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“I can tell,” he replied, a dry laugh following as he smiled back. Not that Lam was going out of his way to hide that fondness for mentorship he’d picked up at some point. Or maybe it was just baked into his system, growing up an elder brother. He nodded slowly, and pushed his glasses up into the nest of his emerald hair. He took the moment to rub his eyes. “That’s good, yeah. You’re definitely right in that regard. If we can derail the idea that the gym challenge is fit or designed for militant training, I think we’re better for it.”[break][break]
It was a foolish idea, of course. Competitive battling for sport was vastly different than combat driven battle. And it was good that someone like paxton concordas was in place to dispel the notion that they could be synonymous with one another. Lam aimed to help him in that.[break][break]
Another smile, smaller than before, tugged at his mouth. “Yeah. I think the region is in dire need of the reminder that there is more than all of the conflict. It sort of crowds out the idea of what the future might be like.” Beyond the fighting, and the tension lines. That there were other things that could be valued and treasured.[break][break]
In that, they were also of the same mind. There were so many people younger than him who had been thrust into this. He himself hardly felt capable. He wasn’t a trained specialist. But if this could pave the way for others to feel safe without being forced into the thick of things, then he was all for it.[break][break]
He gives Pax a thumbs up, his own mood perking up to match the other’s. “Sounds good. I’m happy to work with any of them when the opportunity facilitates it. Just let me know where and when, and I’ll be there.” On the desk, Noodle rolled onto his belly, tail swishing as he looked up at Paxton with a chirping mew.[break][break]
Lam snorted, shaking his head. “Already got enough attention. Let others have the spotlight,” he waved a hand dismissively, before offering it to shake. “But I’m happy to play my part in this.”


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The last thing he expected was the intruder to talk to him. Lam stared, blinking a few times stupidly. “Uhhhh…painting??” Wait, no, he didn’t have to justify himself. He was the one who was here legally![break][break]
Lam watched him carefully, and he was somewhat relieved to notice that he didn’t seem terribly threatening, honestly. He was actually…pretty cute. But that wasn’t the point. Looks could be deceiving, right? The lie fell flat with ease. Lam’s face twisted up. “Cleaning? Jeff doesn’t hire cleaners. His friend Tinsley says it’s a demoralizing job.” Which was rich, considering Lam was the one who ended up doing the cleaning.[break][break]
And then Poppy turned everything upside down.[break][break]
Wind ripped through the gallery, rattling canvases on the walls. “Poppy! Pleaseeeeeee,” Lam whined as he took off again—that time attempting to still every canvas he could reach so that it didn’t fall down.[break][break]
At least until he realized the other guy was making a run for it. “Hey, wait a minute!” Lam changed tactics. He bolted forward to try and catch up with him (he wasn’t quite as fast as Lam, was he?) Arm extending, his fingers snagged in the back of a black jacket. “Ha!”[break][break]
The triumph only lasted a second.[break][break]
Because as he yanked his arm back, Lam lost his balance and he pitched forward into the other. He let out another embarrassing yelp as gravity and momentum combined sent them down in a tangle.

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Maybe if he hadn’t had the volume up so loud, he would’ve heard the voice rising in the echo-y space. Maybe he would’ve noticed that he was definitely not alone sooner, or that Poppy had tensed on his shoulder.[break][break]
Maybe this was why he should’ve just invested in a damn bluetooth speaker, but the headphones were more immersive. He focused better without the outside noise–[break][break]
It wasn’t the time for his scrambled brain to fixate on that. He yanked the headphones down from his head. They dangled on his neck as his pulse and breathing both quickened. “We’re being robbed, Poppyyyyy…” They couldn’t be robbed, he couldn’t be robbed. This wasn’t his gallery.[break][break]
Which spelled bad news for him. Because then his boss would know he stayed late. And that he hadn’t set the alarm yet.[break][break]
He was grateful that he was at least in sort of moderate shape. Lam abruptly scrambled to the side, sprinting to cut off the straightforward exit to the door.[break][break]
“Youuuuu….youstayrightthere!” he pointed at the guy, while his other hand slapped against the wall to snap the lightswitch on.[break][break]
He might have noticed the other’s panic and fallout if he hadn’t been too busy with his own mayhem. His eyes locked on the mimikyu sprawled on the floor, head hanging lopsided.][break][break]
“The hell are you doing in here?” Well, that much was obvious from the look of the artwork that had clattered the floor. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, starting at the canvas before his eyes snapped back up to the intruder. If that was busted, he was done for.[break][break]
He could kiss the job–paid internship goodbye.[break][break]
It was then that Poppy took matters into her own hands–er, wings. The tiny pidove flew up toward the other, wings working with extra force, rotating in a rotating motion that told Lam all he needed to know. “No, Poppy. No, do not use GUST inside. Poppy. Poppy!”[break][break]
Poppy used GUST anyway.

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Oof, his shoulders hurt. He rolled them, and his joints popped. Stifling a yawn, he gathered up his brushes and palette.[break][break]
He paused, swiveling toward the corner where Poppy roosted on a little perch that he’d brought in just for her. Her head was tucked under one wing, but she stirred and blinked sleepy eyes when he drew close. “Wakey wakey, Pops. Time to go.” Fingers stained with color reached out and scratched the Pidove under her beak and around her head, making the pidove coo happily and ruffle her wings. Sleepily she hopped off the perch toward him, and in a flutter of wings she resettled on his shoulder.[break][break]
Lam couldn’t actually hear her drowsy pidove sounds over the music playing in his headphones, but he had them memorized. Could imagine the little chirps as she tucked herself into the curve of his neck and shoulder.[break][break]
Crossing through the main room once on his way to the cleaning station, nothing seemed amiss. The moon glowed through the large windows, replacing the golden hour he’d left behind when he’d stepped into the back to work. “Oh, shit.” He mumbled the words aloud to himself as he fished his phone loose and checked the time.[break][break]
It was way later than he’d meant to stay.[break][break]
But he’d been in the zone. So long as he cracked open a can or two of some overly sweet, sugarfree energy drink in the morning, he’d manage to survive tomorrow’s shift.[break][break]
Some of his irritation from earlier in the day had shifted away, and he carried his things as his head bobbed to the beat.[break][break]
Eagerness to get out of there and get something good to eat (would he treat himself to a nice bean burrito tonight? Yes, yes he would,) swept in. coupled with the infectious playlist he’d put on, it was a bit of a recipe for him to, well, get in the groove a bit, if you will.[break][break]
It didn’t matter if he looked stupid as he moved about, sliding across the floor and making what he thought were killer dance moves as he washed the brushes until the water ran clear. It didn’t matter because apart from Poppy, he was totally alone, and his boss hadn’t invested in a camera system (kinda stupid, Lam thought,) so it wasn’t like anyone would see him.[break][break]
Or so he thought.[break][break]
He was humming to himself as he left the tools to dry and crossed back through the gallery to get his bag. He just needed to set the alarm on his way out. Lost in his jam session, Lam spun around in place, and–[break][break]
And froze.[break][break]
There was someone in there. There was someone in the middle of the gallery, just behind the false wall that blocked that side from the street view windows. Canvases in hand.[break][break]
Heart rocketing up to his throat, he maybe screamed.

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The gallery was definitely higher class than he was.[break][break]

For one, it was nestled comfortably in the classy section of Slateport's upper district. All sunlit and refine as the sun slanted through the tall front windows. Tailored with sleek minimalism to put forward the featured works on display. It was the mood, the vibe, or whatever the hell that meant. To Lam it was a lot of white walls monochromatic, rectangular furniture.[break][break]

There was a show opening coming up and Lam had spent the better part of the day following his boss' whims. Which had involved moving a lot of tall, oversized pieces in cumbersome frames as their indecision kicked in. He could have helped Lam since he was the one changing his mind so frequently about the location of the work, but no. Of course not.[break][break]

Lam had tried suggesting that maybe they should contact the artist and get their input, but no, that just wouldn't do either. And why couldn't Lam provide some eye for arrangement? What was he getting this paid internship for, anyway?[break][break]

Despite his laidback demeanor, Lam had to stuff down the annoyance. Of course he'd tried to make suggestions. They were just the ones that the snobby little man with his designer frame glasses didn't want to hear. Lam's ideas weren't whimsical enough. Heaven forbid a painter be practical.[break][break]

Lam was decidedly not upper district material. Honestly, it was a wonder he'd even landed this job. Correction, paid internship. And it was days like these that made him question why he even wanted to own a gallery of his own. It'd be different when he was the one in charge, though.[break][break]

For starters, he wouldn't treat his interns or staff like dirt. Or make them return soy latte orders four times over because there wasn't enough sugar syrup added. He was pretty sure the coffee place a block down hated his guts now. No matter how much he smiled at them apologetically or attempted to commiserate.[break][break]

Whatever. Whatever. It was for the experience. Something he repeated in his mind like a mantra when the aforementioned boss swept out the door two hours earlier than usual with the insistence that he could not miss his old classmate's exhibition and needed to be there several hours early. It would simply be a social faux pas. Aka he wanted to make sure he got to go to the pre-game party.[break][break]

Even if that meant he was left to run the public access area on his own, Lam didn't complain all that much. If he was going to ditch, that meant Lam would spend the time on his own work. As long as he locked up the doors at close, and then set the alarms when he left, it’d be fine.[break][break]

And just like that, he lost track of the time.[break][break]

Headphones snug over his ears, Lam spent the night perched in front of the canvas in one of the rooms off to the side of the main gallery. Oblivious and lost in his own world until his back felt stiff and his fingers began to cramp around the brush. That and his stomach was finally rumbling with enough force that he couldn’t ignore. Slipping off the stool, he stretched as he observed the large canvas.[break][break]

He frowned, unhappy with it, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he already knew it wouldn’t earn him a wall for presentation, no matter how good it was.[break][break]

Tossing the brush in a water cup, he began to gather his things and wash up. He had to be there tomorrow too, after all.

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“Back at it again, I see!” Lam raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he approached clover matamata. Despite the storms that had ripped though the area not long ago, or the flooding that had partially submerged the city, the warm weather had return in Lilycove full force. Yuzu had already scampered over to the now-familiar flock of oricorio.[break][break]
He fell into the ritualistic steps of their dance, not at all minding the presence of a new addition that looked very much like him. The rest of Lam’s troupe lingered around him, however. Defaulting to their trainer as the de facto leader of their flock. Some much shyer than the bold, cream-colored Pom Pom.[break][break]
“I’ve been wondering if you’d come back out to the beach to practice.” Oricorio of all sorts seemed to enjoy the environment. Maybe because it wasn’t unlike Alolan beaches.

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His shoulders sagged as her furor ebbed away. For all of her brightness and determination, Robin seemed so frail in that moment. It was even more vulnerable than when she’d shown up at his door because now there was no deflecting what her family was like—the question she’d avoided. He’d been granted a front row seat. “Well, you get to decide for yourself now.” Methodically, his hand brushed between her shoulder blades in a soothing circle.[break][break]
And then he lets her lean away, his own gaze following the strange duskull. There was nothing natural about it, it was obvious. She didn’t need to tell for him to see it in the odd, ruby glow behind its mask.[break][break]
You think I’m crazy.[break][break]
“Oh,” he shook his head, “no, you misunderstood. I meant what she said and did wasn’t okay. I have a lot of thoughts about shit like that.” Lam squinted then, face twisting in ponderance. “I mean, attempted strangulation isn’t too cool, either, but my point is that I get why you’d, uh, react that way.” Again, he was reminded of his own younger brother. How he’d desperately sought their mother’s approval and affection while Lam had done the opposite and worked to shut her out.[break][break]
How Leif had pined for that acceptance long after she’d gone. How that had pained Lam to see, and how it eventually caused a rift between them.[break][break]
He shrugged then. “I don’t really care what happens to them,” his head jerked in the direction of her old house. “But if you take matters into your own hands, your robbing yourself of what you can do away from that. Don’t do that.” He smiled then, broadly so, though the hard-lined concern didn’t fade from his eyes. “I don’t think your crazy. You’re better than them.”[break][break]
Though he couldn’t say he was a steadfast believer in the mystical, it would be ridiculous to claim she was out of her mind. After everything that had been happening, after he’d seen gods come down and stake their claim on people, and reality begin tearing apart at the seams (poorly suturing itself up afterward,) who was he to not believe her?[break][break]
“Now, c’mon. You can crash at mine tonight. Rook won’t mind.”

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