Fern truly looked like a man that had never committed physical labor a day in his life. For a long moment, Anton contemplated whether or not it would benefit him to throw the shovel at his mentor's head. Before he could have a chance to shock him or recall his legendary or draw any pokemon that would nuke his ass.
[break][break]
He had already dug a hole, it was only convenient to fill it.
[break][break]
"No, not worth it." He muttered to himself, stabbing the shovel down into the earth once more. It was a dry and hot day, making the effort even more unyielding. Dogbreath had decided to take a break as well, bless her.
[break][break]
Character building.
[break][break]
He gawked up at him, "That's cap. You're full of shit and you know it. How is this building me, exactly?" Anton complained, but not to the extent that he didn't do his job. Fern benefited from the fact Anton was delusional and believed that he owed Rocket after everything in Kanto. For that reason, Anton would complain, but he would do his job and do it to the extent that he (admittedly) hoped for affirmaton, not that he'd ever admit it out loud.
[break][break]
"Would it kill you to at least be entertaining?" He hocked a chunk of earth up out of the hole, hoping that it would hit Fern on the way down. There was a tremor in the ground, but he didn't think about it.

[break][break]

+ fern delaney [break]
+ mission[break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Anton could feel the weight of eyes on him almost immediately. Calla was intense in a heavy ice-storm sort of way. In a way that adversely rivaled his own fiery temper. As she slipped through the front, visibly assessing him, she said nothing. He expected it, even if it still managed to eat at him. This was simply a game between the two of them. Unfortunately, in a game of patience, he always lost out being that he was an impatient idiot.
[break][break]
He did his utmost to remain impassive, staring out at the condensation forming on the glass. The sun had come back out, heating up the rain slick streets. Dogbreath yipped suddenly, no doubt due to a certain troublesome mawile. Yet the mightyena was also quite fat and lazy, managing no more than a snap of teeth in the Mawile's general direction before plopping back onto her side.
[break][break]
"Me? Looking for you? You're just an unfortunate consequence of coming to this place. I think I found it first though... so, really, I think that makes you a stalker." He gasped, shocked at the implication. "It's really sweet of you, princess. Real flattered."
[break][break]
He pushed the chair on the opposing end of the table back with the toe of his shoe. A silent invitation or a demand, either way was perfectly possible.
[break][break]

+ calla roth [break]
+ he is a braatt [break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

[attr="class","icon"]

Light fractured across his vision, pixelating like static on an old television. For a second, as he woke, he was just a kid again, waking up on the couch to find the cable was out. The power out too—they always forgot to pay the electric bill. The taste in his mouth was acidic, rancid waste. There was so much pain in places that didn’t make sense.
[break][break]
But he hadn’t been a kid for a long time, well before the time was right.
[break][break]
Anton took a breath, feeling it wheeze through his lungs with bludgeoning relentless pain. Froth dried on the edges of his lips, a film of vomit down the brick he was laid against. Every inch of him convulsed, ping-ponging back and forth between too cold and too hot.
[break][break]
You went too far this time, shitbag. This was not the first time he’d gone too far, but he could tell immediately it was the worst time. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he was actually dead, if this was just a picture of his cold body. What a sick depiction of himself he’d left behind—choking on his own vomit in a dirty alleyway. And what the fuck did any of it matter?
[break][break]
“Fuck.” His voice was a rough, serrated grind. Barely recognizable to his own ears.
[break][break]
The smell of rancid garbage and bile was pungent. As his fingers twitched back to life and the burn of nerves nearly overwhelmed him, he might have laughed in the moment. The only thing that had kept him from choking to death was the position he’d taken against the filthy brick wall, head canted at just the right angle. At least there was one thing he could do right, even if it wasn't on purpose.
[break][break]
There was no telling how long Ant sat like that, until he realized that he wasn’t actually dead, but he wished he was. And then he looked over to see the darkness move, a blurry vision of a man tangled in the shadows of the alleyway like a revenant.
[break][break]
“The shop is closed, if you can’t fucking tell.” His hands itched with the need for more. Just one more time, maybe then he’d do the job right.

The sun was a red, bleeding eye over his head. The intensity of the rays felt like fingers of fire, coaxing between lines of muscle he hadn’t worked in his entire life. It was thirty minutes into the dig and he was out of breath. “I need to quit smoking.” Heaven forbid if he ever had to outrun the law again, he wouldn’t make it.
[break][break]
Flecks of dirt smacked him across the face, sticking to a thick layer of sweat already accumulating from the heat. Dogbreath wasn’t a very good digger, but she was the only thing he had with him that could assist.
[break][break]
Especially considering someone was too good to help.
[break][break]
“I thought you said this would be beneficial for me.” He yelled, wondering if his boss could hear him over his own ego. "Are you gonna help or what?" He peeked up over the edge of the hole he'd dug, eyeing fern delaney who was in no rush to do anything.


[break][break]

+ fern delaney [break]
+ mission[break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

This habit of his was becoming something of an issue.
[break][break]
Not the coffee habit. Not the copious amount of artificial sweetener he was applying to the cafe cup. The coffee had a powdery residue, soaking up the aspartame like it wasn’t certain if it enjoyed the taste. No, his habit had nothing to do with anything he did to himself (for once). It was a habit he was taking part in, ritualistic and ultimately human. It involved talking, glaring out the rain-streaked windows for a flash of silver like a pokemon awaiting the return of its trainer.
[break][break]
It wasn’t the act of coffee that was his issue, it was the fact he was doing it as an excuse to sit there and maybe end up in a reluctant conversation with a frosty mean-spirited bitch about things that probably didn’t matter all that much. Trivial. That was the word. Yet, less so than ultimately dragging his sorry ass back to fern delaney with a latte in hand.
[break][break]
No, sorry.. Not a fucking latte, a venti london fog latte with extra pumps of vanilla and lavender, and then a pump of like hazelnut. Who the fuck even ordered that? Ultimately, Fern would sulk because he forgot some special and important ingredient that he decided to drop on Anton simply for shits and giggles.
[break][break]
Instead, he was sitting around for a weekly visitation as if he were incarcerated, begging for the slightest ounce of human contact. Yet, he didn’t even have jail time as an acceptable excuse. It was a little pathetic. The coffee was just an excuse.
[break][break]
Dogbreath was stretched out on the ground beside him, careless to how many people he tripped up as they weaved between tables in the compact little coffee shop. She looked up at him, lolling tongue and snaggle-teeth. Even she was feeling impatient with him.


[break][break]

+ calla roth [break]
+ he is a braatt [break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]