe before unhitching her boat from the shore and, without ceremony, flipping the engine on and riding off into the deep waters.


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[attr="class","spiral"]A few of Plank's nails finally bite into skin at the man's smile. The mild sting of a shallow wound exposed to salty sweat helps keep her sharp. She doesn't flinch this time or step back.

What's the point? In the silence that hangs between them it's hard to miss the sound of the door latch.

So instead she licks her lips and takes a step forward. Not a big one, but not a stealthy one either. If she's going to be stuck in here she can't just keep running. If she's going to die here it won't be with her back exposed.

"If they didn't wanna be found I figure they should'a done a better job hidin'." she replies, for the first time managing to keep her voice steady and even. Though when she takes her next breath it's still shuddering, and her now bleeding hands are still shaking too much to reveal.


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[attr="class","spiral"]It's silly, the things a young mind takes for granted.

To Plank, it had seemed obvious that she was coming here to deal with Team Rocket. That all the shadowiness of their interactions was handled already after the summons here. It hadn't crossed her mind that maybe there was risk still involved. That there were other things this meeting could be.

When the man across the room from her asks his question, though, the tilt of it sends a chill down her spine. The smile that pins up the corners of his mouth. She squirms.

"Uh, well," her mouth feels dry as momentary uncertainty grips her, "Ya know . . ."

A concern hits her that maybe she isn't supposed to know the answer to this question. That maybe she'd learned too much in her hunting and maybe answering honestly here will get her in some kind of trouble. Her nails struggle to catch and scratch at her palms but can't find any purchase through the film of sweat coating them.

Then she remembers that note. Inside her locked apartment. If she's in trouble, if knowing what she knows is a danger, then the price of that knowledge is going to find her either way.

"I want in t' . . ." for a moment her bottom lip slips between her teeth and is ground between both rows, before being freed scraped but not bleeding, "I heard ya were wiped out, but I want in t' Rocket! That's what ya are, right? A Rocket?"


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[attr="class","spiral"]The job has Plank in a more reserved mood than usual, but being called "Captain" for the second time still sends a warm rush through her system. It's hard to resist the urge to crack a smile. She manages nonetheless.

"Best ya do," she says instead. A moment later she turns around properly, winding the now untied rope around her arm in practiced loops. While she does this she watches Ozaki walk over and uncover their charges for the evening. Her gut twists a little at the startled noises they make, but she grits her teeth a little and the feeling passes.

The last time she let empathy get in the way of this job she was truly a child and she'd regretted it.

That said, Plank appreciates Ozaki's soothing words to the poor Porygon. They're lies of course; but at least they put the pokemon at ease enough that they stop making such a distracting racket.

"Sure enough," she responds to Ozaki's observation, again struggling against the urge to grin, "We better get goin'. I'm sure the client's waitin'. Find a place t' sit, don't care where."

As she gives her instructions Plank tosses the now coiled rope onto a bench and sits herself down in the back of the boat. Out of necessity, seeing as the motor and the throttle are both there. Before she flips the engine on she looks down into the water.

"Again! Boys, Baby, keep the waters clear!" she calls down; and again her pokemon surface to offer their own individual signs of affirmation before vanishing into the depths again. Under the water they circle the boat, occasionally visible as shadows passing beneath the meager waves.

[attr="class","spiral"]Mama is an older girl, and with her age has come a more reserved and considered temperament for the most part. That said; after a couple battles her heart is racing and her blood is up and she's more than up to a bit of rough housing with the other Vaporeon.

Lilly gets the upper hand by making the first move but Mama is no slouch. They roll into and then within the water a few times before Mama starts fighting for the advantage. She swats with her paws and BITES with her fangs playfully, but insistently. Strategically.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Plank responds to Chloe's apology casually, "I need her calm once we're on the water, best she get it outta her system now."

Mantyke isn't the only friendly pokemon to wash up on shore in all the chaos. A Spheal floats lazily along the water, buoyant body bobbing along its surface. When it bumps against the Vagabond, Plank peeks over her shoulder to look into the disturbance.

"You another vandal come t' fuck with my boat?" She asks the baby-faced pokemon. It responds with a couple slow blinks of its eyes and a yawn. It seems more eager to catch some REST than kick up any trouble. In fact, it's nodding off as Plank looks it over. Soon it's gently snoring against the ship's hull.

"Hey, I gotta shove off soon ya can't --" Plank protests, poking at it, but to no avail. It's out like a light. Well, no other recourse then, is there? She reaches under her seat for a pokeball before bopping the boy on the head. Or body? Hard to tell with Spheal.


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[attr="class","spiral"]Plank peers over her lifted legs at the other girl, more a woman actually. The two somethings in her hands and the directness of her introduction tells her she's probably her partner.

"Ahoy," she responds, dropping her legs and groaning as she sits upright and stretches her back. There's a series of pops and cracks from her back; and then again from her neck as she twists it this way and that.

"C'mon, climb aboard," Plank demands simply, waving the woman (Ozaki, at least that's the name she offers) forward as she goes from sitting to standing. While her partner boards the Vagabond, Plank goes to the back end of the ship to undo a rope securing them to shore.

"Don't spit on my ship, don't litter in or outta my ship, and stay focused while we're workin'." she says all this while facing away from Ozaki, and upon turning to look her in the face continues, "And you're not my first mate. That's Jack, but he's not feelin' well today. You'll do in the meantime, though."

Once she's done speaking she nods towards the rattling cargo Ozaki brought on with her. A silent question.

[attr="class","spiral"]All he does is lean forward and it's hard for Plank to hold her ground. There are feet between them but the moment his fingers come together and his body stretches forward she takes the smallest of steps back.

She scoffs at his accusation, a petulant act of defiance.

"I," she wants to shoot back a snappy retort, but stumbles when she comes up short on words, "I, only, only because I couldn't find ya first!"

Her hands ball into tight, slick fists in her pockets. Fingers slide against palms as she gives her head a quick shake.

"Whatever! It's not important. I'm here t' tell ya I want in!" she wills the stutter out of her voice, but there's still a restlessness to it. She's not taking full breaths and it leaves her words at the tail-end of her statements breathy. Insubstantial.

"I want my Pop's work!" she continues after hardly a catch breath; what could be a bold demand falling out in an uneven, ugly heap of too-fast syllables.


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[attr="class","spiral"]No sooner does Plank stride so boldly into the room than her nerves catch up with her. She has to shove her hands deep into her pockets to hide their shaking and has to put a lot of work into schooling her expression. She does her best to force it into an irreverent scowl.

With everything in her fluttering heart she tries to keep her mouth twisted and her eyebrows knit together; even as her lips try to tremble and her forehead starts to sweat.

On the upside, her opening gambit seems to have done its job. The man she assumes she's meant to meet seems caught at least a little off guard. Caught mid-bite and probably not as dignified as he'd like to, if his clean-cut appearance is any sign.

Still, it hardly seems to trip him up. Unlike Plank who is struggling to remain what little composure she put together; the other man seems to settle easily back into a place of authority.

There's no irritation in his voice when he speaks, and that's a problem. The bass of his voice stretches lazily across the space between them and reclaims the momentum she'd tried to establish. Control of the situation settles back almost completely in his lap.

"Well," she has to lick her lips and swallow to keep her voice steady, "I've never seen the point in keepin' t' customs; and I don't wait for nothin'."

As she speaks she straightens up further, arching her spine back just a little bit and tilting her head off to the side. Her arms stretch as they work to keep her hands deep in her pockets even as her body lengthens.

She's shooting for confident punk, but it's hard to know how genuine it's coming across with her heart and mind racing.

[attr="class","spiral"]"Well, go on then!" Plank replies to Chloe's insistence, waving one hand while pocketing her newly caught Pokemon with the other. It's only natural Chloe would want to get a battle in herself -- who wouldn't after watching her and Mama tear it up? Plank steps into the boat while the older girl engages the wild pokemon.

Still, itt's getting to be about that time. Plank splits her attention between the fight Chloe and her Vaporeon are putting up and one last check of her supplies.

The cooler is where they put it down in the middle of the boat, her lunch is tucked under one of the seats, her fishing pole is where she left it. Engine is full. Good! With everything in order, Plank turns back to the battle.

"Keep it up, now!" she shouts from the ship as Chloe's Vaporeon hits the sand tangled in spider web. She gives a little "whoop" when the pokemon breaks free and dives back into action. That's the way!

"There ya go! Give 'em the one-two!" Plank's rowdy tone only increases in volume and energy as the fight nears its conclusion. The HYDRO PUMP is especially impressively done and earns a couple claps alongside a few more hollers. Very well done! The captain is impressed!


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[attr="class","spiral"]Plank lays sprawled out across the width of the Vagabond, head hanging over one end (arms extended along the edge) and ankles crossed over the other. Her eyes are locked on the sky -- mostly purple, with a gradient of orange in the distance that fades more and more as the sun moves to hideaway below the horizon. It's beautiful but that's not the kind of thought dominating her mind.

Her eyes are glassy as they look beyond the scenery. She's thinking not about the touching sight, but the path they're going have to take in the water. The obstacles they can expect. What to do if trouble shows itself. Plank may be a smuggler seasoned beyond her meager years; but no mistakes can be allowed on this job and that makes her anxious.

She's still technically a grunt proving herself, and she'll be damned if she gives anyone reason to worry just a couple missions in.

"Boys, and Baby, ya need t' be sharp tonight -- ya hear me?" Plank seemingly warns the air. When her team's heads surface from the water, two fish and a Croconaw, though it becomes clear who she was addressing. They give various sounds and gestures in reply, but they all seem to be recognizing the order.

"Good. Now we jus' need the cargo. Takin' its sweet time gettin' here . . ." She complains, sitting up a bit so she can look past her feet to the shore. The ship is tucked off to the edge of the beach, a secret little strip of sand hidden by a twist of land.

It's a smart place to lay anchor for a job like this, but Plank can't help worrying her unknown partner coming with the cargo might be too dim to find it. She picks a bit at her ratty sweatshirt and gives her flip-flops a flap to chase that anxiety away. Team Rocket may be pushed underground but there's no way they employ those lacking in wits that badly.