What was he doing?[break][break]

Emerson didn’t really go out of his comfort zone (his apartment,) unless work or necessity demanded it. It was infrequent that he socially drank, let alone socialized period.[break][break]

So what was he doing on New Year’s Eve, hours away from the turn of the year, in Rustboro, sitting in the first bar he laid eyes on, freshly made drink in hand?[break][break]

A bad day at work, he supposed. It was still early enough in the evening that Em could get home well before midnight struck. The IT van he drove waited lonesome from down the street from The Burning Maw. Still, it could be considered a bit of a success—progress from the fact that months ago he wouldn’t have even considered stopping here. Or anywhere that wasn’t home.[break][break]

Somehow it was still crowded there, and Emerson had wedged himself into a corner, both hands clutching the sweating glass he’d been given. Something called a zombie, because it had been the first thing suggested he’d immediately agreed. Wide, rusty eyes darted around the room as he sipped at the beverage, nervous in a way that looked like he might jump at his own shadow.[break][break]

Or if anything spontaneously spoke to him.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] thalia black | bar crawl / burning maw [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

“Sorry! I know, er, sorry..” They clamp their mouth shut to stop themselves from a continuing stream of apologies.[break][break]

He must not recognize Emerson, right? ‘Cause if he did then there’s no way he’d be so friendly right now. Surely. Both prior interactions with caden maher had been absolute, total disasters.[break][break]

Could Em save himself further mortification? Probably not, but maybe he’s got an out from a massively awkward situation—just for a little bit. “Yep! Em is fine! Peachy!” his voice ratchets up to a squeak at the immediate default to his nickname.[break][break]

He’s quick to slide into the seat beside Caden, hands curling around his glass before he does something stupid like drop it or spill the liquor all over himself. “Actually, uh, yeah. I live nearby. But I usually come at weird hours..”[break][break]

To avoid all the people.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

He’s already tipsy by the time he shows up at the ritual. Or, well, he was pretty far past that point if he was being honest, given that it hadn’t been the first place he’d started out that night. But between the cold night air and the flying taxi from Rustboro that nearly gave him a heart attack, Emerson’s at least sobered up enough to be mostly cognizant, if still a little giggly.[break][break]

His dedenne is too mischievous to take with him on a night like this one, so it’s his mincinno perched on his shoulder as he wanders the lower district once he’s been dropped off. The plan is to go home.[break][break]

But he’s got just enough lack of impulse control to swerve and duck into the ritual instead, despite Churro’s warning squeaks. Whatever, he likes this place and it’s literally right by his apartment. He’s gotta seize the mood to not be a hermit. That, like, totally never happens.[break][break]

That boldness nearly fades at the sheer amount of people packed into the main room. But then someone ushers him down to the speakeasy, and it’s nice and quiet— but she takes him up to a table instead, and he thought he was gonna have his own.[break][break]

So he stands there awkwardly, an old fashioned of his own in hand. There’s already a rosy tint to his cheeks, but it darkens once he realizes who it is sitting at the table.[break][break]

“Oh, you’re—“ The hot doctor from the hospital I’ve repeatedly humiliated myself in front of. No wait, abort abort! “—Caden.”[break][break]

He echoes the name dumbly, face gone cherry tinted. Stupid, dumb![break][break]

“I-I mean, er. Emerson. It’s Emerson.” Third time is not the charm.
[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] caden maher | save him… [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-minccino"]

It’s curiosity that draws Emerson out of the depths of his apartment. Bundled up, his eyes and nose are barely visible through the layering of hat and scarf and coat. Mausholds and tandemaus abound.[break][break]

Kneeling in the snow, he watches as the little families march around him, gathering their winter stores. It’s funny, he hasn’t seen a single tandemaus, let alone a paldean Pokémon apart from his own that came along with him from Medali. But now they are beginning to spring up everywhere. It seems he really can’t escape home—no matter where he goes, pieces of his home region follow.[break][break]

Still, they would make a stellar addition to his personal rat pack, so if he can manage, he’d very much like to take a pair or unit home. That is, if he can manage it. If not, he’ll simply end up going Home Alone, but that was the point of leaving Paldea in the first place, wasn’t it?
[break][break]
ZrRPmt2N
[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] maus in da haus[break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dedenne"]

“Well no, it’s for me! Plus I don’t know if gyoza would be very good for a dedenne..” In a huff, Dumpling wiggles loose and stared up at James with big, pleading eyes from the floor. Little devil.[break][break]

Some of his anxieties wane when the delivery guy avidly replies to his questions. Em doesn’t really know how he manages to forget every time that this particular guy is always friendly. Enthusiastic.[break][break]

It’s probably because he’s too busy being flustered by that outgoingness being directed at him.[break][break]

“Are there that many at this time of night?” he asks with a tilt of his head. The affirmation that is, in fact, cold draws a small frown. “D-“ Emerson is quick to shut his mouth of the offer of an invitation inside. Just to warm up.[break][break]

That’s probably weird as shit, right?[break][break]

The bag settles in his outstretched palms, and rather than his typical, nervous smile, Emerson perks into a wider, brighter grin. “It’s the holidays! I just scored on a big job, and it feels nice to pay that forward a little, you’re the nicest deliveryperson grubbinhub has on this route. And…also I just wanted to order extra.”[break][break]

Talking too much again.[break][break]

He thinks about offering one or two to the other, but before he can do so, a blur cuts between them, rushing through.[break][break]

And when he blinks, both blur and bag are gone. Wide eyed, his confused stare drops from James to his empty hands. “My gyoza…”
[break][break]
[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] JAMES BAKER  | m: trapinch who stole christmas [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dedenne"]

His dedenne reaches the door before he does, a chubby little goblin gluing himself to the crack like he gets first pick. “Dumpling, those aren’t for you!” he huffs as he follows, scooping the wannabe recipient up and bundling him into his arms before undoing the lock and opening up.[break][break]

The scent of gyoza wafting from the warm bag gets Dumpling wiggling again, sparks of excited, static energy crackling from the pads on his cheeks.[break][break]

“Er, sorry, don’t mind him,” Emerson blurts, face reddening on sight when it is, in fact, the usual delivery guy. “He thinks this is for him.”[break][break]

His head tilts up to look at the other, taller than himself. Though that’s not a difficult feat to accomplish. “How are you? Is it very cold out?” His eyes flit away, immediately internally chastising himself. What is this? Twenty questions?? Stop that, you’re sooo bad at small talk, plus this guy probably just wants to give you the food and leave. He’s never gonna want to deliver here if you talk his ear off.[break][break]

Before he takes the bag, the redhead fishes in his pocket for the crumpled bills he set aside for this, the tip much bigger than the standard amount. “Oh yeah, here.” He held it out to swap.[break][break]
[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] JAMES BAKER  | m: trapinch who stole christmas [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-dedenne"]