Skyler finds herself appreciating the bold manner of Summer Atreides 's approach, meeting her evenly as she slides from the stool to find a seat by the woman's side.

A brief gesture towards the current barkeep materializes two full glasses in the space between them. The captain picks one of them up, raises it in the air in lieu of a toast, and takes a generous swig.

Should Summer reach for the other, she'd find cheap, stomach-curdling tequila.

"Feeling's mutual, Summer. Don't think you're the kind to spend a lot of time by the docks." Which only made the situation all the more bizarre. "And I probably would've remembered you if you'd been a drunken fling." Probably being the key word.

Something tickles the back of her head, the vaguest impression of a memory - but it is a fleeting, illusory thing. Gone before she has the time to reach for it.

"Skyler Dross, ship captain and co-owner of Nautica." She smirks and extends a hand, "Pleased to make your acquaintance - again, apparently."

She hadn't yet connected the dots between this Summer and the one Gunner Graves had told her about; she would, in time. Eventually. Hopefully.

Mossdeep was the closest to home she could get without being in Lilycove proper. The sky had been a blue expanse earlier that afternoon when she'd recognized the first signs of an incoming summer storm looming on the distant horizon. By the time the crackle of her ship's radio called for caution, she'd already planned to make for Mossdeep.

The scent of ozone and salty brine had welcomed her into Mossdeep. It'd followed her all the way out of the docks and into the city.

She would make the reverse path, she knew, a few hours later to sleep in her ship - but not before indulging in her fair share of drinks.

Unlike Summer Atreides , the kind of self-gratification Skyler sought had nothing to do with shopping. Her muscles felt sore and achy from being out at sea all day, and she released a pleased sigh when tequila burned a delicious path down her throat.

While not at all like the sort of rowdy establishments Skyler took to visiting at the end of a day's work, trouble had a way of following her regardless. And here, in this moment, it took the shape of a beautiful, pale-haired woman who kept staring at her.

Skyler lounged back against the bar and quirked an eyebrow. In the back of her mind, something slid into place.

"Do I know you?"

Gunner Graves 's laughter is something that she suddenly realizes she's missed - even if no memory of it is forthcoming. It sinks into her bones with a familiarity beyond rationality.

(Not that Skyler has ever been that good at the latter.)

"You don't know, Bond." Skyler reaches for an arancini, popping it into her mouth with a satisfied hum. There's something altogether too smug about the twitch of her lips. "I've been told I'm an excellent bad influence. Who knows, maybe Summer's into new stuff now." The Galar version, at least.

All that smugness dies a humilliating death at his next suggestion. The arancini she'd been eating gets stuck halfway down her throat and it takes nearly half a can of beer, and a bout of couhging, for it to finally go down.

"Uh, yeah-" The thought of parker jones alongside Gunner Graves and GIDEON GRAVES grinds her brain to a halt. It seems fitting and wrong, at the same time. The dichotomy nearly gives her a headache. "Maybe, if I stumble upon her again."

Chances are, they'd keep a distance from each other in the foreseeable future.

"D'you remember anyone else?"

The mention of Summer Atreides doesn't immediately bring forth an epiphany; they hadn't known each other in Hoenn, and all that Skyler had been left with was a series of hazy recollections barely cobbled together.

"I don't know her, no." She presses her lips together, willing her brain to somehow cooperate. "Though... I'm pretty sure we were in a boat somewhere together. Fighting... things. Drinking. Having fun?" 

She blinks away the images, amused. That checks out.

"I know one of those pink-haired women though." And here she hesitates, because she knows for certain that parker jones is neither League nor civilian. The protectiveness that claws its way out of her ribcage, and the intricate knot of feelings therein, surprises even her. "I've met her a couple of times while going out for a drink or two."

Liar.

Not a lie, she tells herself, not entirely. 

It just wasn't the whole truth.

Conversations grinds to a halt in the face of the momentous occasion taking place right before her eyes. As she turns to face the ocean fully, she notices Dorado's floaties have deflated as expected, and were now stuck in the surf.

But that's okay, she thinks dazedly, because it didn't look as if they were needed anymore.

Dorado is still battling his way past the surface, but he hadn't sunken yet. His frantic movements had become less chaotic as he found a comfortable rhythm and leaned into it.

He's swimming. Actually swimming.

"We've... We've been working on this for years. Three, to be exact." Comes Skyler's amazed whisper, easily lost under the hiss of shallow waves breaking past the surface. She takes a few steps into the ocean without even realizing it. 

"Holy shit."

As if her brain had suddenly decided to catch up to the momentous occasion, Skyler whoops loudly. It catches Dorado's attention, and the feline only has the time to blink confusedly before the blonde grabs him and spins him up in the air.

"You did it, Dorado! Holy fuck, you were swimming!" 

The wet ball of fur blinks in astonishment, and a few secons later grins brightly down at his beloved captain - looking, if possible, even more unhinged and threatening than before. 

"We're goin' out drinking tonight!"

Was it unhealthy to give Pokemon alcohol? Very likely. Would it stop Skyler? Of course not. 

It takes more than she's willing to admit to not snort at Gunner Graves 's affirmation. Trust in the Bureau? A tall order for someone who'd witnessed its incompetence first-hand. But she does trust in Gunner, and in the end that's enough for her.

(The juxtaposition of simple acquaintance and trusted friend still give her vertigo sometimes.)

The story he tells next isn't an easy one despite its casual delivery. "Shit. That- fuck. I'm sorry." Skyler is seldom this somber. Then again, she doesn't find herself the recipient of such painful admissions very often. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that." A pause. "For whatever it's worth, I'm glad you two managed to grow a friendship out of it."

Grief and heartbreak isn't something you can physically fight, or outpace. It'll remain embedded with you while life grows around it.

Skyler reaches for her next beer and nearly downs it in one go. That too, she feels is appropriate for the moment. 

"Do I know her? I mean, I must've. We were all together in this apparently. Me, you, angelo vestri . GIDEON GRAVES . And Razz Kingsman . And..." Skyler furrows her brows. "P-pinkie?"

Why does she vaguely remember there being two of them?

The establishment Captain Dross finds herself in is a ramshackle excuse of a bar, hidden away in the seediest part of Lilycove. Grime coats weathered surfaces that no one ever bothers cleaning- but she isn't here for the views anyway.

This is not, Skyler muses amusedly, a place someone would go to for a good time.

Not unless you were someone like Skyler Dross, and you chased trouble the same way a fool would the glint of gold - with an absolute disregard for anything but her own pleasure.

So when the voice reaches her, anticipation shivers a path down her spine.

She knows how this will end- how it always ends in places like this. And yet she still turns around. Still takes her sweet time dragging a silver gaze up and down Marza Volchitsa's frame. Up, down. Again.

Her lips twitch.

"Depends. Who's askin'?"

The tequila shot burns deliciously down her throat, and Skyler wipes any leftovers with the back of her hand. 

marza and skyler fistfight in some seedy, probably illegal bar? y/y?