[attr="class","sunshine"]Plank has to admit, things look kind of rough. A lot rougher than she expected from her opening moves.

The HURRICANE whips across the battlefield, sparing nothing on the field -- including Princess. The Seaking weathers the blow from behind her SUBSTITUTE decently enough, but when the EARTHQUAKE follows she finds her defense blown to pieces.

Already she breathes notably harder. Can't do that too many more times. Maybe a bit of setup can help turn the tides.

"Let's get the rain up and see if we can't mix 'em up!" she shouts. The Jellicent is already looking a bit scattered, maybe if Princess works some magic they can have the Swampert looking the same.

Princess darts off towards the bunched up opponents, hoping to move in behind the opposing Jellicent to get a clean SUPERSONIC off at the Swampert hiding behind it. At the same time, after shaking off the uncomfortable shivers that accompany the DESTINY BOND tying his soul to his opponent's, Grog begins to rhythmically sway while sliding towards the center of the battleground.

Small wisps of mist coalesce into rain clouds as the RAIN DANCE changes the weather immediately above the fight. Soon a drizzle is wetting the heads of the battling pokemon and turning the sand beneath them into a sticky mess.

[attr="class","sunshine"]The safari zone is different from the wild routes and uncharted caverns Plank is accustomed to. The pokemon she sees as she roams are equal parts interested and unconcerned with her presence. Some make their way up to her, others watch from afar, almost none of them make to aggressively respond when she walks by.

"Fuckin' weird," she murmurs, stepping around a Clobbopus sat happily in the sand.

Baby couldn't agree less. The beach setting has her wound up even more than on a normal outing and she finds the oddly behaved, "wild" pokemon very interesting. At least enough to scare a few -- startling them away with the gnashing of her teeth whenever they catch her attention.

[attr="class","sunshine"]Plank doesn't know how she got picked for this job. She is not happy she got picked for this job. It is boring and it's hot out and she hates it here. When they finally come to a stop she wastes no time finding some shade to camp under.

As she wipes sweat from her brow and neck she thanks whatever is out there that she cut her hair.

"My only gardener is busy," she pipes up when the question of pokemon to help is thrown out. Wright has gotten damn good at working with plants, but he's busy looking after her plants; and is oddly reluctant to leave the islet Plank laid claim to months ago.

The rest of the conversation mostly goes in one ear and out the other. She doesn't have any questions and as far as she's concerned that means she doesn't have to pay attention to the others who do. She's here to follow orders and leave. Though she does tune in when the irritated voice of the other woman pipes up.

"We're plantin' a tree," she answers unhelpfully, her own irritation seeping through with a side of immature, exaggerated condescension, "even I figured that out."

[attr="class","sunshine"]Plank's hands find easy homes in her pockets as she makes her way towards the raucous sound of people. Lots of people. Where the battle against Verdanturf's gym leader had been fairly casual, held in an honest to god gym with only so many eyes as were already there for one reason or another, apparently the one here in Sootopolis has a proper audience. It sends a little thrill down her spine.

Music isn't Plank's thing, never has been, but there's something about the tail-end of the gym leader's performance that strikes a chord with her. Nothing special. She isn't awed or emotional to behold it; but it's nice enough to get her blood pumping even harder. Maybe it's just the idea that she's going to need to keep the audience as entertained with their battle as they are with Miro's concert.

The greeting from the leader is met with a lazy wave from Plank, no words. It's not like she has a mic, too. Instead she makes it clear she can hear the gym leader's directions through action. Both hands dip into her pockets again before producing two pokeballs. She tosses them both into the ring.

Queenie, her Kingdra, and her Lanturn, Livewire, reveal themselves in two brilliant flashes of white. They offer nothing to the audience but their appearance as they float around one another, waiting to see what they'll be up against in the coming fight.

[attr="class","sunshine"]The Raichu starts to rise, hoping to mount some kind of counter-attack, but it's tired. The MUD SHOTS it took on its run-up compounded with the one it just took to the face have it feeling heavy. Its coat is caked with mud and the attacks have chipped away at its stamina -- leaving it a dirty, panting mess where it struggles just to stand.

"We don't play with our food Tom, knock it out before it can catch its breath!" Plank commands and Thomas obeys. He waddles up to the Raichu. The movement is less than graceful and far from fast, but the Raichu is in no shape to keep running around. All it can do is growl and send off weak sparks in warning. Neither deter its opponent.

Thomas is not prone to jumping away from harmless threat posturing.

One last MUD SHOT like an executioner's bullet lays the Raichu out. It still breathes, but this time its eyes stay shut. It does not move. A moment later it vanishes into a pokeball.

"Ready t' go when you are. Things are all done on my end," she says to Jonah simply, waiting for Thomas to carry the pokeball back to her. While she waits she shifts her attention to her partner's work. That Trapinch is pretty damn impressive. It's an unfortunate matchup for the Pikachu no matter what, but not every pokemon can work a crowd like this.

[attr="class","sunshine"]The feel of Wolfe's hand in her hair all at once makes it hard for Plank to breathe. For a second she freezes, stock still, before forcing herself to relax all at once. She fuckin' asked Wolfe to do this she can't make a fool out of herself now.

"Don't fuckin' care how ya do it, it just has t' go," she replies, more sharply than she meant to. She blows air out hard through her teeth, a quiet hiss that feels deafening in the awkward silence of the room.

"Sure, a few inches at a time, whatever," she amends. There's no apology for her previous tone, but the gentler way she speaks this time could come across as contrite.

[attr="class","sunshine"]The warning goes unanswered and unheeded. She takes a longer drink from the glass as she lets her eyes roam over the breadth of the club. It's suddenly clear that even if the cleanliness of the corner isn't intentional, the vantage it gives is.

Plank's eyes shift back to the anxious man when Gavin pulls attention to him again.

Her eyes turn to Gavin next. She fucking hates when he does this, she fucking hates the "how would you this" and "if it was you would you that". Why can't he just give orders. What does her input have to do with fucking anything?

"Uh, I dunno," she sighs, her exasperation at having been asked evident, "I would . . ."

She leans back into the plush seating of the booth and swirls the liquid in her glass. The sound of the ice rattling against the glass is nice. It was always her assumption people did this just to be annoying, or to fidget; but there is something to be said for the way keeping the action going in the background helps her structure her thoughts.

"Probably wait for 'im to make a move. Go t' the bathroom, slip out for a smoke. Harder for me t' do the first one 'cause, well, obviously."

She punctuates the "obviously" with a gesture from her hand. A waving over her everything.

"So I guess I'd wait for 'im t' step out for whatever reason. I could chat 'im up casually from there or do what needed doin' without makin' a scene."

[attr="class","sunshine"]Plank perks up at Theo's question. The word, that title, "Beast". It's the second time someone's floated it her way. The similarities between how Gavin and Theo think seem to run deep.

"Yeah," she answers, "ya could say that."

[attr="class","sunshine"]Both of Plank's pokemon look more comfortable with the rain wetting their scales. Livewire especially appreciates the cool water on her burned skin.

The sand grows thicker, stickier, in the rain. It doesn't mean much for her Lanturn who floats above it, but Grog looks more than a little irritated when he realizes there's now bits of sand sticking to him every time he moves. Plank isn't concerned about it though. The way the battle is going she doesn't think he'll have to put up with it for long.

The pair of IRON DEFENSES is a nice thought, but Plank isn't sure how much they'll actually do in the face of what she's planning.

"If he wants t' play hero, let 'im!" she shouts to her pokemon as the Empoleon shoves itself in front of its wounded partner, "Let's show 'im why it's better t' share the load!"

The air around Lanturn and Gyarados buzzes dangerously. Even from a distance Plank can feel the hairs on her arms lift up in response to the building static.

That buzz turns into sparks, and those sparks coalesce suddenly into lightning before arcing up into the clouds above -- from which they crash. One, two terrifying bolts homed in on their soaking, very conductive target.

Two THUNDERS beeline right for Empoleon.


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[attr="class","sunshine"]"I don't do a lot of assumin', but I've got a good feelin' here," Plank says with a smile.

She gives a low whistle at the sight of Rowan's pokemon. They're not quite what she expected from him. He seems kinda shrimpy, but this is an impressive pair of fighters he's got here. Nothing for her to worry about though. She feels pretty sure of that.

With two flicks of the wrist she lets her own pokeballs fly. A couple of flashes precede the appearance of her Seaking, Princess, and her Gyarados, Grog. They both shake themselves out -- happy to feel the sun on their scales.

Grog takes a moment to scan his eyes over the competition, an INTIMIDATING gaze sizing them up.

"Let's hope ya don't come t' regret that," she replies before nodding at her pokemon, "Let's get it goin'! hunker down and bring the storm!"

Taking advantage of their free turn, her pokemon jump into action. Princess moves towards the right side of the battlefield while Gyarados slips to the other. In preparation for what's to come she braces herself behind a SUBSTITUTE -- her stamina draining away as her scales turn to sequins and her eyes cloud over like a doll's.

Off to the left Gyarados makes to strike. He coils and uncoils himself in fluid movements, building wind that soon builds into a HURRICANE that bursts forth over the battlefield .

[attr="class","sunshine"]"Lucky me," Plank drawls. She wonders without direction how long it'll be before she can enjoy such privileges without being a bigger face's hanger-on.

"I don't drink," she finally verbalizes what was implied earlier, "but that don't mean I haven't seen people drink."

The statement ends where she leaves it. There's no desire to expand on what she means, this isn't a boat in Galar. She doesn't feel any kinship with the man sitting next to her -- nothing that would make her open up any more than strictly necessary.

When the drinks arrive Plank takes hers with some apprehension. Her fingers wrap around the small glass but she doesn't pull it to herself immediately. The cold sinks into her fingertips for a few moments as she just stares at it. Even Gavin's toast fails to spur her into action.

It's not until he speaks that she finally takes the plunge, lifting the glass's rim to her lips and tilting it delicately. Carefully.

She sips at the drink. It's not as bad as she expected. Maybe it's not as strong as what her father used to make himself. He always made drinking look so dramatic.

When Plank puts the drink back down on the table (a couple swallows emptier), she casually leans forward and looks off in the direction Gavin directed her to. The red of their target's shirt stands out like a sore thumb and doesn't do any favors for their complexion.

When they throw a furtive glance about the club Plank gets a peek at their face -- almost as red as their shirt, with the telltale flush alcohol brings after generous consumption.

"What now, then?"