"yeah," parker says and adds, as nonchalantly as possible, "she's in kanto right now keepin' the peace or some shit for rocket." she tries not to think about it much especially after the good doctor Eva Morales's little stint over there in an attempt to start complete anarchy. at least she knows avery's okay. 

she gets texts every other day of various poses shithead's in. (shithead being her galarian meowth.)

nomi fidgets with her skirt and then turns awkwardly. parker is struck with a rather naughty intrusive thought and has to stop her hands from stretching out to yank nomi around the waist and back to her. 

holy fuck, i must be delirious from exhaustion.

the coffee ought to help. she frowns at the lack of cream. she likes her coffee white as the moon and twice as sweet. at least it'll still be drinkable with the sugar, but how did nomi know that?

"i didn't tell you this after we woke up, but i got this thing. i woke up with it." she tugs the metal chain out from under her shirt and fingers the ring. "didn' feel right to take it off. are ya, like, studying things like this?"

Naomi Sato

☉

cerulean lands on hers and a headache unfurls behind her eyes. she blinks and there is sweat in her eyes, almost tears - of laughter and nostalgia. this tide draws at her sinuses, drips down her throat, and by the time she's opened her eyes again, it's gone. 

she hacks the loogey up from her throat and then swallows with a grimace. happens sometimes from running. now, back to the matter at hand. 

"you little rat," she seethes. 

"ma'am."

"i've had a rough couple weeks and that shit right there." cue angry pointing. 

"ma'am." 

"'s all i've been dreaming 'bout so fuck off and get a blueberry bagel."

"MA'AM."

"what?" it is here and now that she realizes the rest of the store has gone completely silent. even the bagel maker in the bag has poked her head out of the kitchen and is staring curiously out front. 

parker's set jaw and angry gaze flickers from rat boy and over to the clerk, who actually seems pretty damn upset right now. (rightfully so, given it's rush hour and one unruly idiot has dropkicked the entire flow of service.) he narrows his eyes at her and goes to lower the tongs. 

no. not there. not in the bag. PLEASE.

and then, somehow, something worse happens. whether it's nerves or petty revenge, the tongs slip from his grasp. they skitter onto the ground and the zaatar bagel goes rolling onto, and then off of the counter, and onto the floor. where it lands in a small puddle of condensation from the drink machine. 

angelo vestri

☉

there aren't many places to sit. the couple of chairs in the room are sterile metal stools and aren't conducive to comfort. it's not like she came in expecting some plush couch to fall asleep on, but man is it weird that some of that nervous tugging in the back of her mind, the shit that's been keeping her awake, is just...gone.

nomi perks up at the question and parker starts backpedaling. 

"i'm no scientist, y'know that. sis says my handwriting even looks like a pidgey havin' a seizure so i can't even transcribe. nah, i gotta stick to punching things for ya."

she gives a playful one-two, her last tap brushing knuckles against nomi's shoulder. then she paces around the room, looking over the various instruments and tools and notebooks. 

"so, y'got coffee or do you only make mad science juice here?"

Naomi Sato

☉

yeah, she does kinda rock, doesn't she? sometimes she flexes in front of the mirror, but that's pretty much the only time she gives herself a pat on the back for her accomplishments. a few of her flings have told her she'd make hella money making gym videos, but it's not like she can really afford to plaster her face and her gym schedule for all of hoenn to see. 

not when a small percentage of its population has a (probably broken) bone to pick with her. 

she's confused, at first, at the lack of scratches following her uppercut to his face. then he explains and it makes her blink, pause, and then double over again in laughter. 

"and you rock too, lil' dude," parker says appreciatively and holds a fist out for duster. 

"ugh, fuck that felt so good. didja see the arm candy on him?" at this point, she's opened up the bar door and is waving isaac in, 'cause of course they're gonna have a drink together. she offhandedly orders something sweet for herself, but keeps the conversation going. 

"wanted t'punch him as soon as i saw those tits. it's a crime against god thinking his hands could get anywhere near 'em." underneath the uncouth jesting, she hopes blondie made it out okay. that she's not with with crusty, in the sense he's got someone to take out his losings on. 

she snubs her nose.

"gotta admit - didn't think we'd actually 'ccomplish the mission."

Isaac Merlo

☉

she thinks, weirdly enough, oh, i could sleep now. exhaustion rears its ugly head and reminds her just how tired she is, especially since she's still spinning from the teleportation. so she kind of blanks, unsure what to follow up with after her suave display of confidence. 

you get used to it. 

she's gonna have to disagree wholeheartedly on that. parker can barely stand heights. and teleporting is kind of like being up somewhere high, but worse. instead, it's being stuck in an in between place and - oh, gods, if she thinks about it, she's surely going to be sick. 

nomi gapes like a cod at her and her skin prickles. she wonders if she smells. she could have at least splashed water on herself or swiped more deodorant on her pits. granted, she had kind of panicked because of the eyeball, so that seems like a good enough excuse.

"mmmmyep. and you're really workin' in the lab." her gaze slips down her pastel outfit and then she looks away. "nice skirt. is that...you don't have an assistant, do you?"

what the fuck, parker?

Naomi Sato

☉

sweet arceus, it's happening. it's finally happening. through sleepless nights, she's fantasized about this bagel. hell, half of her had taken the damn job last night just because it was in lilycove. lady luck is on her side because there's only one more person in front of her and - 

NO. 

NO NO NO NO NO NO. 

and the way he says it! he'll take it off his hands. like there's not the World's Biggest Zaatar Bagel Fangirl standing right behind him. heat flashes over her face. she can't say anything. of course she can't say anything. 

except she looks at the back of his neck, the shape of him, and something familiar shoots down her spine. something warm and easy and comfortable. how the fuck do i -

"oi, you're the motherfucker that stole my granola bars. ain't no way i'm lettin' you steal my bagel too."

the person behind the counter pauses, zaatar bagel clasped in tongs, and looks past angelo, to parker, with a confused and crumpled expression. 

angelo vestri

☉

there is a thrill that comes with the chase. also, she's tipsy. so her escape isn't as graceful as it ought to be. she's brutishly shoving through people. chips are flying and people are yelling. she's laughing through all of it - so hard that her cheeks are hurting and her face is red.

fingers slip against a fire exit door. she throws herself down a flight of stairs. boots thud heavily on the bottom landing and she pauses for just a moment, breathing hard. above, about five security guards are still racing after her. 

she draws crux's ball from her pocket and lopes alongside the disaster pokemon. carmine eyes glow with future site and her gait lengthens, drawing parker to follow her around traffic, passersby, and any other obstacle that might impede their pursuers. most abandon their search early on, but she'd made enough of a ruckus to leave one determined guard to the chase.

eventually, she turns a corner and crux sits down, licking at a paw. parker doubles over, still grinning, now quite sweaty. she laughs, spits, and then straightens. the back of her hand serves as a towel for her forehead. 

crux shakes out his fur and stands, trotting off in another direction. parker follows; halfway to their destination, she remembers they have a rendezvous point and that's when crux noses to get put back into his ball. 

it doesn't surprise her to see the blond bartender waiting outside the bar. 

"holy shit, holy shit, man," she says as she approaches, raising a hand for a fist bump. "first of all, you rock. and second, fuck that guy. how'd he look, eh?"

Isaac Merlo

☉

the cute little face doesn't prepare her for the ungodly creepy eyeball that suddenly pops into existence at the foot of her bed. parker seizes with a swear, phone flinging out of her hand and into the wall. she scrambles to turn the light on, stares at the eyeball floating nonchalantly above her, and tries to focus on her breathing. 

i'm too fucking tired for this. 

and then, wait? was it here the whole time? because she'd done something else before trying to work out to fall asleep and if nomi's eyeballs could...could she have...seen?

no. no, even if she could, nomi wouldn't spy on her like that. 

"so what now, weirdo?" she asks the thing as she shimmies into her pants and slips on a jacket. the unown doesn't blink. or move. or do anything, which is arguably the worst thing it could do. 

and then, suddenly, the room pitches around her. if parker had eaten anything, it certainly would have come right back up. but as it stands, reality whooshes back up to her and her hands splay out over a metal desk, jostling glasses and other 'medical' instruments.

"that wasn't so bad," she says coolly to nomi, still looking a little green. 

Naomi Sato

☉

benchwarmers bagels. the B E S T bagel shop in hoenn. like, hands down, fuck you, get out. their steak egg and cheese? to die for. and that's not an exaggeration. because there ain't a whole lot of things out there that would get parker jones to haul ass at the crack of dawn to go to lilycove, from slateport, before the shop opens. 

okay, well, she got in last night. had to take care of some dirty work. so her knuckles are freshly bruised and she's only a little stressed. she's had trouble sleeping lately and those early hours of the night have turned to late hours in the morning. 

she's running because she's on her morning run, BUT SHE MEANT TO GET UP AN HOUR AGO AND FINISH THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE THEY OPEN BECAUSE THEY WILL RUN OUT OF THE FIRST FRESH BATCH REAL DAMN FAST. 

she almost cries when she sees the line outside. her stomach rumbles. sweat soaks the back of her muscle tee. she gets in line. and she stands in line for forty-five damn minutes. and she's only a few away. 

they have plenty of bagels left, but the one she's eyeing, the one she's been hankering for is dwindling. the zaatar bagel, with all its crunch and spice, perfect for the juicy steak and melted cheese. she's listening to the orders in front of her. she might actually be in the clear. 

fuck yes. 

angelo vestri

☉