What's sadder than getting drunk with your boss after he's bailed you out of jail? Drinking alone. At least his night with Tam Fawley had a pleasant ending; Orion's expecting this night to be miserable.

He's had a bad day with his arm, coming to a rough stalemate with Isaac Merlo in a doomed attempt to stop Pokémon trafficking. His whole shoulder aches, artificial nerves signaling pain that radiates down his metal limb. He could take it off, but the absence would surely feel worse than the agony. He endures, instead, on his second drink before a familiar face enters Howling.

(For a lightweight like Orion, two drinks is enough to be feeling it.)

The low lights of the industrial bar catch on metal as Orion lifts his arm to beckon @arashi over.

mission: sleepless in slateport

Alcohol makes him slow, but it does not make him utterly oblivious. After an uncertain purse of his lips at Tam's first question, still pondering, the follow-up settles like the last dregs of melting ice in Orion's glass.

"With— oh." His cheeks flush darker with the implication, alcohol's pink not saving him twice. He ducks his head, almost shy, then glances back up at Tam through a curtain of dark hair. He laughs, the sound breathy but a different sort of nervous, now. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

If there's any doubt that Orion still doesn't know what Tam is asking, he eliminates it by closing the gap to brush their lips together, experimental.

Does he?

Lord, Tam is pretty. It's distracting.

"I don't know," is as honest as it is uncertain. He's still not entirely sure what game they're playing. "Do I?"

The spell is broken, brief, when Tam addresses the alcohol that both of them have indulged too much in already. Orion's glass has been replaced by the dutiful bartender while he'd been busy staring at Tam, and he lifts it to his lips just to have a distraction.

"Hah, same..."

Thank Arceus, otherwise he'd be mortified by his own behaviour.

Orion's laugh is more of a growl.

"You were given a chance to surrender. Should've taken it, asshole." He makes sure to stress the word Isaac Merlo had not said.

He's more than eager for a fight, now, his prosthetic radiating with pain as the Rotom's gathered energy seeks release. He levels it at Isaac, STORED POWER released like a shotgun blast, but a brilliant burst of light from the Pinchurchin's CHARGE sees the attack fire wide. Cursing, Orion grips at the crease of his metal elbow as the arm seizes up from the force of the attack. The prosthetic was new, the Rotom's bond with him was new, and the risks taken were great.

It buys them the time they need to escape.

"Fuck! Tianyi!"

But no matter how skilled the Alakazam's powers, TELEPORTING into mid-air is not an option she will entertain. As her FUTURE SIGHT comes to fruition, Altair aims a vengeful THUNDER at the retreating bat.

"Damn it."

Orion. Orion is the cadet in charge of night shift.

And, yes, he's definitely asleep.

It's been a slow, boring night, and with the Absol curled near his feet able to wake him up should anyone come inside, Orion hadn't hesitated to shut his eyes. The low lights of the lobby hadn't impeded his sore need for rest.

What does, however, is Altair's teeth in his thigh.

"Nngh," he grumbles, stirred awake by the prickling pain. He swats half-heartedly at his partner's flank. "What is it?"

He blinks, bleary, and sees no one.

"Ow. Fuck."

"Tam?" Orion, still dazed from the abrupt return to consciousness, nearly trips over Altair when they both get up at the same time. Steadying himself on the counter, the ranger rubs sleep from his eyes and potters over to— "Tam?!"

He's seen his Captain injured, but he's never seen him like this. "What the fuck happened to you?"

"I know," Orion repeats, tired.

He is sorry, but he doesn't repeat the apology. Don't be sorry, be better. He's trying, he really is, but it must not look like that to Tam, who's having to deal with him again.

Resigned to being HQ's disappointment as per usual, he crouches down to give Clover an apologetic scratch behind the ears before dutifully following Tam out into the main room. Immediately upon taking in the spotless surroundings and his beaming colleague in Hailee Jacobs, Orion knows they're going to have a problem. No one's been more excited about free pizza than Hailee.

Grimacing, he says nothing, stepping up to the board.

IT HAS BEEN 9 DAYS SINCE OUR LAST INCIDENT

He reaches for where they usually kept the marker only to find it closer to the height chart, instead. The notched doorframe bore two instances of his own name, 5'2" angrily scribbled out with a scrawled 5'7" above. He'd still been the shortest until Talia Celes had joined the crew; seemed like someone had taken the initiative to add her 5'4" to the count.

Erasing the proud nine, he replaces it with a fat zero.

"Sorry, Hailee."

Am I being threatened?

Orion can smell the whiskey on Tam's breath when he leans in closer. His eyes are very blue. An astute, liquor-fueled observation that doesn't serve to answer the question floating around in his brain.

"Yeah?" His laugh is nervous. "How so?"

He doesn't think to pull back, in spite of being potentially threatened, because the booze has gotten to him. At no point does it occur to him that this is how some people flirt.

As the Noivern attempts to recover from its injuries, the battle-scarred bat is attacked from all sides. Shrieking in pain and fury, it attempts to alight from its earthen perch only to be slammed with a devastating ICE PUNCH. Its wings crumple as it crashes back down — still breathing, thank Arceus, but out of commission.

"You're going to pay for that."

Altair is the first and fastest to strike; the Absol closes in on Isaac's Duskull and aims a wicked NIGHT SLASH with his horn. Slowking isn't far behind, a blast of PSYCHIC energy aimed at the meddling Amoonguss whose spreading spores had slowed Orion's approach.

Scowling, the ranger can only wait as the Rotom PROTECTS itself against the nullifying move.

Though Alakazam appears to be inert, in truth it's focusing on another FUTURE SIGHT.

Orion looks stunned. "Really? Never?"

He can't fathom it. Sure, Tam's resting apathy works against him, but anyone with eyes could see that he was cute. Right? Well, maybe most people haven't had the balls to tell him. He does intimidate a lot of people.

Orion, halfway to drunk, isn't feeling intimidated.

Not even when Tam's sky-blue eyes lock with his green gaze, which would normally set off all of his alarms. Now, the flush of alcohol disguises the blush on his cheeks when the captain continues to tease him.

"Well now I know your secret, too, Valentine."

Alcohol wasn't the finest idea.

He's still dusty and bleeding from a few minor cuts when he drags himself into Slateport's Ranger HQ, bypassing whatever nonsense was going on in their common rooms to dutifully report to Tam Fawley's office. The scrap that he and Calliope Marks had gotten into wasn't particularly disastrous for any of the living, breathing parties involved, but they had accidentally compromised one of the docks.

"Before you say anything," Orion starts, lifting his hands both flesh and metal before he's even sat down, "I know. Keep my head down. Don't do anything stupid.

He slumps down in a chair, fingers carding through sweat-damp hair to push it back from his face.

"Calli's fine," because his partner had been forced to stay behind and deal with the dock workers while Orion reported to HQ. "No one's hurt. Just the dock. And one of the boats."

He shoots a sideways glance at the Captain. "Sorry. Sir."

Valentine.

It's not what he expects, and a burst of laughter bubbles in his throat. Tam looks annoyed, but Orion can't resist teasing him with the insistence, "That's kinda cute." After a beat, he relaxes his smirk and admits, "I don't have a middle name. Or, didn't." He still doesn't, but he'd never had one to begin with. "But. My name is Seiji. Now we're even."

He goes to down a sip of liquor to find his glass empty once more. That explains why his head is starting to swim.

"Pickin' on the guy with one arm? C'mon."

He doesn't actually seem to mind.