“I’m sure they’re doing their best,” Nanette said gently. It was in her nature to be forgiving. Besides, Hoenn was always in a state of disarray, so she could only imagine the endless possibilities of where their budget went.

And it was easier still to be forgiving when it was just an escort mission. The corsola were milling by the edge of the dock, each as pink as the next and all with bright, curious expressions. D’Artagnan could swim as well as any other man, but Mila…well, it was a very clear issue of putting a rapidash in the water. It just wouldn’t work. And being a ranger would be difficult if Nanette couldn’t adapt. She was no varsity swimmer, but she wasn’t someone who sunk to the bottom of the sea like a stone, either.

“I can swim! I promise I won’t be a burden on this mission.”

Lance had the build and face to be intimidating, but he had been kind to her since she started. Still, Nanette was not wont to disappoint a superior (especially not one who looked as if he could snap her in half like a twig should the disappointment be too great).

LANCE VOLLANS | mission

☉

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Nanette, but just call me Nettie. This is d’Artagnan. Your glaceon is beautiful.”

Nanette favored Ryuuzaki’s companion with a small smile. Beyond the foyer was a scene very nearly identical to what she saw at any other practice office. Clipboards by the dozen, computers, paperwork, and weighing scales. D’Artagnan wore an expression of weary resignation as he limped after them, and Nanette gave him a stern look. He might have been older (goodness only knew how old he had been when he had entered her life as a kirlia), but they were partners. Friends. So she was going to ensure he took care of himself.

“Don’t be stubborn,” she said. “You’re hurt.”

If d’Artagnan had his way, Nanette was sure he would suffer in silence. And if she hadn’t known better, this likely would have gotten worse. Nanette gave him a beseeching look and d’Artagnan sighed before stepping up onto the scale. He was still moving gingerly, trying not to put weight on his bad leg. She chewed her lip, arms folded almost protectively over her chest.

She was a ranger. Injuries happened. But it didn’t mean she had to be stone-faced through this.

ryuuzaki amemiya

☉

“By all means,” Nanette said, smiling. And she was good at smiling – it came with the territory of being present at fancy functions from the moment she could walk.

But this wasn’t just some pretty, practiced smile. There was something like mischief. If he was trying to goad her…well, it worked. Her eyes had been drawn to the bare skin of his chest like a moth to a flame. And it wasn’t some shy, girlish look beneath her lashes, either. Thaddeus’ ease put her at ease. This was casual – nothing to it – so why be flustered? Instead, her gaze was greedy. Oh. His attitude? Quite bad, honestly. His face? Lovely. His body? Lovelier. Tempting enough that Nanette grabbed his belt and pulled him closer and closer – just until they were very nearly flush.

“Relax, then, and get comfortable. Let me help.”

His personality was difficult at best, but he wasn’t awful. She had met worse. That aside – he was handsome, she was willing, and they were both young enough for dalliances like this…so why not? She hoped he hadn’t expected some blushing damsel that sputtered at the sight of a man. It was one trope in novels Nanette couldn’t stand. Her movements were deft and purposeful. The belt was looped over a chair without much preamble.

The window for being coquettish was closing. The first button was popped; Nanette pressed closer. He was just a hair too tall but…she managed. That was to say – she managed to strain just enough on her tiptoes to kiss him.

@kane

☉

“It’s been an illuminating experience,” Nanette said.

And while it was one of the more banal responses she could give, she felt that it was accurate. The job was hard work, often thankless, but it was one of the best learning experiences she had gotten by far. Some lessons had been harder than others, wrought with bandaged fingers and bruises that turned eggplant purple, and others had been harder on the heart than on the body. Still, Nanette was glad for it all. Every hurt was a lesson, and she ought to be thankful for all of them. Nanette felt more at ease in her uniform now. Some of the threads were beginning to fray, and her boots – which Nanette had endeavored to keep pristine so early on – were muddied and scuffed. It was the mark of a ranger in the making, surely.

“This is a very beautiful region,” Nanette went on, and her voice had softened a little as she said it because she meant it.

For all the chaos in Hoenn, she loved it in its own way. It certainly wasn’t Kalos, but that was the beauty of it all, wasn’t it? Hoenn persevered through fire and flame and goodness only knew what else. Even the Pokémon here had their quirks: they were battling against an oranguru, after all.

D’Artagnan glanced her way and Nanette only had to mouth swords dance for him to understand. It was the best part about working with her longest companion: her gallade knew her, and she knew him, so they knew each other’s discrepancies and where to compensate. The ground rumbled as the ursaring dug its claws into the earth, roaring. D’Artagnan vaulted out of way, swinging his blades with deadly precision.

As the ursaring faltered, Nanette’s decorum stuttered to a halt.

“Really?” Nanette almost winced. She could hear how hopeful her own tone was. How pathetic. “I’d like that very much, Annalise, thank you. I’ve been here six months, so it’s about time I started meeting others.”

Networking was important, after all. And Nanette was sure it wouldn’t go beyond networking. She wasn’t exactly a fascinating person to befriend. If Annalise was the sun, then Nanette was…what? The moon? No, that was silly. Even the moon had a mysterious charm. If Annalise was like sunshine, then Nanette felt like…well, nothing much. Perfectly ordinary.

annalise henderson | mission

☉

How was someone supposed to act with the heir of heirs?

For most, shameless ass-kissing. These were often the people who lacked both dignity and money, but had an excess in ambition.

For Nanette? Act normally – perfect manners and posture – if not a bit flustered. Because while her family had money to spare, it was one thing to be well-off and another thing completely to be the scion of a veritable empire. There was an air around him that was both extraordinarily regal and terrifying. It read much more in reality than on television. Nanette stood straighter on instinct. When meeting anyone, impressions were important; the way one carried themselves was vital.

“It’s no problem, really.”

The tension in her shoulders softened along with her expression – face going from nervous to concerned. Ah. So the headband wasn’t just a fashion statement. Occupational therapy wasn’t her forte in the least, so Nanette made a mental note to do some reading about it later. It was unlikely that this man…Fernando? No, that was too casual and friendly. It was unlikely that Mr. Silph would ever need to interact with her again, but it was just good information to have under her belt.

“You don’t have to buy me a drink, but would you like to join me for one?”

It was very innocent and her intentions were truly good…but her father had taught her a valuable lesson in dealing with people during situations involving food and drink. Offer the server her card before the other person could even blink. It was like a sleight of hand, but for the opposite reasons people would usually need to use it.

FERNANDO SILPH | mission

☉

For a moment, Nanette could only look at him as her brain – just on the cusp of buzzed – processed the words, the intent. When a woman in a short dress brought a man back to her hotel room, it usually ended up in…well, fucking. And for however inexperienced Nanette was with romantic love, the physical aspect did not elude her. It was almost flattering in some strange, slightly messed up way. At least Thaddues found her attractive enough (and if not her entirety, then at least her chest) to follow her this far without complaint for physical company. So at least Nanette had one thing going for her even with her lack in charm and true interest.

“I’m twenty-three,” she said, and her smile was just as amused. “Funny enough, my intention was to make sure I could tuck you in.”

Was.And now, well, she wasn’t so sure, because Thaddeus seemed relatively sober and that just defeated the whole purpose. So, what then? He wasn’t unattractive by any means…but Nanette distinctly remembered he had put his entire mouth on the glass of the convenience store. And while she was sure it was sanitized (this was Lilycove City, after all, and it had built-in standards), one could never be sure of when it had been sanitized last.

“But you seem fine, now, which was faster than I expected.”

Thaddeus stood an entire foot over her, give or take. Nanette had to strain a bit on the tips of her toes to press a hand against his forehead. Not as incandescent as she knew others to get at his original level of “fucked up.” Good for him. Many weren’t so lucky (herself included).

She could have let her hand fall away completely…but her fingers were feather-light against his cheek. This was Hoenn – so she could either enjoy herself or let the next disaster (which Nanette was sure was looming menacingly along the horizon) could obliterate her. Nanette would be remiss if she missed some of life’s more mundane pleasures.

“You did follow me this far, and mostly behaved yourself,” Nanette acquiesced. She was still smiling, but it was less amused now and more teasing than anything.

Maybe she could get him to brush his teeth twice – no, thrice – after the fact.

@kane

☉

“Fever dream – do you feel sick? It’s hot out, so if you don’t feel well you need to stay hydrated.”

The flirtation was glossed over because, firstly, Nanette knew she was not someone men pursued or wanted to accost. Second, if someone was so ill as to find her diverting in any way, then she was going to be worried. But other than the comments, he wasn’t radiating any sort of heat, wasn’t slurring and wasn’t swaying on his feet. So that was good, at least. Nanette chewed her lip as she eyed the wounds on his fingers. She knew a musician or two personally, and what this man said was true. She was going to worry regardless, clucking her tongue in a distinctly motherly way as she pressed his fingers to close and curl against his palm.

“I have my first aid kit back at my spot. I can disinfect these and apply more bandages, if you’d like,” Nanette said.

Even in the low light of evening, she could see this man a little clearer now. He had light hair and dark eyes, not unlike herself. God – Nanette knew that face, and there was something about his voice, too.

But he had asked her name, so she would focus on things that she knew. “Nanette. Please, just call me Nettie. And you? I’m sure it’s a lovely name for such a fine man.”

(To which, some people said her commentary was like a grandmother. Oh, what a lovely young woman! Or even, I’m sure you’re very popular wherever you go.)

Callan Young | mission

☉

Using common knowledge and (not-so) critical thinking skills, it didn’t take much for Nanette to figure out a strategy. All it took a whispered word for d’Artagnan to move into action. He still did not seem at all happy with her continued participation, but he did not try and stop her, either. Instead, he snatched up the sarong she had removed earlier. A quick knot around her waist, and she set off. A purposeful, dignified walk had been instilled into her since she was young. And though Nanette herself was never truly confident or proud, at least her gait never showed it.

In primary school, they learned of weather in its most basic form and rendered via Pokémon moves. Water Gun and Sunny Day would always make something, her teachers had sang.

D’Artagnan’s blade glowed before he leapt, sluicing through the water with deadly grace. It scattered like rain, and combined with the overpowering sunshine –

Well, it was obvious.

A rainbow. How very surprising as a gimmick, not so much in terms of science.

Combined with the whirling flourish of Nanette’s sarong, it made for quite the show. It was enough showmanship fit for a dance competition, Nanette thought.

KWmU6sgO

---

swimsuit ref.

@

☉

“I won’t say no. Especially since you caught my hat. Thank you so much.”

Nanette treaded water back to shore. Where the sand had given under her weight in water, it was packed tight where the waves kissed land. The sarong hung heavy around her hips. She hadn’t intended on another swim, but, apparently, her hat had? Ridiculous, but at least she didn’t have to waste money buying another. Her gaze was on her hat, but then Nanette’s eyes traveled from the familiar weave to the hand clasping it. Specifically, the fingers. Which were long – graceful, even – but also bandaged.

“Oh, what happened? Here, may I see?” Nanette‘s brows furrowed in concern. Did he cut himself? Burn himself?

…And why did he look familiar? Granted, it was darker further out from the crowd, but her eyes were adjusting to the gloom. Nanette was sure he wasn’t one of those pretty boys in the bands she liked, the ones who could sing and dance in perfect harmony. No…an actor, maybe? A model? The latter made sense since he was practically looming over her. If anything, that just meant he could keep pace if she had to scurry back to her parasol for her first aid kit.

toppa time | mission

☉

“Yes, my very rented hotel room,” Nanette said.

He had…what? A foot on her? And at least a year or two on age if she had to hazard a guess. Yet Nanette had seen Thaddeus putting his whole mouth on glass like a child. A very overgrown child. Maybe there was an extra toothbrush the hotel had left for amenities. She hoped so. He was receptive to being led, at least. Nanette glanced over her shoulder every so often to make sure that Thaddeus was following. If d’Artagnan were here, he’d likely be forcing them to walk five feet apart. But no. He wasn’t. Instead, her Gallade was in Slateport – left overnight for a checkup and something she guessed to be tendonitis.

So there was no great, yawning distance between them. And Nanette waved cheerily to the staff at the concierge desk (they looked between her and Thaddeus with mild curiosity, but that was something Nanette did not notice). It was a nice boutique hotel in an art deco style – all gold and black. Even the buttons of the elevator had that polished look to them.

Her room was modest. A queen bed with one corner already undone (where she had curled up earlier with a saccharine sweet romance novel), the perfunctory television, and her suitcase laid out by a chaise.

“You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the chair.”

Nanette slipped out of her high heels; the tile was cool beneath her feet. In her mind, Thaddeus would knock the hell out and her babysitting would be done for the evening. He was safe – far from traffic and random sharp objects he might pick off of the street. After all, alcohol usually made people sleepy. It made her sleepy after a certain point. So it just made sense – all evidence pointed to him dozing off.

“How are you feeling right now?” Nanette asked. She was perched on the end of the mattress, running her thumb over the indents of where her heels had dug in. (Alas, fashion had a price). When she raised her head, her expression was less exasperated now, and gentled. If not slightly weary.

@kane

☉

Well, fair enough. She should have known that attempting small talk of that caliber would have fallen flat. It was fine. Nanette was content with quiet. Her heels clacked on concrete, a sharp staccato that contrasted with the lulling not-quite-quiet of Lilycove City. There was the distant roar of the ocean, the skittering paws of some stray alley Pokémon, and distant sounds of traffic (there was one loud shout about a fender. Nanette hoped someone had insurance). She was aware of the warmth of another body looming. She angled her phone just so – there was nothing incriminating. Just the navigation application in the corner and her wallpaper (a very cute, social-media worthy photo of some giant pink drink complete with vanilla ice cream).

There was the marked convenience store up ahead complete with a bored looking worker at the window.

“Two packs of those cigarettes, please,” said Nanette, pointing through the glass. She was careful not to actually touch it. No need to smudge anything if she could help it. “Two sports drink, two bottles of water…oh! And a can of strawberry vanilla tonic, please.”

Even if Thaddeus had chosen his brand arbitrarily before, she remembered so she bought them. Everything else was just a sensible purchase – alcohol was a diuretic, so it was important to hydrate, and the tonic was just for her. Because she loved strawberry and vanilla as she apparently loved all things sweet and red. It was evident in her crimson dress, the lip gloss, and even to her perfume – cherry, oud, cinnamon, and rose. Even her eyes were red, a Sanguine trait. It just seemed to be kismet.

Nanette handed Thaddeus the plastic bag of his items without much preamble. When she spoke, it was very frank.

“I’m staying a few minutes from here. You’re free to rest for a bit if you want to. Though it seems like you’re doing better out here.”

What was going to happen, really? He was cute, but drunk. And men did not accost plain, mousy Nanette like that.

@kane

☉