Hello, dear readers! Sorry for the delay after initially deleting this story. I got a review on FFN that was pretty eye opening to the story's faults, so I felt I had to revise that in order to suit their comments.

In any case, for those not in the know, this is a prequel to my Smeargle fic Black Paint. This story details the life of Sal's mentor figure, Santiago D'Errant, and this was written to give more perspective to what happened before the events of that fic and give the characters a break before everything inevitably ends up going to hell for them.

While knowledge of Black Paint isn't needed to enjoy this fic, as it can be enjoyed as a first entry or episode zero, I recommend you check out that fic as well, as that offers a grander scope of the story as well as a different perspective from a Pokemon's POV.

Content Warning: Virtually nothing objectionable here, folks, although there is mild swearing and implied drug usage at the end.


Part One:

Santiago warmed his old bones by the fireplace of his cluttered studio. After a long day's work of painting and exhibiting with little success, he needed the rest. Although he was content in his retirement to continue painting, outside of a light pension, he made little money from his efforts, which meant it only covered the basic rent and not the utilities.

Still, he had almost everything he needed, even if others didn't envy his position. Almost. The hardest part was the loneliness. Not only with the lack of customers, day in day out, with no network aside from a handful of acquaintances. Even more than that, though, there was no one to continue his legacy. That was another side effect of being a hermit, he supposed. Deep down, he wished to confide in a lifelong companion, or even a Pokemon to distract him from his duties, or he was certain he would die alone and be buried along with his name.

Someone knocked at the window in his studio. Propping himself up with his cane, Santiago shuffled out of his seat to see who it was. His friend, Castel, held a bundle, and gestured the old man to unlock the back door. Once he opened it, his friend stood by the entrance with his Flareon Mitsky by his feet, and caught his breath, fanning at his head with a hat.

"Oh, hello," Santiago said, "What made you two decide to come here so late?"

"Something I want to show you," he said between puffs of air. "Can I come in first?"

Santiago nodded and stepped back, allowing Castel to pop his mud covered boots off onto the welcome mat.

"Sorry, been on a long hike. I'd love a cuppa tea if you wouldn't mind."

"For me too," Mitsky said in human tongue, "In a bowl."

And so, he brought over two hot mugs, plus one flat bowl for the Flareon, and set them on the table, with the old man and the Trainer-Pokemon team facing opposite. Years ago, he would've scoffed at the idea of a Pokemon speaking his language, but as he learned through Mitsky and her trainer's willingness to teach her, the world was full of surprises.

Castel placed the wrapped object in the middle of the table and unravelled the blanket to reveal a large egg. Santiago's eyes widened at the sight of it.

"How did you come across that?"

"Discovered it going back into Cherrygrove. There was this trainer who tried to give this away in the street, you see. I was a little curious, so I asked him about it, and he said it was an unwanted egg from his Smeargle. It was hardly convenient for them to keep, so I wanted to borrow it to decide what to do with it."

"Smeargle said egg was a nuisance. Didn't want a child. Happened in daycare. Don't care if it gets used for breakfast."

Santiago grunted as he sipped from his mug. "Ah, the poor thing. I imagine you two could still take on another Pokemon in your team; you're not a sack of bones like I am yet, Castel. I can't even go on hikes with you anymore."

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. Don't get the wrong idea, though, I didn't want to leave it behind, but that's not the main reason I decided to take it with me. You need an apprentice, don't you?"

He put the mug down and clasped his hands. Yes, he needed someone to pass the torch after he was gone, which was the least he could do if his works wouldn't be recognised in his lifetime. He didn't know what his nephew did, so that was up in the air. At the same time though, how would a Smeargle egg help? Unless...

"You're not suggesting I take that under my wing, are you? I don't mean to sound rude, but doesn't the idea seems a little, um, farfetched?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, I know Smeargle draw symbols to mark their territory, but I don't think I've seen any of them do art to that sort of extent. Do Pokemon in general even have the capacity to learn such a thing on that level?"

To that, Mitsky grunted and blew bubbles into the tea bowl, making it steam up. "Don't see why not. I learned to speak. Why couldn't I learn to draw? Not like I have thumbs anyway."

"I agree with her," Castel said. "They're a lot more like us than you think, and I can back this up. Most Pokemon, when raised in civil environments like this one have a similar level of intelligence to us, can understand us with enough time spent, and in recent years, I've seen more of them come out with amazing things. I've seen some of them busking, playing whatever instruments they're able to, and from the studies I've read of Smeargle, they're able to produce excellent art when given the proper motivation to."

"Preach." She flashed a smug grin.

"Alright, so I was mistaken, I apologise." He gripped his hands, looking over at the egg. "That might be true. I think it's wonderful they can do such a thing. But if this is worth it, I want to make sure I can find someone that can match or even surpass me. I want someone to use my knowledge and not just teach any random person parlour tricks."

"I understand," Castel said. "It's just a thought. I wouldn't force it on you if you don't believe this could work. I'm mostly curious, that's all."

"Or we'll get the egg," Mitsky said with a grin, "And make an omelette with it!"

"Now, now, it's not nice making brunch out of a Pokemon."

"A joke." She stuck her tongue out.

Santiago glanced back at his studio. The place was a good environment for a Pokemon to learn, he supposed, as it was messy with all sorts of paint splatters and equipment everywhere, but organised so one could've easily navigated it. By the walls, his works lay in piles, with finished pieces and studies collecting dust and getting damper over time. That served as a summary of his life, he supposed: a deteriorating shell of what he once was, waiting for someone to pull him out of the shadows.

He looked back at the egg, and placed his wrinkled hand on it. It throbbed inside, as if the Smeargle was already kicking, but undecided on when it wanted to come out. The idea of taking it on as his apprentice still seemed ridiculous, but what other option did he have at that point? The only alternative was to continue painting himself into a corner of obscurity until he'd eventually waste away. Any effort to preserve his legacy was better than none. Sighing, Santiago looked to his friend once more and retracted his arm.

"I would oblige, but I haven't the foggiest idea on how to raise a Pokemon. If this doesn't pan out or gets too much for me, please hand the Smeargle to someone else. I will try to teach them what I can, but I can't guarantee this will work out. My old body can only do so much."

"Fair enough." The two shook hands. "I'll do my best to send you whatever materials I can to help. When the time comes, you better give them a name, though."

"Not a stupid name like Mitsky."

"I thought you were fine with me calling you that."

"Again, a joke."

"Well, I'll be careful, anyway," he said with a smile, "And thank you both."

And so, he spent the next few days attending to the egg, looking up the basic guide to caring for Smeargle while reading some of the research papers Castel gave him. Sure enough, those studies suggested Smeargle, as well as other kinds of Pokemon selected in the experiment, were capable of learning art at a similar rate to humans. It indeed showcased that if Pokemon were given the right tools and upbringing, they could express themselves in any given medium. The language barrier might've been a problem, but if they could learn to understand him, and if they could learn the fundamentals like the subjects did in the study, as well as stick to a schedule that cultivated their talents, then the idea of a Pokemon apprentice became more feasible over time, if still a little strange.

Perhaps not so strange that some Pokemon even had their works up in galleries, with the 'Pokemon Outsider Art' movement, which was also included in the study. That was thinking a bit too far ahead, but even someone years away from joining the choir invisible was allowed to dream.

As Castel instructed, he brainstormed the sort of names he'd call him, but only one came to mind: Sal. Similar to Santiago, yet somewhat different, and more befitting a person than a Pokemon, and so, it stuck with him.

One night, after another uneventful day of maintaining his gallery to an audience of ghosts, when he came back to the studio, the egg started to crack. As soon as his weak body carried him, he rushed to its side and watched over the emerging hatchling. It wobbled to and fro on the table, to the point it nearly rolled off the table. In time, Santiago caught it and cupped it in his hands until the top layer of the egg broke off. A little Smeargle popped their head out of their shelter to look at Santiago with curious eyes.

There it was, or rather, there he was. He figured it was a he anyway. The Smeargle, fresh out of his egg, had a beret-like head with brown ears sticking out of them; their features rounded by a cream-coloured coat of fur. When Santiago saw him for the first time, the chill of the room disappeared as warm blood pumped through his body. He smiled and held out both his hands for the Smeargle to grasp at.

"Hello, little fella," he said. The Smeargle allowed himself to be petted, then grasped Santiago's arm, climbed over to him and curled up in his lap, grumbling affectionately in the old man's company. He, or rather Sal, seemed content to stick with him for the moment, which was proof enough that the journey to get him to follow in his footsteps would be worth it, given the two developed a close bond in time.

The first month or so weren't easy, mainly because of the mess. Smeargle had a habit of smearing paint on whatever they laid claim to, and that meant Sal covered most of the studio in all sorts of different hues, even if he was just learning to walk at that point. Santiago saw fit to cover the finished paintings beforehand, so at least they weren't damaged. Cleaning up after him, feeding him, and making sure he got some rest, however, meant Santiago spent less time actual painting and more time taking care of the newborn Pokemon and catching his breath afterwards. His lack of cognition at first also meant the old man's complaints fell on deaf ears.

Even when he had time to paint with his radio on in the background, it wasn't all smooth sailings. While Sal was satisfied staring curiously at the old man's progress, there were times when his behaviour got out of hand. One such incident happened at the end of the second month while Santiago went for a tea break in the middle of a master study. He left his canvas out in the open, and forgot the presence of the Pokemon in the room, who he thought was previously asleep. When he went back to his workstation, a huge streak of blue obscured most of the painting underneath. He glared at Sal, but when the Smeargle hugged his blue-tipped tail, staring up with those large eyes of his, he bit back the urge to yell.

"It's alright for now, but in the future, please don't paint over my works again. It's not polite to mark someone else's possessions. Do you understand me yet? Nod your head like this if you do, shake your head from left to right if you don't." To punctuate that, Santiago nodded, although he didn't bother doing the last one as it wouldn't have made a difference if he didn't recognise his speech. Sal nodded back.

"Were you copying me just then?" To his surprise, Sal shook his head and the old man's jaw dropped.

"Bless his tail. How did you learn to understand me so fast?"

Sal cocked his head and pointed to the radio, where a presenter narrated some sort of drama in the background. The studies Santiago read also pointed to a Pokemon's cognition getting better with exposure over time and experience, so it made sense Sal was able to pick up on it if he listened to enough human speech.

"I see. Do you know where you are?"

Another head shake.

"You're in an atelier, or what's called an art studio, where I get to paint all sorts of works like these. Here, I'll show you." Santiago uncovered one of the canvases and retrieved a study of a picturesque painting, to which, Sal gazed at with wonder.

"You like that, do you?"

Sal nodded. Although the Pokemon seemed content with the situation, Santiago frowned, as he realised he had been cooped up in the studio all this time without getting to see any part of his natural habitat. From what he read, two months old was the period where it was important for Smeargle to socialise, after all. Since they had some sort of mutual understanding, taking Sal to see the great outdoors wasn't an issue, plus, Santiago could've used an excuse to air the smelly pigments out of the room. He grabbed his cane and told Sal to climb atop his shoulders, which he did, and locked the atelier to leave for the local park.

On the way there, the presence of Sal on his shoulders comforted him, like he was raising his own child rather than a random Pokemon a friend brought to him late in the night. He never considered having children of his own, and felt it was too late to elope with someone as much as he regretted not doing so. Perhaps that was the closest feeling to adopting one. It was still too early to decide whether he would stay with him for certain, though. When Santiago dropped him at the park, he watched him interact with all the different playsets and with the different Pokemon as well. Perhaps it was also important for Sal to interact with others of his own kind in order to grow.

They proved him wrong when the other Pokemon started ganging up on Sal. At first, it looked like playful teasing as they nudged him, but as time went on, it progressed into punches, kicks and energy attacks being thrown his way. Sal didn't fight back, and looked uncomfortable with the situation, but that only made him more of a target. That resulted in him curling up into a ball as the Pokemon continued to attack. A spark ignited within the old man. He whipped at the air with his cane as he dashed towards the gang, scattering them in various places. While his outburst warded away the bullies, Santiago's old age caught up with him, bringing him to his knees.

He crawled to the Smeargle's side, who looked beaten up, but nothing too serious that he had to take him to a Pokemon centre. When Santiago held him in his arms, however, he sniffled under his embrace. Once he caught his breath, he propped himself up on his cane and held Sal all the way back to the studio, where he sulked in a corner of the room.

Santiago stared on, not knowing what to say. As Sal couldn't directly communicate, he couldn't ask how the situation escalated, but if he had to guess, it was a classic case of alphas showing their dominance over the naive newcomer. Still, with the way he refused to fight for himself, it felt wrong to try and make him more aggressive. There was a lot he needed to learn about Sal's nature, but if he knew one thing that personally cheered him up from a bad day, it was the joy of putting pencil to paper. And so, Santiago looked for any materials he could give the Smeargle to cope with his humiliation. Once he found what he was looking for, he knelt down to Sal's level, holding the present behind him.

"It's alright, it's alright," he said, putting a hand on Sal's shoulder. "I have something I want to give you."

He presented a pencil and sketchbook kit, making the Smeargle's face light up.

"It's how I started making the master works I do now. It gave me so much joy as a kid, and that stuck with me to this day. I know you like using your tail brush on whatever you think is yours, so maybe, you would like this as well. It would be great for you to express yourself however you please, in a non-destructive way, at least. How does that sound?"

Sal squealed in gratitude before playing around with the sketchbook. At first, the Smeargle struggled to grasp the pencil correctly with his three paw fingers. Seeing his predicament, Santiago demonstrated with a pencil of his own and suggested several ways for the Pokemon to use his tool. After a few attempts, Sal settled for holding it with his thumb at the top and the two other fingers holding the bottom, and from there, tried experimenting with the different lines and textures one could make with a pencil. They weren't exactly intelligible, and the lines were shaky at best, but it was a start. Sal's face had brightened up since the attack, and that was enough for Santiago for now. That way, he could continue his studies without a guilty conscience.

Once he set his equipment to one side, turning in for the night, he noticed the Smeargle hadn't budged from his seat. Before retiring to his bed, Santiago wandered to his side to observe what he had drawn. The pages he filled were nothing but lines and squiggles, but by looking at his work in sequence, he sensed he got a better grasp of drawing with his paws. There was slight improvement already.

"I think it's about time you went to sleep. Everyone needs rest, especially a geezer like me." He reached for the sketchbook, only for Sal to clutch it to his chest, baring his fangs as if about to bite. The old man relented, and sighed. "Do you intend to stay here all night drawing then?"

Sal nodded, and to that, Santiago smiled.

"Alright. I guess if you're that adamant, there's no harm in letting you carry on." He closed all the curtains, leaving a solitary lamp on in Sal's side of the room, and dragged some bedding over to his Pokemon companion. "If you ever get tired, wrap up in this. And don't touch anything else. I'm trusting you down here, alright?"

Sal didn't pay any attention as he kept doodling. He took the action as a sort of understanding, so that was enough for him.

The next morning, Santiago checked out the back room. Sal had fallen asleep, pencils scattered on the floor with the sketchbook splayed out. He crouched down to examine the pages, and as expected, they still consisted of nothing but lines. However, they had turned from wobbly lines to confident strokes since he last saw them, which showed immense improvement if he had done this freehand. Or freepaw, as it were. He put the pad back where it laid, and drew open the curtains, letting light into the room as dust particles floated in the air. As sunlight hit Sal's face, he awoke once more, and groggily reached for his sketchbook, continuing to draw.

Before Santiago opened up shop, he prepared what he considered a fancy breakfast for him and Sal: a plate of eggs on toast for them to share, with tea in different cups. That was all he could afford daily, but he guessed it was a novelty to the Pokemon, who had to make do with Pokebiscuits and water for the first two months since his birth. He called him over, and Sal stood up, staring at his master. In two months, he had grown somewhat, looking akin to a small child rather than a baby.

"Go on, sit down, my boy. It'll be nice to eat together for the first time."

Sal nodded and sat on the seat opposite him. He dug into the toast with glee, smooshing yolk on his face in the process.

"Did you enjoy your first day drawing?"

Sal nodded, gulping down the last portion of his bread,

"Good, good." Santiago bit into his morsel; only a small amount of food sufficed for him. "Listen, I know you're young, and it might be a lot for you to take on, but how would you like me to teach you what I know?"

Sal nodded with even more vigour.

"It'll be hard. It'll take some time and practise before you're able to draw proficiently. Does it feel comfortable drawing with your paws yet?"

Another nod.

"Then it'll be easier for you to adapt." Santiago gulped the rest of his breakfast and washed it down with some herbal tea, which cleared his mind. He briefly thought back to when he first started out, as a ten year old, on his first day in the private academy in Saffron. The first assignments went over the basic forms: from squares to boxes, then circles to spheres to cylinders. That's where any artist started out with the fundamentals. Still life would've been a good place to discipline the Smeargle first. If that failed, and he couldn't progress further from there, then maybe Santiago would look somewhere else for his apprentice.

"We'll start tomorrow. Now go on." He gestured to Sal's mug. "Drink up. It's hot, but soothing."

Sal took his word, looking delighted at just smelling the scent. Aside from gallery maintenance, Santiago spent the day converting the atelier into a study area while Sal drew at his leisure. With the old man's slow gait, it took hours for him to prepare, but by closing time, it had transformed from a squalid storage space into a workshop with easels stationed and drafting equipment at the ready for them to practise side by side. The next day, Santiago prepared the first still life composition, starting with leftover cardboard boxes and tennis balls for the two to draw.

The first results from Sal were as expected from a beginner artist. Although he was instructed to sketch and not paint at that point yet, as pigment mixing was another thing entirely, none of the perspectives of the objects matched each other. They were drawn with steady lines and clear form, which showed the Smeargle grasped what he saw, but it still needed a lot of work. Santiago sighed. He dreaded telling any student about their mistakes, much less a Pokemon. How would a Smeargle react when met with criticism? Would they get discouraged, or would they trash the studio in a fit? Only one way to find out.

"Sal, my boy," he said, patting his shoulder. "May I point out what you could improve?"

Sal nodded without protest. So far so good. Santiago took a red pencil and marked the perspective lines of each of the objects down to the vanishing point in the horizon. "You need to really look at an object and be able to mark each angle accurately. Otherwise, it doesn't look close to life. Now, perspective is a tricky thing, so I do not want to bore you with the details yet, but if you practise, you can learn to improve. Is that clear?"

Sal nodded, looking his chipper self. That went down better than he expected. And so did the second and third time, when Sal applied his teacher's knowledge and tried his paw at drawing the same thing again and again, with minor improvements to the forms with each iteration. He started imitating Santiago as well by holding out the pencil in front of him as if he were measuring it. Over a continuous week of studies, Sal's still lifes had improved immensely when it came to accuracy, and hadn't complained once; miles ahead of a lot of his former students that let their ego get the better of them. If he learned the basics of perspective and form in that time-frame, then he could've applied it to anything he wanted.

As a reward for the end of that week, Santiago draped thick rolls of canvas over the room and let Sal splatter the room with paint, just to get it out of his system. The whiff of pigment still lingered days after, but by the end, he had created a wide tapestry of abstract art which he displayed in his bedroom.

Before Santiago knew it, weeks turned into months. Every time Sal improved in one of his study areas: perspective, light, anatomy, form, composition, even if it was a slight improvement, he made sure to reward him for his efforts at the end of the week. Even a small gesture such as baking a cake became special between them. Although he had to support himself with a cane to be able to walk long distances, he occasionally took Sal on trips to do plein air studies, life drawing classes at the local club, or street sketches of the various people in the plaza. With each outing and each weekly spoil, the two developed a closer bond. The days of isolation for Santiago had long since passed, where not even the lack of customers on most days bothered him.

Before he knew it as well, two years had passed, and between then, Santiago and Sal turned master and student respectively. The Smeargle had successfully transitioned from sketch artist to budding painter, regularly producing portraits, landscapes and studies of gradual quality, though he had yet to develop his unique style. Still, he was talented than most around his experience level, perhaps even better than the Smeargle he read about in the study. He'd have considered him a prodigy if there was such a benchmark for a Pokemon.

Their morning went as usual as they painted their own subjects in their respective sides of the room, and all was peaceful. That changed when the phone rang for the first time in ages.

Although Sal jumped at the loud noise, after he recovered, he picked up the receiver and handed it over to Santiago.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hi, gramps!" It was his nephew, Harvey, who sounded older despite the two year gap from the last visit. "Can I come over to your place?"

"You know I'm available any time you want to speak. If anything, I would like you to visit more often."

"Yeah, sorry, but it's pretty important this time. I wanna say why when I get there, is that okay?"

"Yes, that's fine. I shall see you soon."

He hung up and handed the phone back to Sal, who cocked his head at the conversation they had.

"I had a talk with my nephew, who should be coming over at some point. I think you'd like him; he's quite friendly with Pokemon in general."

Sal smiled at the suggestion. It would've been good for him to interact with someone younger and up to date with the times, rather than a fossil like himself. They got back to their study for a moment, and a few hours later, Harvey entered the studio, having grown since they last met, but had gotten scruffier too if the greasy black hair and unironed clothing was of any indication.

"Hey, it's good to see you again, gramps," he said.

"It's good to see you too. How are your parents?"

"I dunno, I haven't spoke to them in a while, but I think they're fine." He smiled, although his crossed arms betrayed his tone.

Santiago hadn't seen his brother since they both graduated from the Saffron School of Visual Arts. While they initially kept in contact over the phone as they travelled through their respective walks in life, without warning, the calls stopped altogether. Harvey was the only mediator between the two brothers, but even he had little to report. Thankfully, the atmosphere changed when Harvey looked at Sal, who squeaked and hid behind Santiago's legs.

"Don't mind him," he said, "He's a little shy."

"Huh, so you're a trainer too now?"

"Not exactly." Santiago leaned over his seat and gestured to Sal. "Go on," he whispered, "It's alright." Sal climbed onto his lap and relaxed under his embrace. "He's my apprentice."

Harvey frowned, letting his mask slip for a bit before appearing his usual chirpy self. "I see." He scanned the room until he stumbled across one of Sal's finished paintings propped up on the easel: a still life study. "He painted that?"

"Yes, of course. I've taught him most of what I know. He's a fast learner, he is, and a hard worker too."

"So..." A cheeky grin spread across Harvey's face. "You wouldn't happen to have room for one more, would you?"

He was taken aback by that question. Harvey hadn't shown any previous interest in art, even in the occasional phone calls they had, and since then, Sal had proven himself as a more than promising student. What more would he have to teach that he hadn't taught the Smeargle?

"Do you have any work with you, my boy?"

"Oh yeah, I wouldn't have come empty handed after all!" He fished inside his spacious bag until he drew out a sketchbook, which Santiago flipped through.

While Sal looked at each page with delight, Santiago couldn't feel the same way towards his nephew's art. They were cartoony, which he didn't mind on principle, but more than that, they lacked polish, as the sketches had many anatomical issues and stylistic inconsistencies within the drawings of the characters featured. It was as if he copied designs off of the Pokemon show and tried to base his own style on that.

"So, whaddya think?" Harvey asked, shifting with his hands. "Do I have a shot at this?"

"Depends on where you want to go with this."

"I dunno, really. Maybe an animator or character designer. That would be awesome."

If Santiago was being honest, he wasn't sure he was cut out to follow in his footsteps like Sal did. Yet, it was unfair to compare his work to that of someone who possessed natural talent, despite the differences in species. Talented or not, the backbone to any good artist's oeuvre was a solid work ethic, and given enough time and discipline to practise, anyone could've made gold from their bronze.

"Well, my boy," Santiago said, handing him back the sketchbook, "You could work on a lot of things, but I see potential. If you would like, I would be willing to take you on. Are you in the area?"

"Um, actually, no," he said, scratching his head. "I kind of just came here to visit. I have a place in Violet City, but it's quite far from here."

"Well, if you want to stay close to me, my bedroom's upstairs. I'm sure I have a mattress I can pull up somewhere."

"No need," Harvey smiled, patting at his bag, "I've got the Maxcap right here. It can store pretty much anything you want, including beds, which I have with me right now. I just need a roof over my head. Thanks, though."

"Well, then that's settled."

Harvey made his own way up to his new room to unpack, and the rest of the day flew by. They discussed a schedule both Sal and Harvey would be comfortable sticking to. In return, Harvey would help with the cooking and anything else that needed maintenance. Having a trainer there who was more spry than he was made the work a little less taxing, after all.

In the meantime, Harvey brought his two Pokemon out, a Chikorita and a Machop, who looked at Sal curiously as he drew in his corner. Santiago observed Sal's behaviour, and although he was shy at first, ignoring them as they watched, once they started conversing, he stopped his work and started chatting with them. The Chikorita drew out the vines and shook his paw, which he smiled at, and by extension, Santiago smiled too. It was nice to see him getting along with other Pokemon after that last incident. Perhaps it would've been nice for him to have a playmate if Harvey's stay wasn't permanent. But if that wasn't the case, then who would take care of Sal after he was gone?