"A job well done truly, it's been a pleasure working with you both."

This would change the course of history, an untold amount of lives would be affected and for the better. Miles needs a win like this for all the darkness that's come out of Rocket. He enters from the bay door spying the bottle in Lulu's hands. Seems like I've been beaten to the punch!" He reveals a second bottle bearing a grin all the while. It was rare Miles found himself this excited, but if there was anything to find passion in this certainly was it.

"That said, I'm certain no one here minds an extra bottle." He'd move toward the two facing the creature they'd all had a hand in creating.

" Well my friends there's no time like the present. After you Oscar."

It's dangerously close to midnight and the oil has all but finished burning. It was a day as productive as it was long and while his mind continued to turn, weariness had long since crept into Miles' bones. All the lower-level scientists and peons had long since retired for the evening. It'd been a rare opportunity to work side by side with Lulu. The two, over the months since their first meeting, had become colleagues - Miles would even dare to say half-decent ones if only for the work ethic they shared.

He combs through what he then decides is the final file for the evening massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Let's call it, Lulu, I understand that you may not need sleep, but we both need a meal." Though meals on the sub barely registered as such.

In one hand are flowers in the other an umbrella. He's reminiscent of a scale ready to dip at any point to fall into an abyss of his own creation, but for now, the scale is stable. He watches for a moment complex emotions washing over him more than the rain ever could. He's swift in his movements, but silent in his approach. The woman would find herself pelted by the storm no longer, he'd take her place in this, the umbrella would find itself over her head. It is, in his eyes, the least he can do.

He's worse for wear, even under the shadows of his hood one could see bags and bruises alike if only in half measure. Truly the state of his body is deplorable, and so he's chosen to hide as much of it as he can.

"Hey...I" He pauses unclear on what exactly to say, And so he determines actions are more suitable.

Slowly with his free hand, he removes his coat revealing himself to the woman beaten and all. Cuts and bruises adorn him purple and black contrast against his dark skin.

There's worry on his face, "You shouldn't have waited in the rain, not without an umbrella at least You'll get sick."

Hours later he begins to stir. Vibrations from his pocket only accelerate the process. A glance at his phone reveals the girl who simultaneously haunts and blesses him with her being. He hesitates allowing the phone to pulse in his palm again eyes focused not on the device, but on the pokeball that'd rolled out of his grip in his sleep.

He's running out of opportunities now, in the beginning, the calls were constant in the time since they'd slowed significantly, another mark of pain he'd caused her over the course. Another pulse and he steadies himself best he can. When the final pulse a finger swipes and he answers on reaction.

The phone comes to his ear.

Hey Stormy, there are things I want to tell you." His voice is as wispy as his throat is dry.

"Things about me you deserve to know. I'll be at the cemetery on the outskirts of the pass. Whenever you get a chance."

The line empties.

How many nights of this had it been? His body is folded amidst trash hidden in a Rustboro alleyway. Whether it's a lack of will or an overdose of pain the man is unable to determine, but in the moment he can't move. Glass eyes focus on the moon through the narrow slits the alley provides. He peeks through fire escapes and evening lights from apartments far out of reach. Droplets of rain begin to fall a premonition of what was to come, even so, Miles remains still.

He can't help but remember a time so similar to this. It's a hazy memory, but pieces he can still recount. Here in this city before it'd gotten so complicated. He's younger then, focused on the present, and all the selfishness that entails.

-----------------------

An argument escalated into a street fight and so the Lavaridge native had been forced into a 3 on 1. A testament to his pigheadedness more than any idea of strength and thus he'd ended up splayed against a dumpster. For all the pain his body felt he doesn't seem to mind. Around him, two of the three attackers lie unconscious the third had managed to run and Miles hadn't the strength to chase. Still, he was in no condition to move and so he'd wait. More concerned with how he'd explain his injuries to the university in the coming days.

And he has.

“I suppose I couldn’t keep my boyish charm forever.” He plays into it, no longer was he that student so selfish though traces of him remain sprinkled carefully throughout his person.

“I have my days certainly, but I’ve been on the uptick I think as of late.” Now that she’s arrived he pours himself a glass.

“I trust your tastes haven’t changed? I remember you downing a bottle and a half over the course of graduation day, if memory serves.” His way of offering a glass.

Miles had spent a little over an hour and a half attempting to decipher the report from route 113 or rather the nature of that particular excursion's spoils. However, whoever penned the document surely was as far from an author as one could be. After what he felt was more than a fair amount of time trying to gather some base of an idea from the piece Miles gave up preferring to call one of those who'd participated in the mission to the office. That said everyone involved was either off base or in the ICU, everyone excluding the wordsmith himself.

Miles had heard many things about Priam Conrad, most of which had been Lulu Flint's various accounts of him, and so Miles was hesitant to call the man in. Still, the mission had been successful largely in part to Priam's efforts and so he'd attempt to keep an open mind. After all, everyone had their talents Priam's simply wasn't writing, or uh...logic by Lulu's assessment.

Thus he's portioned off this hour of the day to discuss the happenings of the mission and any observation's the cobalt-haired man made over the course of the job. All he needed from his fellow rocket at this point was to arrive.

"It does."

Miles moves closer to the tree now inspecting it first hand.

"Hardy, full of life. - It's small, but brings the best out of everything surrounding it." He continues circling the three before slowly deciding to place a hand against the bark wondering about the sensation's the tree may deliver. "I'd say that sounds like a certain friend of mine, no?" He teases first, "After all I would never have made it this far without him." There's a gracefulness about his words masking slight hesitation.

"Chu-e why did you join Rocket?" He chooses blatancy. It's clear that the underboss is a foreigner to Hoenn, and like all the others who'd come from Kanto he figures the topic isn't one he cares to broach. Their time in the indigo had broken all of them in different ways. One needn't look further than Cillian Quinn or THEO BECKETT to prove that point. Chu-e, he knows, is no exception. Even so he wishes to learn, to understand not only Chu-e's goals but those of the organization as a whole. Miles was searching for something clear, something concrete He was a scientist after all.

Regardless, he'd wave his superior forward to feel the base as well if he cared to before revealing a scalpal from his pocket and excising a small piece of bark from its trunk inspecting it.

For Shiv (Looking to see:)
If the tree responds to being peeled,
What the inner bark reveals if anything
What the tree feels like to touch.

He returns to Lavaridge what must be days later. Body bruised and mind broken. Everything blends together now and he's no better for it.

The click of the door reveals a home just as he, As they'd left it. It's messier than he generally kept it. They were in a rush to leave and so things were thrust around. Stained glasses from the night prior sat on the coffee table alongside bandages and gauze all of which were off-kilter, a testament to the festivities of the night prior,

For all the mess it looks lived in. In this now icy room there'd once been life, life it hadn't seen in years outside of the past three months.

He moves through the house in silence, the creaking floors echo against its walls leading him deeper into the living room. Tired eyes scan the territory; memories of their first night pierce through like sunlight through translucent petals. He remembers how they'd danced. He'd counted his steps to the keys and melodies as they waltzed in a ballroom far too small for two. The clarity of the horn and steady rock of the drums echo in the recesses of his mind for what could be minutes.

These are a few of my favorite things...

No longer did the sun's rays meld through the glass door, Today only ash-covered gray skies existed as far as the eye could see. Why was he here? Another question without an answer.

He passes through the memories walking to a photo. He's no older than 17 that rebellious glint in his eyes, the one that all teenagers have at some point. His mother's arms, fragile, as they wrap around him. In her eyes, there's pride, why? he still cannot understand. For all his faults for all the pain he'd caused her, for all his failures his mother only had love for him.

Would she now?

He wanders to the screen doors thinking on the lies he spoke unintentional as they were and how right she was.

"Miles you barely know me."

The words haunted him over the days, but in this chapel of memories they wer particularly poignant, so much so he can almost see her in that black dress under that starless night. What she'd feared had come to pass for all the bravado he'd shown in the moment.

Only is it then that he spies it, a pokeball unfamiliar as is the sticky note right beside:

I know that this is super ridiculous of me, to celebrate three months of seeing you like I am....

but you've become really important to me! I definitely didn't break in or anything to leave this behind for you to find and I locked the door behind me when I left(you should really be more careful!)

Anyway, as you can see, I'm a terrible note-writer(see back)

But I just need you to know that you mean a lot to me and all that mushy stuff. Thank you for everything!

Happy 3 months, Miles
I love you!

Whatever's left empties and with the pokeball in hand he falls against the wood floor and he weeps.

He weeps until sleep consumes him.

He weeps because there's no pain like hurting the one you love.

There aren't many that Miles trusts. Even fewer since he'd began his stint in Rocket. The jury was out on Aria Collier, but he was willing to take a chance, his old friend deserved that much.


And She was a friend certainly,  they both shared a thirst for knowledge and held enough prowess that eventually the two found each other however many years ago it was. Her path for all intents and purposes was straight forward not unlike @eliz. She was a woman of fact more than any faction, and so while he wouldn't volunteer information about his own, he believed enough in her love of discovery to take a chance on what he had to offer with no question's asked.



He order's a bottle for the table placing her taste from various dinners that felt like they'd taken place a lifetime ago.



When she arrives he stands for a brief hug and a smile, it's more than most would get.



Dr. Collier, how long has it been?" He teases.

For the last several months Chu-e had graciously donated portions of his time to Miles to help his research, in that Miles had learned many things primarily about mega evolution and coincidentally about the nature of strength, both Chu-e's and his own. In fact, Miles had unlocked the secrets of Mega evolution himself over the course. Miles had much to thank the underboss for despite how little he knew about the upper-tier rocket. He knew that terms of his and Leon Vercetti's relationship were murky at best, that the man had the largest affinity for cats he'd ever seen, and was Cillian Quinn's most trusted ally. perhaps in the entirety of rocket. He knows the man for all his oddities and idiosyncrasies is fair and is not to be taken lightly despite the fact his phone was filled beyond the brim with memes most of which had to deal with the felines he loved so much.

He was strong, graceful, funny, and cruel all in equal measure. But how he came to be this way, How Chu-e was built still alludes the scientist despite the rapport they've built. Choi's seen much of Miles since that meeting all those months ago. No longer was he packed in the starter labs with tens of other grunts, no he was one of the two head scientists now. With teams of researchers serving him at any given point. He had a personal lab and a full office and with it many more projects to attend. Chu-e had seen it all and once again Miles cannot deny how grateful he is to his fellow rocket.

It's one of the reasons why he's chosen something different today. Today was a day of study, a means in which Miles could thank the underboss for all he'd done for him.

"Here's the latest project I've been studying. I'd like your insight because the nature of this particular problem because it reminds me of you Chu-e."

Lab doors would slide open revealing the tree so carefully placed in a flourishing biome leagues beneath the sea, what was once manufactured seems to have become natural in its time here, as if the tree had helped the life surrounding it grow beyond measure.

Miles had yet to truly begin unlocking the secrets of the tree but today he would start, with Chu-e at his side.