Yoshiro wrinkles her nose in faint distaste at the appearance of an Impidimp from the tall grass, the diminutive creature darting about her boots to pull Hoshiko's tail. Even as the fox pokemon puffs up in shrill indignance, its master glances once in the direction of Georgette, and - once determining the other woman is already occupied in coaxing the Cleffa, simply punts the offending imp back into the tall grass, little more than a waning shriek evidence of the transaction.

Her shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug should the other trainer turn around to look, Yoshiro intones smoothly, "That makes sense." And then, finally deigning to bend down and scoop up Hoshiko, the Zorua tucked in the crook of her arm well out of wild pokemon reach for the time being, "He will choose the time when he is ready, I suppose."

Georgette Bluebottle

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It is not by circumstance that Yoshiro finds herself back in the Safari Zone, hands tucked in her pockets as she wanders through the tall grass, Torao at her side. It's a good evening for it, the froakie croaking in the reeds, the soft droning of combee in the distance. Just on the cusp of spring, when it's warm enough to venture out without layers and cool enough to be in joggers.

Not paying much mind as they skirt around a series of tall, fallen stones and into the trees, she keeps her eye on the path ahead - curious to see what the eve will bring.

yoshiro shioda

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Removing a carton of cigarettes from her interior jacket pocket, Yoshiro taps one out and places it between her lips, doing a cursory check for a book of matches. She strikes one with a practiced motion, inhaling deeply of smoke once the cigarette is lit, and exhales politely to the side, though she does ask before replacing the carton, "Would you like one?"

"Security," Yoshiro answers in a smooth cadence, careful where she steps as she and the Zorua pass by the PROBOPASS in the tall grass with little regard for it. "Businesses, banks, the occasional celebrity."

If her timbre grew a little fond on that last note, who would notice? She didn't.

"What caught your interest in ice pokemon?" she inquires politely thereafter, narrowly avoiding having her bootlaces pounced upon as they walk. "He's doing well. We've been training him for protection work in the off hours."

Georgette Bluebottle

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Yoshiro rolled her shoulders loosely once the announcement concluded, allowed her arms to fall slack at her sides if only for an instant before she closed her hands into fists, an action which pulled at the butterfly tape upon her knuckles. Dark eyes swept over their surroundings - the illusory night market - as it flickered to life in a rush of colour and sound, a cursory scan for incoming threats, but also those areas that would allow the most protection should they encounter them.

A low, ominous rumble sounded from Torao at the sudden appearance of the cityscape, holograms venturing too close to them for his comfort, though he soon settled, errant wisps of smoke coiling from the edges of the half-mask muzzling him. Unclasping it from about his skull, Yoshiro fastened it to his harness for safe-keeping, allowing him free reign to RETALIATE should anything hostile enter their space.

"I brought Tatsuo as well," she confided to The Fixer as Torao started to prowl in a slow circuit around them, following the movement of the other groups as they selected their own vantage points. Her comrade in arms should be familiar enough with the little dragon. "If we end up needing a shield."

A soft snort emanated from her as she tacked on, "And Hoshiko."

Hoshiko, who he had only seen before as ornamental, far more accustomed to being carried around their brand of underground scene like a treasured housepet than utilized for any sort of violence - though, to be fair, she had the broadest mean streak of any of Yoshiro's pokemon by far.

"Where did you want to post up? Stage offers us less room to move, but we're also less of a target. Beach or the lighthouse - the opposite."

+ Discussing vantage points & Pokemon with The Fixer + Arcanine is out

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"More or less," Yoshiro answered in an idle fashion, tattooed hands sliding into her pockets and a twitch to the corner of her lips as she observed Hoshiko's abrupt course correct, the little fox pokemon quite gleefully romping after a lumbering Coalossal in the tall grass. Her dark eyes squinted briefly as the Zorua TORMENTed the much larger beast, which soon disappeared further off. "Hoshi! That's far enough."

Another series of leaps and bounds carried the impudent little thing back, Hoshiko twining between the woman's feet as she made her way down the road alongside Georgette. Careful where she placed her boots so as not to step upon a paw or tail, Yoshiro nonetheless halted abruptly at the sudden appearance of FAKE TEARS, the Zorua's eyes wide and watery as it looked up at her.

"That doesn't work on me," she confided, bumping the little fox with the side of one shoe, at which it promptly collapsed upon the road in a fit of drama. Continuing to walk alongside the Kalosian woman, the yakuza called over her shoulder without looking, "If you don't get up, I'll let Tatsuo sleep on my pillow instead."

Tiny pawpads can be heard behind them soon after, as well as a pronounced huff of offense.

"So what do you do for a living?" Yoshiro inquired conversationally after a few minutes, dark eyes settling on Georgette with the question.

Georgette Bluebottle

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For a beat or two, long enough for the silence to be noticed by those around them, Yoshiro remained still and quiet, her countenance impassive. But then the corner of her lips twitched up in response to the jest, a low sound of mirth emanating from her chest, and she bumped the side of his arm with the side of her fist in an almost brotherly fashion.

"I'll have to start practicing my dragons for next time - wouldn't want you to be disappointed when it's your turn." There was her own manner of levity there, found by those who knew her well enough to look for it, the watered steel of her voice smooth at the edge. "Maybe a little Haxorus. Just for you."

It looked as if she had more to say about future employment, but as the announcement sounded and the Porygon-2s started to zip about, Yoshiro tilted her head and listened, one tattooed hand falling back to the hilt of her katana as she settled into an easy sort of wariness. Say what one will about Shioda, she was very good at her job - both the criminal one, and otherwise, and there was little use in jeopardizing either enterprise at a whim.

Or upsetting Amber, if she should disappear again.

The Focus Band went on. That would be that.

With a cursory check of her tamahagane, only an inch or two of shimmering metal revealed and only for an instant, Yoshiro re-sheathed the blade and lifted her chin in assent toward The Fixer. A last scan of the room made, she asserted, "Not the worst odds we've ever taken. You remember the Machamp gauntlet?"

Concurring with the man beside her, she addressed chryssa glasgow , "Perhaps another time, once I've had the opportunity to see your work firsthand. I wish you fortune and glory, nonetheless."

+Focus Band ON +Team The Fixer and yoshiro shioda +Pokemon: Arcanine, Jangmo-o, Zorua

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Yoshiro did not comment upon his first statement, but the taut muscle in her cheek said enough. Nonetheless, she neither protested his pilfering of one of her imported cigarettes, nor her matchbook, printed with the address and number of the cover business for one of Hoenn's few truly decent underground clubs. Her dark eyes read him, discerned something about him that said that there was more than the tightly wound anxiety, more to the sharpness revealed when pushed too far.

Not many had historically chosen to stand up to her, whether knowing or unknowing of her affiliations. The last had been Botan, and she had offered him a job.

"You have more spine than half of Slateport," is all Yoshiro answered, the neatly-folded bills tucked back into her pocket as if an attempted bribe had never been attempted in the first. She would find a better use for it. Taking another deep lungful of smoke, she called on the exhalation, "Torao."

The Arcanine that prowled over from near the concert-hall entrance was brutish, well-muscled, a prowling beast lashed over in the tell-tale signs of a many a hard-fought, hard-won battle. He huffed a soft wisp of smoke from between his teeth, however, butted his head into her shoulder.

"We'll leave you to your evening."

klaus anchoret

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