The sign to the diner burned a neon red through the darkness of night. Rain hit the glowing letters and fizzled immediately, the low hum drowned out by the sound of pouring rain.
The tall, wide windows of the diner glowed, full of warm light and the lit faces of people, the surface muddled by streaks of rain. Sound of conversation, forks scraping against plates and the commotion of kitchen activity came from the outside, backed by the steady, muffled music.
"Can I ask you a serious question?"
Hilbert found himself sitting forward in the booth, hunched over his plate of scattered fries, holding a wadded up napkin in his fist. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts as his eyes darted up to the other side of the booth, looking as serious as he could muster.
Roxie was distracted. Sitting on the other side of the booth, she held an ice pack in one hand to her head, a fork held upright in a fist on the table's edge. Her attention was on the salad in front of her, the plate in front of her on the table. The salad dressing still sat in a neat pile atop it, not having been tossed yet. Frequently, her eyes darted up to the far side of the diner counter, watching the waitress wrestle with the coffee machine.
"And—I just want to make it clear up front," said Hilbert, "I'm one hundred percent serious, but this is a hypothetical. It's just something that's been on my mind lately and I can't seem to shake it."
When Hilbert looked up to Roxie to see if she had heard him, he found her continuing to stare at the waitress at the end of the counter. As he paused and waited, Roxie's eyes darted down towards his once, meeting for a single, tired second before darting back up to the single point of space they had been affixed to. The napkin wadded in Hilbert's fist fell, bouncing lightly in the center of his plate, moments before he shoved it to the edge of the table. He folded his hands together in the center of the table, hunched even closer to the table.
"When we were hanging out at Virbank Harbor yesterday and your dad showed up. There was something he said that I couldn't really shake," said Hilbert.
"What did Pops say?" Roxie droned, quietly.
"Well, it wasn't so much what he said, it's what happened after, actually, and—"
"What did Pops say?" Roxie asked again.
Hilbert took a moment to swallow, painfully. He cleared his throat a few times, hesitating and opening his hands in a pontificating gesture. "He... He said that he didn't—"
"Hey," Roxie said, loudly, cutting Hilbert off. She wasn't paying attention to him. The waitress had just passed their booth, and out of the corner of her eye, Roxie saw the waitress stop, taking a few steps back towards them. As she stopped to hover around the table, giving Roxie an attentive look, Roxie slowly lowered the ice pack from her head and set it on the table.
"Yes?"
"This salad is supposed to have cashews on it," said Roxie, clearing her throat and wincing from the pain.
Instead of saying anything, the waitress gawked silently, staring at the gash above Roxie's brow. When Roxie looked over to Hilbert, Hilbert was giving the same, blank and unusually focused stare at her brow. Out of the corner of her eye, Roxie saw the ice pack on the counter, oozing with blood.
The gash on Roxie's forehead was substantial, a wide red patch like a skinned knee above her brow. Blood oozed from it, interweaving with the icy strands of hair from her eyebrow. Just above it, a section of muscle was bruising deeply, turning a deep purple.
As Roxie opened her mouth to say something, looking up to the waitress, the blood from the gash dribbled down over her eyebrow and into her eye, making her wince and force it shut. She jammed the heel of her hand blindly against her eye. Half-blind, her other hand felt across the bare table surface and reached out to the waitress, gesturing and in an instant receiving napkins from the waitress. As the waitress went to say something, Roxie wadded up a napkin and stuffed it up against the gash, dabbing at her eye with another napkin.
Hilbert had taken the ice pack from the table's surface and, using his old, wadded-up napkin he cleaned the ice pack, then used his thumb to wipe away the french fry salt the napkin had put on it. Sucking the salt from his thumb, he set the ice pack down on the table and slid it back to Roxie, who caught it moments before it would've slid over the edge.
Before the waitress could say anything, Roxie grabbed the plate with the salad and handed it to her, clearing her throat and setting down the bloodied napkin she had been dabbing her eye with on the table.
"Cashews please," said Roxie.
Confused, the waitress gave a look to Roxie and then gave a look to an equally confused Hilbert. She nodded and didn't say anything, quickly disappearing down the aisle and heading into the kitchen.
Roxie swapped the soaked, bloody napkin for the ice pack, pressing it to the gash and wincing. She cleared her throat, grabbing for the iced tea on her table and taking a long, silent sip from the straw. Setting the glass down, she cleared her throat again.
Hilbert was slightly dumbstruck. He blinked several times, shaking off a strange, growing sensation he had in the back of his head.
"Jeez Roxie... Um... I thought you said you just tripped," said Hilbert.
"What did Pops say to you?" asked Roxie, snorting through her nose as she turned her full attention to Hilbert. The bags under her eyes had grown, exhaustion bleeding through.
"I... What?" Hilbert shook his head. A look of immense confusion appeared on his features. Narrowing his eyes, he hesitated, but found his courage returning. "Roxie, what in the name of the Great Sky happened to your friggin' face? You look like someone held you down and put a sander to your friggin' forehead."
"It's fine. What did Pops say to you?"
"The story wasn't about your dad. It was about something he said that was awfully similar to something I heard on the phone a few days ago. I just haven't had the chance to talk with you about it."
"You know, Hilbert," said Roxie. She hesitated for a moment, her eye darting down to her cheek. More blood had drooled from the gash on her brow, red droplets wobbling on her cheek. Sighing in exasperation, she grabbed a napkin, dabbing at the blood and putting a layer of napkin between her brow and the bloodied surface of the ice pack. "You know, you have an awfully hard time getting to the point of things, less a story."
Hilbert stared with a perplexed, deeply disturbed look. It took him a moment to realize his mouth was hanging open. He shook his head, forcing himself to break his train of thought and focus on the situation at hand. He grabbed for the frosty glass of Coke, putting the edge to his lips and draining the glass. Gulping down the sugary stuff, Hilbert jammed his eyes shut and shook his head, tucking his hair beneath his baseball cap.
"My... Uh... I was talking with Cheren on the phone earlier this week," said Hilbert.
"What? Cheren? Really? You must be honored."
"Shut up," said Hilbert. "He's coming into town for a visit, and so we caught up, briefly."
"Yeah, I guess you haven't talked with him for awhile," said Roxie, grabbing for her glass of iced tea again. She gave a passing look down the rows of booths and tables, looking at the far end of the diner counter to the empty door where the waitress should have been.
Hilbert cleared his throat. "Four months," he said. "He didn't know I had been in the band with you, if you can believe that. That's how long it's been."
"Yeah. And you tell everyone."
"Shut up," said Hilbert. "He was surprised, actually. Do you know what he said?"
"What did he say?" asked Roxie, as deadpan as possible. "Did he say what Pops said?"
"He said that he was very surprised, he didn't expect that of me. It's almost out of character for me."
"That's not what Pops said," said Roxie.
Hilbert had been staring off into the dark outside the rain-streaked window, at the empty street across from the diner. His attention broke, and he turned to face Roxie. As he thought about what Roxie had said, he suddenly froze, giving Roxie the most loaded of looks.
"Wait—" Hilbert began. He cut himself off.
The waitress returned, salad plate in hand, the surface of it littered with cashews. She set it on the table with a gentle clatter, stuffing several papery napkins beneath the edge of the plate and a fresh set of silverware. She set a thick stack of napkins on the other side of the plate, pinching a dry end of Roxie's bloody pile of napkins and taking them onto an empty, crumb-littered plate she already had in her hand.
Without saying anything, the waitress lingered for a moment at the edge of the table, as if to say something but instead waited for Roxie to speak up or do anything.
Roxie let out a sigh, grabbing for a fork. As she removed the ice pack and napkin, giving her attention to the waitress and opening her mouth to thank her, blood dribbled from the ice pack and onto the salad. Roxie didn't say a word, only looking down to the salad, looking where the blood had oozed onto the milky dressing.
The waitress spoke up to interrupt the scene and try and fix it, her features blanching at the sight of the ruined salad, but Roxie cleared her throat loudly enough to shut down the entire scene. As Roxie slid the salad to the side of the table, scooting herself along the booth bench to the edge, the waitress took a few steps back and gave Roxie room to get out.
Hilbert put on a diplomatic smile and turned to the waitress to speak, shifting and twisting himself on the bench to reach for his wallet. As he got his wallet out, Roxie interrupted.
"Shut up Hilbert," said Roxie. "Let me just clean myself up in the bathroom. Forget the salad."
Roxie scooped up the ice pack and the bloodied napkin, hastily stuffing it agaisnt the wound over her brow and covering it up. Wincing, feeling more blood leak and run around the curve of her brow, Roxie picked up the pace and headed straight for the bathroom at the far end of the rows of booths. The thin metal door slammed, wobbling precariously as she locked the door and disappeared.
The waitress lingered, watching the bathroom door silently. She gave a passing look to the salad and then to Hilbert.
"I... I'm sorry... We'll make the salad free," the waitress stammered.
Hilbert shook his head. He popped the latch of his wallet open and pulled out a debit card, passing it up to the waitress.
"I've got it," he said.
With the card pinched between her fingers, the waitress froze for a moment. She hastily removed the folded bill tray from her apron, turning and heading down to the end of the dining counter.
Alone at the table, Hilbert hesitated. He checked his the Xtransceiver on his wrist, then reached down into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Hunched over, resting his phone in his lap, he flipped through pages of content silently, scrolling and stopping often at key posts or photos, saving pictures he liked in particular.
When the waitress returned, she let out a yelp of surprise. Hilbert ignored it, and she set the bill on the edge of the table.
"Sorry! Didn't see you there..." said the waitress. "Where did you come from...?"
Hilbert furrowed his brow, shaking his head. He continued to read from his phone, but decided there wasn't much of a point, locking the screen and setting it on the table.
Something seemed to confuse Hilbert about the question. He raised his head.
"What do you mean? I've been here the whole—Oh—!"
Hilbert jumped, the bench of his side of the booth rattling in its place. Hilbert's widening eyes threatened to leap from their sockets as he locked eyes with the girl across from him in the booth, and it wasn't Roxie. He grabbed at the edge of the seat to stabilize himself, swallowing carefully and putting a hand over his collar to slow his breathing.
"I'll... Sorry, thanks—thanks for coming!" said the waitress. She left in a haste, folding her arms together and hiding her embarrassed face, making straight for the kitchen.
Across from Hilbert, the new girl was amused by the unfolding scene. Her deep, starry blue eyes followed the waitress in the moments before she disappeared into the kitchen, chuckling as she turned her attention to Hilbert. She pursed her lips, blowing her thick, wavy bangs out from her eyes. Her slender arms were folded on the table, pale and lightly sunkissed. She wore a thin black vest and a white tank top. A white hat with a pink bill adorned her, completely dry from the rain outside, holding back a massive mess of brown, smoothed-down wavy hair, running down her back and exploding out from beneath the sides of her hat. Gracefully, she gave a full-teeth smile, bringing out the dimples in her cheeks. A light smattering of freckles dotted the left cheek, an abstraction among her porcelain skin.
A thin pair of eyebrows arched with skepticism. "Did I throw you for a loop, cowboy?" she asked.
Hilbert realized he was staring. He shook himself from his daydreaming momentarily, sitting himself upright, uncomfortably. He cleared his throat a few times, taking in a deep snort of air.
"Most people I know who sit with me actually know me," said Hilbert. Something turned on deep inside Hilbert, like he was drawing in more detail. He noticed an accent. "I'd forgive you. It doesn't sound like you're necessarily from around here, are you?"
"What, me? I'm as Unovan as Sawsbuck and pizza. Born and raised in Castelia City my whole life," she said.
Hilbert's brow furrowed. The accent was gone. Nevertheless, he shook off the strange feeling he was getting, pressing on.
"I just usually expect to know the person I'm sitting with, first," he said.
"Who really knows anyone?" she asked in turn.
Hilbert narrowed his eyes at her.
"Well, I at least expect to know the name of whoever I'm sitting with."
"Hilda," she smiled.
Something about Hilbert's features lightened. He seemed less confused, a bit more in control, a bit more charismatic. His fingers drummed against the table as he visually tried to piece her apart, determining who or what she was.
"What does 'SG' stand for?" asked Hilda.
Hilbert's attention shifted to his wallet. On the fat, bulging side of it the glossy sticker label of an emblem, 'SG', cartoonishly drawn, had been stuck to it. He took his debit card and the receipt from the tray at the end of the table, folding the receipt and flipping around his wallet to slip the card in. He held the wallet out in front of him, the label visible to him and Hilda. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hilda looking at both the sticker and him, waiting on a reply.
"It stands for 'Some Girls'," said Hilbert.
"What does 'Some Girls' mean?"
"It's the name of my band," said Hilbert.
"Your band?"
Hilbert gave a terrible, cheesy grin, snickering to himself and looking up to Hilda. When he met with the same, blank and interested stare that she had been giving him the whole time. Shaking off the feeling, he took the wallet and slipped it into his pocket, sighing and folding his hands on the table.
"Yeah. Well, me and a friend."
"What kind of music do you play?" asked Hilda.
"Rock music. Loud rock and roll. It's a lot of fun," said Hilbert. "I'm the lead singer."
A beat of silence passed. Hilda continued to smile, looking between her hands and at the many colorful bands adorning her wrists. Outside, the rain continued to pour and hit the windows, and in the silence of the conversation the music from the jukebox became more audible.
As the silence went on, Hilbert heard a chuckling. He looked up, seeing Hilda and her amusement with the situation.
"What's so funny?" Hilbert asked.
"Nothing! Nothing is funny," said Hilda. "It's just that being in a rock band isn't the priority of most teenage boys."
Hilbert sat back, more confused than offended. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Is it wrong to be in a rock band? It's a fine profession."
"It is."
"Then what do you suppose is an applicable hobby for most boys my age?" Hilbert asked.
"Being a Pokemon Trainer."
Hilbert visibly cringed. He tried to hide it, looking down and steadying himself where he sat. Beneath the table, his sneakers audibly squealed on the linoleum of the diner floor. Taking a deep breath, Hilbert resumed his participation in the conversation.
Hilda noticed. Her eyes followed every little movement of Hilbert's, from the shuffling feet she could only hear, the creak of the bench that Hilbert sat on as he readjusted himself, the unusual flexing of his hands as they held one another. She took a deep breath and refocused herself, listening to Hilbert's uncomfortable attempts at keeping up with her.
"What's so great about being a Pokemon Trainer anyway?" asked Hilbert, taking another, audible deep breath. He avoided eye contact with her, instead choosing to look at his warped reflection in the dark window.
"What's so great about being a rock star?" asked Hilda.
Hilbert gave Hilda a passing glance. "Plenty of people are rock stars."
"Plenty of people are Pokemon Trainers. What's your point?" asked Hilda.
"No, exactly my point. I mean—friggin'—what's your point?" asked Hilbert, somewhat exasperated. His eyes raced around the room as he realized he was raising his voice. Instead he leaned in, lowering his voice. "The world is saturated with Pokemon Trainers. Everyone wants to be a Pokemon Trainer. What's one less? Isn't it better if I do something I actually care about? Isn't that actually a benefit to society? Maybe I just want to be in a rock and roll band with my best friend. Is that too weird?"
"Maybe it's not your destiny."
"W... What...?" Hilbert was dumbstruck. He closed an eye, rubbing it therapeutically. "What's destiny got to do with it?"
"Plenty of people are Pokemon Trainers because it's great. Doesn't mean they are any good at it."
"But... What... What?" Hilbert gave Hilda the most confused look he could muster. "What makes you think that I'd be good at it?"
"I'm not assuming you'd be good at it. I'm just asking why," said Hilda. Despite Hilbert's incredulity she pressed on, unfazed by any of it. "It's an attractive prospect and I don't see why you've waited so long to get on with it."
Hilbert shook his head, sighing. He removed his baseball cap, feathered tufts of brown hair sticking up in odd shapes and slowly expanding as he set the hat down, running his hands through his hair as he held his head in his hands. He let out a quiet groan, shaking his head.
Across the table, Hilda looked on silently. The curious smile on her face had faded moments ago, full of solemn reality. Her eyes seemed to glow in the warm light of the diner. Her gaze flitted across the warmly lit tables of the diner, looking past Hilbert as she waited for him.
"That's just it, isn't it?" said Hilbert.
Hilda nodded sagely. "I think it's something we both know."
"What?" asked Hilbert. Incredulity came through the quiet, muffled tone he had. "You've picked up on the fact that I'm nineteen? That's a boss piece of detective work you've got there."
"Lucky guess."
"It's a convenient guess," Hilbert fired back, cutting off any point that Hilda was about to make. "It's convenient how that little detail about me fits so perfectly into your narrative—this weird, friggin' idea that I should be a Pokemon Trainer."
"Again, a lucky guess."
"Yeah, I get it," said Hilbert. "I'm nineteen and the cut off for getting a starter Pokemon is twenty. It's not even a real cut-off, it's just the only way to get a Pokemon from any reputable lab and do the whole big Pokemon adventure thing. I can get a Pokemon any time I want. But—friggin'—it's not even that though! Do you think because I'm nineteen and don't have a Pokemon it doesn't ever come up? Do you know how many of my mom's friends have to tell me that it's 'wise' to get a Pokemon?"
Hilda let out a sigh. Where her hands folded together and rested on the table counter, Hilda pulled them apart and reached for the baseball cap on her head, removing it and setting it so that it faced Hilbert's cap on the table. The true dense mess of her hair was revealed, a thick jungle of wavy brown hair that hung over her shoulders like a hanging garden. She straightened her ponytail, brushing the bangs out of her eyes and sitting forward.
"I don't know your name, I don't know much about you or your band," said Hilda. "I don't know that we'll meet again. Let's say it's random that you and I met tonight, and it may very well never happen again."
"It feels a little more than random to me," said Hilbert.
"I don't choose the lonely, artistic and horny boys that I have bizarre, rambling conversations with," said Hilda. "They just happen. I'm not sad. I'm sure there's a better way I could've spent tonight but I don't regret it either."
"I just don't understand what the stick up your butt is about my friggin' hobbies," said Hilbert.
"My point about being a Pokemon Trainer is incidental, it's... Minor," she said. "The real point is—"
"What? What is the point?" asked Hilbert, his frustration coming through.
"—is that whatever you take from my being here is on you. I can be the crazy, strange trailer-trash girl who had a stick up her butt about your 'friggin' hobbies," said Hilda, "or I could be someone else entirely."
"Someone who was right?"
"Someone who cared enough for a moment to let you know you could miss a great opportunity. I don't know what's happened in your life, I don't know why this topic makes you uncomfortable and annoys the hell out of you, but if I can step into your life and have you take a few steps back for a moment to see it all, I'll be glad all the same to have you come out more hellbent on one side or the other. Whether you decide to hate the path of the Pokemon Trainer more because of me tonight or decide to consider an opportunity before it passes you up, I only care that I told you the truth."
"Okay, I get it," said Hilbert. "You're not just someone who's right because they are, you're my guardian angel."
Hilda smiled, chuckling under her breath. "Sure."
A smile appeared on Hilbert's face. Something genuine appeared in his eyes as he looked up into Hilda's eyes, meeting for a moment with genuinity.
"Are you playing a show soon?" asked Hilda.
"21st," grinned Hilbert.
"So... Friday?"
"Yeah, Friday, sorry," said Hilbert. Grabbing for his phone on the counter, he opened it up, flipping through pages of apps quickly as he raced for the right one.
"Where at?"
"Cold Storage. It's a club off of—"
"In Driftveil?" asked Hilda.
Hilbert looked up from his phone, somewhat taken aback. He wasn't disturbed, and in fact he smiled.
"What's your number?" asked Hilbert. He finally reached the calendar on his phone, and after swiping through to the right day, he opened up the date, and—
Hilda was gone.
Hilbert sat up, sleepily, like he was leaving a hypnotic trance. Brow furrowed, he shook a strange feeling off of his shoulders as he sat up, searching the diner. His head turned, looking back over his shoulder towards the front of the diner, looking at the door, not seeing any indication that it had even opened or closed. Back to his other side, Hilbert nearly leaped out of his seat trying to see the path leading up to the entrance, trying to see any indication that Hilda was leaving. She had completely vanished.
As Hilbert sat back down, slowly, staring blankly ahead at the booth across from him, Hilda seemingly vanished, he reveled in silent confusion and sat himself back, carefully
The thin door to the bathroom rattled, opening wide. Roxie eased herself out of the tiny doorway, rounding the corner and nearly tripping herself, walking down the aisleway between the booths until she reached Hilbert. The ice pack and napkin contraption that she had put together was replaced by a patch of gauze and tape, making her look somewhat presentable. The bleeding had subsided.
Roxie's dim, tired outlook hadn't changed. She looked at everything through tired eyes, even as she clumsily slid herself into the booth. She winced as she eased her back into the booth, finding where she had been sitting moments earlier. Letting out a sigh, she reached for her glass of iced tea and took a long sip, oblivious to anything that had happened.
In the middle of the sip, Roxie looked up. Hilbert's stare was locked dead on her, practically boring a hole into her skull, staring right through her. She finished the sip, shaking off the chill she got in her shoulders and straightening herself.
"What's wrong?" asked Roxie.
"Where did you go?"
"The bathroom. What did I miss?"
"Everything."
Roxie's boots crunched on the wet soil. With her head hanging low and the hood on her head, watching her steps as she carefully placed herself on top of the rock, he took a deep breath and looked out into the darkness ahead of her. Above the endless expanse of shadow, the craggy tips of the trees could barely be seen, lit dimly in the backdrop of Virbank City.
Down below, several feet away from where the land sloped up to meet the rock, Hilbert stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his blue jacket. He straightened the rain-drenched bill of his hat, drawing the hood over his hat tighter. Squinting through the darkness, Hilbert could just see the dark form of Roxie standing on the rocks, taller and higher than he had imagined. His eyes widened, his breath picking up.
Roxie slipped the sleeve of her striped hoodie back and held her hand out. The rain dribbled on the candy-colored shell of her Pokeball.
"Go, Koffing," said Roxie, her voice as flat and tired as it was before. Clicking the release in, she lobbed the Pokeball up through the darkness where it whizzed silently, passing beyond where she could see. Moments later, a bright explosion of red light erupted. A gust of wind pummeled her, making her squint as red light bathed her features.
"Nnnnggghuuu..."
Koffing groaned, impossible to see in the darkness. As the lingering light of the Pokeball evaporated, his dark, basketball-sized form hurtled down towards the forest floor. The only sound that came was the quiet sound of bouncing plastic as the Pokeball landed. A horrific, putrid smell rose from the earth, distinct and familiar to Roxie.
"Koffing, flash."
"Nnnghh. Koff."
A bright light sparked for just a moment, appearing deep within Koffing's body before fading out. The light pulsed again, glowing dimly, lighting the dozens of craters lining Koffing's body and coming through the cracks in its clay skin. Suspended in mid-air over the forest valley like an alien's disco ball, the light flashed and burned brightly, shining like spotlights through the various holes and lighting the forest floor in dim points of light.
Hilbert watched silently, mesmerized, ignoring the rain that patted on the hood of his jacket. The light from the various portholes passed over him as Koffing turned, the dim outline of the light behind his eyes glowing in the darkness, a crooked smile glowing.
Koffing opened his mouth, light flooding out in a single, large spotlight. A large, gaseous cloud of poison belched out from inside him, particles of junk fluttering in the light. His backlit eyes affixed to Hilbert, watching as he covered his face from the blinding spotlight and coughed out the scattering, foul-smelling poison. The craters on his body fired puffs of gas like retrorockets, turning him to face the valley of the forest floor and pointing the light down.
The light from Koffing's mouth spread over the forest. The dark, gnarled roots of trees appeared, buried deep in the muddied, pine needle covered floor. A gravel path appeared, snaking through the trees and ferns that had gathered between the trees.
Hilbert took the first few careful steps down through the forest valley. His sneakers found the crunching gravel, leading him down several quick drops and down towards the trees. He gave a passing look back to the empty street behind him and the glow of the diner far behind him, but quickly whipped his head around to look into the forest, hearing the bushes rustle with wild Pokemon. Moving carefully, Hilbert lowered himself down towards the forest floor, grasping the wet rock beside him.
Overhead, the racing footsteps made Hilbert's head look up. Roxie skittered off the rock, her hiking boots digging into the dirt that sloped around the rock towards the path below, kicking up pine needles as she tried to slow herself. A few shuffling, quickly sliding steps down the rock, Roxie watched the toes of her boots skid towards a rocky ledge. She leaped off from the dirt slope, missing the ledge entirely and send her hurtling towards the trail beneath. She landed on her feet, her legs springing down as she eased the impact of the landing. Her legs burned from the impact, forcing her forward onto her hands.
"Koff... Grrunnuuhh..."
A stink cloud erupted around Koffing's topmost hemisphere. He slowly glided down from the heights he hovered at, approaching Roxie's side and turning his mouth spotlight down the trail ahead.
The light surrounding Roxie grew brighter, the spread area of light shrinking down as Koffing as approached. Roxie shook off the pain and put her feet beneath her, standing herself up. Her hands clapped together, knocking the mud and debris from her palms. As she listened to Hilbert's crunching footsteps approach from behind, she spotted where Koffing's Pokeball had landed. She reached down and grabbed it, rubbing it once on her shorts and pocketing it. In the bushes beside where the Pokeball had landed, a tail snaked away and hid, something that Roxie saw and remained wary of.
"What did Cheren call to talk to you about?" asked Roxie.
As Hilbert headed down the path, watching his footsteps in the dim lighting and passing around Roxie, he gave a confused look. He looked up to her, meeting with her blank stare.
"I told you about that, right?"
"Yeah, well, you told me about how what he said sounded like Pops," said Roxie. "That it seemed out of character for you to be in a rock band."
Hilbert kept his hands in his pockets, looking at Roxie with a puzzled look. Something seemed off about the question, or at least how she was asking. Though he was looking at her, trying to make some semblance of eye contact, she continued to stare ahead, watching as Koffing's light wandered lazily beside her, casting wavering shadows over the trees.
"Cheren's coming up for my birthday."
"What?" Roxie immediately fired back.
Hilbert's expression turned sheepish. "Why? Are birthdays for sissies now?" he asked defensively. "Now are you going to say I'm doing something out of character?"
Roxie shook her head silently, scowling under her breath. "No, that's not what I was getting at, like, at all. I just think it's weird," she said.
Hilbert paused for a moment, mulling it over. "Why is it weird?" he asked.
"I mean, in all the times we've hung out—and we hang out a lot," said Roxie. "You never seem to bring him up. You've mentioned him like twice, and even then it was just to say that he was someone you knew. I know he's a childhood friend, but you haven't heard from him in years. Now that he shows up out of nowhere, you just listen to his advice blindly?"
Roxie started down the trail. She snapped her fingers, getting Koffing's attention and getting him to follow, pointing his light lazily down the path. The path bent, curving around a dense set of trees and sloping down deeper into the forest.
"I take his advice with a grain of salt like everyone," said Hilbert. He had stopped in the place he and Roxie had been standing in, watching her with slight annoyance. As the light from Koffing passed over and faded from his place, he walked down the path, following close behind Roxie and Koffing.
"Really? Then what was that whole conversation we had earlier?"
"What? Friggin'—that was the whole point! That was the whole point of that conversation earlier! I heard it twice," said Hilbert. "Twice! Three times now, now that the girl from earlier was talking about it."
"Pfff. You mean little miss convenient?" scoffed Roxie. "Some girl shows up that I've never met, probably never will meet, and says something that confirms everything that you believe and were trying to convince me of earlier? I go to the bathroom and suddenly there's this brand new, holy revelation that's been revealed to you and only you, all in the short span of a quick trip to the bathroom. Seriously, that's the best you could come up with? I'm sure next time you don't wanna tell someone you're a virgin you'll tell another story about Miss 'Hilberina' too."
"Her name was Hilda," Hilbert seethed, keeping pace beside Roxie. A dull, angry stare bore out of his eyes.
The path had become obscured. Matted sections of wild grass were the only indication there was a path through the tall grass. As Koffing rose behind Roxie, bearing the light from his mouth over the gently wavering grass. The dark outlines of trees littered the grassy path. Sounds of chirping and low, quiet growls littered the narrow fields. Just beyond the dark mass at the end of the fields, the last section of forest, the city lights of Aspertia Town glimmered softly.
Out of exhaustion, Roxie reached down beneath the length of her hoodie, grasping for her short pockets and wrestling through the insides, finding another Pokeball. Though she went to throw it, she hesitated for a moment, thinking. She turned to Hilbert, sighing.
"Hilbert, I like you. You're a great guy. Don't quit the band over something silly like this," said Roxie. "We really need you. I need you."
Hilbert smiled in the darkness. "I won't."
Roxie looked down to the Pokeball in her hand once again. She lobbed it, sending it in a straight arc, glowing brightly in Koffing's light. The grass lain in darkness rustled as the Pokeball fell. The explosion of red light that arced from it flashed beneath the grass, fading in moments as a new Pokemon skittered out. Moments later, Venipede crawled out from the grass and into Koffing's light, its own Pokeball pinched in its front pincers.
Something seemed solemn about Roxie's expression. She looked out tiredly at the fields of grass, only looking down to see Venipede as he crawled up to her and dropped the Pokeball at the toe of her boot. As Venipede snaked out, the patterns on his body armor glowing phosphorously, Roxie turned her attention towards the forest in the distance, watching Aspertia's lights twinkle in the swaying branches.
"I'm really looking forward to our first show in Friday," said Roxie. "I really think—"
Roxie cut herself off, listening to the sudden rise in chittering from Venipede. Her head whipped around, looking towards a dark section of wild grass as Venipede's back arched and rose sharply above the topmost layers of grass, his whole body bearing down on something squirming in the grass. Shrill, animal screeches interweaved with Venipede's hissing, the sounds of Venipede's sharp pincers biting into the wild Pokemon. Limbs kicked and knocked grass aside, rustling through the grass, until finally they stopped abruptly. The top of Venipede's glowing body rose, snaking through the grass silently.
Roxie cleared her throat.
"I really think that we could do something amazing."
A/N
Thanks for reading!
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