It was probably a bad idea to mention that he might've been pescatarian himself if not for the risk of people asking questions. They'd assume that because he was a Ranger it was some kind of moral high ground, and why not swear off fish if he was going to swear off meat?

Now, the occasional indulgence in seafood was a private, guilty pleasure, because...

"Don't laugh." His neck is flushed. "Sushi."

He could leave it there. But it's Tam.

"I used to like all kinds but now I'm mostly stuck with vegetarian. Still good."

But it's not the same.

"Why, what's yours?"

"Don't look at me," Orion insists, laughing, "I didn't name 'em."

Beyond his laughter, there's a hint of anxiety. Tam didn't think he was ridiculous, did he? Orion had a perfectly good reason to identify as vegetarian and certainly shouldn't be getting so worked up about it, but...

Tam assumes pescatarians to be a joke, and though his anxiety continues to stew, Orion shakes his head.

"Nah, it's for real. Even I don't get that."

He didn't eat fish either, though he suspects it wouldn't turn his stomach quite so much as the sight of meat did.

mission: great hoenn bake-off
valor: helping hand

The joke goes right over Tam's head, but that only serves to amuse Orion further. "Vegans don't drink milk," he affirms. "Don't worry, I'm vegetarian, not vegan."

They've joked about it before but Orion's never explained the reasoning behind his dietary choices. He's been vegetarian as long as Tam has known him, and thus the other ranger might have cause to believe it's a choice he'd made in his youth, and not as little as a year ago.

He pours a second glass of the milk before putting both the pitcher and their mixture back in the fridge.

"There's also pescatarians, and they only eat fish or something."

mission: great hoenn bake-off
valor: helping hand

Cheeks flush under Tam's teasing, but he finds he's not offended. The other's smirk offsets any potential for miscommunication.

"You're supposed to let it rest?" Well, that had been another step he'd definitely skipped. "Do we leave it on the counter or like, stick it in the fridge or something?"

He pours himself a glass of Gogoat milk, about to put the glass pitcher back into said fridge before he pauses and glances at Tam.

"Want some?" He'd just milked Capella this morning, so it was fresh. Something teasing enters his gaze. "Or is it too vegan for ya?"

mission: great hoenn bake-off
valor: helping hand

"Hm. Maybe that's where I went wrong."

He had a habit of simply taking all the ingredients and throwing them together with the assumption that if they were all in the final product, it shouldn't matter what order they go in the bowl. He's also far less patient than Tam.

But, with the other for company, he finds he doesn't mind the ordinarily tedious task of cooking quite so much.

Tam asks him to take over, and Orion nods.

"Sure."

He pops a slice of Nomel into his mouth before tossing the berries into the mixture, puckering his lips with the sour taste.

"Shit, did we preheat the oven?"

mission: great hoenn bake-off
valor: helping hand

"You think HNN needs a reason to start shit?"

He laughs, but it's only half a joke. He's never been a fan of the media, less so after his stint on the council.

He assumes (read: hopes) Tam is joking, but the reassuring glance and placating words as both unexpected and appreciated. He's not too worried about burning the food so much as messing up one of the steps but the captain's skills seemingly surpass his own.

"Sure, I can do that."

Thank goodness he'd lost his left arm, not his right.

Apart from squishing a few of the berries by applying too much pressure with the metal limb (he was still adjusting to fine motor skills), he manages the task of chopping well. He slips Altair and Clover a couple slices so as not to torture them with all the smells.

mission: great hoenn bake-off
valor: helping hand

Emerald eyes narrow at the insults, anger bubbling in his blood. But he smiles, a sharp thing edged of malice.

"Thank you," he snarls, as he releases his Silvally from the confines of its capsule, "for giving me an excuse."

See, he's sworn not to pick fights with Rocket. But if they picked a fight with him? He was going to finish it.

He ignores Sienna Bell entirely; he wasn't a cop, so her insults didn't slice nearly as deep as those leveled by Martín del Mar. It's the blond known as Tuesday on whom the ranger focuses his ire.

Silvally sets up a HEAL BLOCK immediately upon its paws touching the ground, and shadows coalesce around Orion's titanium prosthetic as the Rotom within begins to form a NASTY PLOT. His Absol crouches, growling, SWORDS DANCE sharpening its horn.

"Yeah, got a couple trees out back. Nothing fancy."

Alongside the typical assortment of Oran, Aspear, and Pecha, tart Nomel berries and juicy Tamatos can be found. The latter were Altair's favourite, though the well-behaved Absol makes no attempt to steal them from the counter.

"Yeah, he loves poffins. Especially the spicy ones."

If the Absol's sharp tail could wag, it would.

"I've tried to make them before, but they've never turned out." He was a defeatist in the kitchen, and so he'd not tried again after the first batch were such a disaster. All his poffins and puffs were store-bought. "Not opposed to trying again, though." Not when Tam was here, and Orion wanted to impress him. "What do we need, Chef Fawley?"

He offers a teasing smirk.

mission: great hoenn bake-off
valor: helping hand

Old, abandoned, probably-haunted locations are a subject of much myth and legend, especially around this time of year. With Halloween looming around the corner, plenty of teenagers dared each other to brave a few hours in one of Route 121's infamous haunted locations.

Orion doesn't need a dare, only simple curiousity.

It had been a nice house, once. Now, the crumbling façade and lightless windows ward travelers away.

A Chandelure hovers at the Ranger's side, its light casting long shadows as he steps beyond the threshold of an open front door. It doesn't slam behind him. There's no unearthly chill. There is only silence, and that quiet spurs him deeper into the carcass of what had once been someone's home.

Clover serves to immediately soothe some of Orion's mounting anxieties, a genuine smile breaking across his expression as he bends down to scratch her behind the ears.

"Hey, Clover."

Altair lets out a soft bark of greeting toward Tam and Clover both, and the click of his nails on the wooden steps soon follows. He nudges Clover with his nose, clearly pleased to see his Slateport HQ bestie all the way out here at the ranch.

Tam compliments the place, and Orion ducks his head.

"Thanks."

Only part of it can be chalked up to him. Most of the furniture was his, for certain, but the large kitchen and the Sawsbuck chandelier hanging over the dining table were courtesy of the old woman who'd owned the place before. So, too, was she responsible for the temperamental old Gogoat and Camerupt whom Tam had likely seen grazing in the pasture on the way up the long road.

"I'm putting you in charge," Orion insists, gesturing around at the kitchen with his metal arm. "Pantry's over there, and anything in there or in the fridge is fair game for whatever we're making. All of it's fresh."

Apart from the fresh Gogoat milk and a few berries from the little orchard out back, the rest is courtesy of Orion's neighbours. They'd trade ingredients, and thus he's ended up with honey, eggs, and assorted crops. The only thing he doesn't seem to have is meat — no doubt to Tam's disappointment.

mission: great hoenn bake-off
valor: helping hand

He should not be this nervous.

They're just baking. Hell, it had been Orion's idea to invite Tam Fawley over to the ranch when they'd got to talking about Tam's practice of making meal kits for the less fortunate citizens of Hoenn during the supply shortage. Orion's got a bunch of fresh ingredients and produce from his own ranch and the kindness of his neighbors, because he didn't have the heart to tell any of them that he wasn't the best cook. This was a great solution to both ensure it didn't go to waste and to help Hoenn in their time of need.

Except, well, Tam is coming over.

He hasn't forgotten what the captain had said when they'd gone back to his apartment for the first time. Ignore the mess, of which there hadn't been a mess, and so Orion's spent the previous night and most of the morning frantically tidying the organized chaos of his space so that his captain-and-friend won't judge him too harshly.

Orion's Espeon is the one to answer the door, stirring from her favourite napping spot on the deck's rocking chair to open the door with her PSYCHIC power. She brushes up against Tam's leg in greeting, twin tails flicking him playfully before she returns to her snooze.

Orion leans over the kitchen counter to call out to him.

"Hey! Come on in."

The interior of the ranch is largely open-plan, a kitchen-and-dining space adjoining a small living room with an unlit fireplace. A set of stairs lead up to his loft bedroom, from the vantage point of which Altair's red eyes blink down at Tam.

The kitchen is the largest part of the space: ironic, seeing as Orion could hardly utilize it.

mission: great hoenn bake-off
valor: helping hand