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[attr="class","bisc"]The battle with Shalin had only just ended. After a quick once over, the doc cleared Jangle to resume the competition. “Can you believe we’re at 15 already?” The brunette grinned. The cat’s response was the opposite of happy. A dark brow jerked upward. She stretched out her left arm to show off her most recent injury. Obviously, she’d been carrying the whole team. Slightly abashed, Biscotti murmured a quick apology.

When his opponent took the stage, honey eyes widened. “Mister D?” His voice sounded a little confused. Two in a row! What were the chances that he knew both opponents!? At the compliment, his cheeks turned pink. “I’m not doing anything.” An apologetic, loving grin was flashed his cat’s way. “But I’d love for that streak to continue.” After a respectful look at Raikiri, the fire cat jumped to the starting point.

Ready, set, go!

Josh Devlin

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[attr="class","bisc"]Jangle turned to glare at her trainer as she stepped back from the attack. Sure, it didn’t mean actually putting your tongue on strangers, but you still tasted them. Just in your soul. Which, honestly, was worse. Still, the attack seemed to have the intended effect. The next attack came without warning.

Though the cat lifted her hands to her ears, they didn’t exactly cover them. There were plenty of gaps for that noise to get through. Disoriented by the attack, the fire attack staggered back from the fox Pokemon. She shook her head to try and erase the ringing, an ultimately unsuccessful act. “You okay, JJ?” Her dummy of a trainer called out. “I think your ear’s bleeding.” Repeating the earlier gesture—in refusal this time—she launched herself back toward the Sylveon.

But, this time, her steps weren’t perfect. The disturbance made her feel like she was on the deck of a heaving ship. “ROOOOAR!” As she reached forward, fire bloomed from her belt until it was whipped into a raging inferno. This grew until it wrapped around her like a hamster ball—Flare Blitz. Hoping to land it, the dark type threw herself the last few yards toward the ribbon-wearing fairy type.

Josh Devlin

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The brunette’s cheeks turned red. The Tyranitar had never respected him. Not since his big bro—worried about his lack of firepower—sent it to him. In fake Galar, they’d made some headway. But the second he turned back into an awkward teen, all that hard work went out the window. “I mean—I guess,” Biscotti admitted quietly. What could he do to earn a beast like that’s trust? “But it’s not like we can do each other’s nails.”

That embarrassment lessened when Jangle’s attack hit home. “Yeah!” The teen shouted. “You go, J!” Smoke billowed from the Incineroar’s nostrils as she allowed herself a moment to gloat. Fingers stretched as the cat popped her knuckles. Sharp claws flashed as the feline stared down the pink fox-thing in front of her. The two shared a glance. That wall’s going to be a pain in the arse. That look seemed to say.

This thing was a fairy type. Or, well, magic type in his head. So uh, what attack should I use? If he knew anything about Josh, this thing would be fast. He wouldn’t get much time to debate. “Uh, Lick it!” His cat’s incredulous look makes Biscotti turn pink. “Not like that, weirdo!” Fortunately, the cat obeys—she thinks a bit of paralysis would do this battle a world of good.

And, honestly, she doesn’t have much for a fairy-type in her repertoire.

Josh Devlin

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[attr="class","bisc"]The young man couldn’t help but grin back. Throw this dog a bone (or a compliment), and he’ll do almost anything for you. This is proven by all the burn marks and jab marks on his skin. Most of them are the result of parlor tricks. Dangerous bouts of self-harm motivated by cheers from fake friends and real bullies. “No problem, my guy!” Biscotti replied. “We were gonna throw most of this stuff out anyway.” He shook his head. “Those bats are bad for business.” Even if they were cute as buttons. People were scared of them. Some BS about them carrying Pokerus or something.

The compliments drew a grin. Cannoli loved people enjoying the place. That was why she put so much work into it. “Thanks!” At the question of ownership, Biscotti’s cheeks flushed. He looked down at himself in disbelief. Do I look like I run a business to you? Hadn’t he just seen him trying to spook Zubat away with a broom? “Uh, no, it’s not mine.” Though, he supposed it kind of was in a tangential way. His last name was on the sign, after all. “My sister owns it.” Watching the archaeologist browse, Scotti took up a position behind the counter.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the stray made a selection. Biscotti grinned as he pulled on his gloves.Snap! “Two ham and cheese croissants coming up!” At the question, the boy in the deli cabinet shook his head. “Sis won’t fire me.” He grins as he stands back up. “Cannoli’s a softie.”

howard slayte

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[attr="class","bisc"]Is he okay? Mage looked a little distracted for a minute. Biscotti barely resisted the urge to jerk back the question. His scarred hands tugged at the empty air like an old sailor a rope. But, as quickly as it appeared, the awkwardness vanished. “Yeah.” The brunette nodded. “It definitely wouldn’t be sweet.” Ghosts were made of shadow, death, and regret. There wasn’t anything tasty about it.

“A battle?” A Slowpoke slides into the water nearby. The splash wets the nearby rocks. A few drops threaten to darken Scotti’s shoes. It’s at that point that the baker realized he hadn’t actually answered Mage yet. Honey eyes widen. “I, uh—” The man shares a look with his Runerigus. The grandmotherly figure shifts like a leaf in the breeze. She seems ready to go. “Sure.” He straightened up and tried to show some more confidence. You’ve got this. Your stuff is way tougher than his.

The ghost tablet’s form rippled out of corporeality for a moment as its frontmost rock shifted to face Mage. “Let’s start with a—-” The ghoul began to glow red as she unleashed a Brutal Swing at her future opponent. “--that.” He grinned awkwardly.

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[attr="class","bisc"]“Sure!” Biscotti chirped at Opal’s selection. “Three cheesecake bites coming up!” There was a sliding noise as he pulled open the display case. A snap signaled he was following proper hygiene protocol—a glove now around his wrist. After laying out some wax paper, he transferred the little cubes to a branded plate. Two were meant for Opal and the last for her BFF the pirouette master.

The young man nodded. Again, he offered a sheepish smile to two people who couldn’t see it. The talk of evolution led to a quiet, thoughtful remark. “That's got to be scary.” Biscotti continued. “Waking up one day three feet taller with extra limbs.” That’d be a nightmare in his books. Not that he hadn’t woken up at a horror show before. The lack of pain meant he’d broken multiple bones in his sleep. “Makes me feel bad for complaining about facial hair.”

Standing in the room full of canvas, Biscotti felt exposed. It was just a bunch of empty white paper staring back at him. Would she think he was just as hollow? Just an empty-headed ninny noggin? Then, she answered. The brunette beamed. “Yeah? You do?” His amber eyes shifted to his Runerigus. “Yeah.” The young man took a few steps back as Bubbe drafted into the space between them. He jerked his Pokeball off his belt. “It’s going to feel a little weird, but she isn’t trying to hurt you.”

With an attempt at a maternal smile—which looked anything but—the ghoul tried to sink into Opal’s body.

Notes

• Kingsley's got vegan stuff on tap
• Offers to let a ghost possess a small child; a totally non-sus thing to do

opal garcia

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[attr="class","bisc"]The brunette grinned, again, awkwardly. “Well, uh, it’d take them a while to get it going. And the charter would be a total mess.” At least it would be if he wrote it. Some introverts were top-notch with the written language. They could make poetry out of rubber bands and bubble gum. Scotti’s prose was full of voice and flavor. Unfortunately, it was his. Knowing the other guy was awkward made him a heck of a lot more comfortable. “I mean it’s good to make people laugh.”

It almost made his awkwardness worthwhile. Or, at least, it made it less annoying. “I mean you have to one day, right?” Not that he’d know. It wasn’t like he got complimented a lot. He was just a B-rank Biscotti. At the story, the baker managed to hold back a giggle-snort (barely). “That’s nothing, man. I call Cannoli's mom at least once a week.” Which wasn’t super embarrassing anymore. At some point, he managed to make it sound sarcastic. So, she took it as a joke.

Biscotti shook his head. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.” He smiled, a bit sorrowfully. “I’m just glad I won the genetic lottery instead of someone else.” Heck, with thirteen kids, his mom and dad were guaranteed at least one dud. And, to the brunette, it was best that it was him. The other ones were on their way to being business people and politicians. He just was. Though Scotti did know that wasn’t how genetics work, the feeling remained. “It’s no fun though, that’s for sure.” Talk about living in a bubble.

That story was something else. Just the visceralness of it was enough to make Scotti wince. “Yowch.” He offered up a sympathetic smile, and then remembered that Shinobu couldn’t see it. Maybe he needed real-life closed captioning or something. “One reason I stick to golf.” Still, he figured something like that could happen with any sport. Maybe he’d take those helmet ads more seriously next time he got on a bike. If a baseball could make you blind, he shuddered to think what a car could do. An awkward pause follows. “Maybe they’ll be able to fix it one day. Your sight.” They were always coming up with crazy things and crazier ways to fix those things.

“Venus—” He thinks that’s the Serperior. “--seems like he’s got her stuff together.” Just as he comments on that, another few Pokemon are corralled into place. A hand is reached for Shinobu’s. “We should probably help her out!” Maybe they’d be a little more pliable now that the snake had done its business.

Josh Devlin

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[attr="class","bisc"]All of his energy erupted in a big, powerful stream just as the dragon split in three. The beam slammed into the far side of the arena, cracking the stone barricades. The duplicating, shifting dragons were enough to give him a headache.“Rawr! Come on!” The little cookie man cried as he stumbled backward. With a hiss, the Tyranitar’s jaw clapped shut. A tired, nasty glare was thrown his trainer’s way. His breath escaped in tired, desperate gasps as he tried to regain his energy.

Josh’s scolding made Scotti flush. His hands began to wring around. The dragon’s glare is returned, though the brunette’s anger is much more short-lived. “But, I—it isn’t like that/i]. Friends disagree all the time.” At least, his friends did. It wasn’t like he owned them or anything. A squawk of alarm followed. He knew that ice was bad news for scaly stuff. Just like how he found that Ekans frozen in the snow one time! “Get out of the way, big R! Move!”

The Tyranitar didn’t move. When he tried, his legs felt like stone. His stubby knee gave out, bringing him to his knees just as the ice washed over him. It congealed in his cracks and in between his scales. The area between his fingers became coated with ice. “Tshhhhh….” The ground type began to shiver uncontrollably as the ice blocked the sun. Now, he glittered like a crystalline statue. Only his eyes moved.

“Ah! Shoot! Uh—!” Seeing his partner frozen, Biscotti moved to swap the Pokemon. “Let’s heat things up!” The Tyranitar disappeared into a ball as a bulky, muscular Incineroar took his lace. Irritable eyes stared down the Hydreigon as the Incineroar surged forward in a burst of embers. With a powerful push from her back legs, Jangle aimed two kicks at the nearest heads.

Josh Devlin