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"Ah, Clair?"
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The voice on the other end is familiar, a deja vu from a time when you still think about how to express your artistic talents. Perhaps the voice's owner would be a fitting subject for one of your displays, but he has a peculiar quality better left untainted. You are more alike than you'd be willing to admit.
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"Hey, it's me, Lucas." His tone sounds sheepish. It's like he knew he was guilty, and now he's trying to atone for his past transgressions. "Sorry. I haven't been calling much."
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The number calling you looks new, but your flesh and blood still remember your old number. Ever since Lucas found his apparent calling, his single-mindedness threatened to shut the world off from the visions of his future. Does it sound like someone else you knew?
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But, of course, apples from the same orchard never grow apart.
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"How have you been?"
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If he asks, he'll be free from this nagging feeling. Or so he thought.

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You'd think that first-timers would have excuses for knowing minutiae about the establishment, but this is deceptive even for repeat customers. Lucas assumed the young man before him - someone within his age group - would have a similar-level apprentice job in his working place. He might have been projecting a bit.
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"Oh, mm, sorry for interrupting your break time," Lucas noted the discomfort in his tone before continuing. "Though, by the sound of it, you didn't sound too pleased with this break. Itching to go back and whip something out?"
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There's a thin smile on the footballer's expression, though nothing that the chef would notice. Shin would probably hear the slight jesting tone he adopted, however.
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"Let's see how good the rest of your staff is at busy hours, eh?" He said before walking to the cashier and placing the orders in the queue. He's not buying only for dinner - nor himself alone - so the items' quantities are excusable if challenging. If he has the money, why not?

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Lucas let out a breath of relief once Josh was seemingly receptive to his reasonings. That was a start. Even if they should want someone without much experience in battle, he has no illusion in assuming they don't have trainers with much more qualifications here. After all, those who apply to the Gyms should be the standouts of the pack.
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The young man nods in response to the Gym Leader's words about physicality and trainers. There are many different schools of thought regarding training methods, and Fighting-type Gyms in many regions follow a similar guideline of self-improvement alongside your Pokemon. What he espoused felt in line with this line of thinking.
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Would his experience with this method be relevant? Perhaps. Strength-building exercises would still be universally applicable.
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"I have experience in teaching other people physical exercises," Coaching attempts finally come in handy, it seems. "Football is one thing, but I also devised muscle and stamina-building routines. Given time and experience, I might be able to apply a similar methodology to help those amateurs to intermediate riders."
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And if he'd ask, Lucas would whip up one to see how effective it would be.

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"Not enough equestrian experience. I think that's my problem." Mauville Gym accepts all sorts of exotic mounts, and it's daunting. Luckily enough, it seems he managed to hang on and grow, but he doesn't know when his luck will run out.
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"Alright," He pulls the Mudsdale's reins, nudging him to turn left at the intersection. The road ahead seems smooth running, allowing the quadrupeds to build up speed.
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That is before they come across the river.
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Lucas eyes the Rapidash on his side before pulling at the Mudsdale's rein, trying to think of a solution.
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"Mudsdale, use Rototiller!"
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He doesn't know if it will work, but fortunately, the quadruped would recognize the command and neigh mightily, terraforming their surroundings starting at the river's edge. Platforms made of mud would emerge from the river's base, allowing the mud horse to cross without getting swept by the current.
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Lucas looks back at his fellow rider. A Rapidash might have more issues crossing than his ride.
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"Can you cross it!?" He shouted while trying to keep the ravine's sounds from drowning his voice.

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Lucas eyes the other rider's seemingly natural grace on the saddle, consciously comparing it to his all-too-rigid posture and half-remembered practice routine. He makes a mental note to re-review his diligence in riding practices. He's supposed to be the Mauville Gum trainer, after all.
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"Yeah, you can say that." He answered while eyeing the track layout before them. "I'm better at training Pokemon as a ride than riding them myself, though." If saying that makes sense.
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"Works for me. I'm sure this one's capable of self-defense, so we'll watch each other's backs." Mudsdale isn't rare, and he had experience handling them in the Gym. This one shouldn't be too far out of the norm. "Name's Lucas, by the way."
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"We could go on a steady pace to help them build momentum for a few hundred meters before breaking into a full gallop." He recalls one of the few pointers his Gym Leader told him while incorporating a few of his methods into it. "Does that work?"
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The other guy looked distracted, but he figured it should be fine as long as he did his job.

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"Hey, that's alright. Do it at the pace you're comfortable with. There are plenty of sports without a ball. Jogging, for example." Lucas said, none the wiser about the significance of the ball's trauma. Not everyone would have the destiny to play with a ball, even if it's his talent. Martial arts are fine, though he's content with kicking someone in the head with a ball as self-defense.
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Lucas' sojourn through the motion halted in a blink after Shin said something unexpected.
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"Wait, you run the restaurant? Are you the head chef or something?" He said, doing another double-take. He presumed his leisure pace here was a mandatory rest period for the less fortunate.

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Lucas nods in affirmation before sitting down on one of the guest seats. He glances at the Leader's signature Pokemon/mount sitting beside him. He's very imposing in its size, and yet Lucas felt no hostility from him, a sign of a well-trained ace. His manner befits one of the gym's symbols, second only to the primal beast depicted in the paintings overlooking them.
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But the Leader himself gave nothing of the grand image his position suggested. The casual manner almost gave Lucas a sucker punch.
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"Lucas, sir-Josh. Luke is alright as well."
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Sure, he knew his name already, but he introduced himself. Unovan people paying no attention to polite society is only a stereotype.
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The awkward introductions notwithstanding, Lucas finds himself engrossed in the brief history of the races. The view from outside the window is nothing like he'd ever seen.
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But, of course, it's never going to be that easy.
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"Regrettably, no." He takes a deep breath before continuing, "While we of Nimbasa Stadium are experienced trainers, we focus our efforts on our games by necessity. We're athletes first and foremost."
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However, underestimate their prowess at your peril. They've bested more than a few Championship hopefuls for a reason. Lucas prefers to let their reputation speak for itself.
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"But I think focusing on one training method is a narrow viewpoint. It's why I'm here, to expand my horizons."
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"I'm still training, and my footing is still shaky, but once my feet are firmly on the ground, the challenges are next." He stated with unwavering eyes, "It would be a huge step forward to start here."
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He's capable of a running start, but intercepting passes from others is still a visible liability. They might have to look elsewhere if they're looking for a proven top-scorer.

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Lucas' eyes meet the Grookey's awkwardly. The loud simian species might not be what you'd think when the word "discipline" comes into the fray, but at least they would make enthusiastic supporters. He heard the older ones tend to be lively cheer squad members, especially with their affinity with percussions.
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All in all, not a hard sell.
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Lucas withdraws one of his spare Pokeballs and lets it fall. Before it could touch the ground, he intercepts the ball, juggling it with his feet.
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The activity seems to have captivated the Grookey's attention. Before it could snap out of its trance, Lucas kicked the Pokeball at her.

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If he didn't let his condition discourage him from physical activities, then that's ideal. To only be able to watch from a distance while not being able to do anything is an aggravating feeling. Lucas won't wish that on anyone.
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Then again, perhaps he's being reasonable. The man before him isn't letting his unfortunate condition keep him down.
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"Not necessarily. You can play with a ball with a coordinated effort and the right partner. Start slow, perhaps to satisfy the itches of hearing the game from the radio, before taking off running."
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Of course, a hobbyist could stop at the coordinated effort with partners and be relatively content. Lucas assumed if he still liked to listen to sports radio broadcasts, he still had a lingering passion for baseball.
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But he has been assuming a lot of things.
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"I do, yes. I play football. I'm only an amateur, so you probably won't catch any of my games on the radio." Lucas softly sighs, "I also work in the Mauville City Gym, but I'm still not very good at it."

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Onion rings, classic
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Lucas made up his mind for a side helping of onion rings and a sparkling water bottle or two for the road. He absent-mindedly taps on the menu booklet while listening in on the other young man talking about his past experiences with physical activities.
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He can't explain it very well, but there's always something about other people's sports experiences that interests him. Perhaps there was an inspirational storybook quality, even if it must have sounded conceited to others.
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"Tried something like that lately?" Luke asked bluntly, his tone casual rather than accusatory. "There are all sorts of facilities for sports around here that rival Nimbasa, though I guess there'd be fewer of them compared to Nimbasa."
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It's hard to beat Unova when it comes to flaunting excess.

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"Here you go."
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The identification was his old Nimbasa City Stadium membership, which should be verifiable through the League's computer network. It would also prove his athletic prowess and sports experience.
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Of course, Lucas doesn't know how valued those prior experiences would be here.
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"Thanks." Lucas excused himself with a nod, stepping into the elevator. The decors stay consistent with the ones in the front office, further strengthening the temple comparison he had earlier. At least they're consistent about it.
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He knocks on the door to the office before entering after permission. He then pauses, doing a double take at the Leader. He's younger than he thought, but that's not necessarily weird. Younger Gym Leaders do exist.
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"Thank you for considering my application, sir." Lucas diplomatically answered with a lifetime practice of handling conversations with coaches. "I was looking to apply for one of the openings for gym trainers, given my previous experience. But, well-" He paused to consider going ahead with his concerns and decided to bite the bullet. "-I'm still not sure if I have enough of a chop for the races."
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Not a very convincing pitch, but perhaps he could leverage his skills to go the extra mile. He has to grit his teeth and bear it, at least.

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Luke eyes the electric sheep grazing peacefully on the roadside. This one seems more proactive than the last one, but would they be any better?
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The woolly evolutionary line lacks the speed of the usual electric types, but football isn't all speed. Smart defensive plays often don't require much pace, and positioning matters more in intercepting even speedier players.
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Still, speed certainly doesn't hurt to have. Luke himself is more of a speedy player.
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Jogging past the Ampharos, Luke keeps an eye out for another option while keeping this one on the back of his mind. If this turns out to be the best option, he could always go back to him.

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