Prologue Part I

And so we must be thankful

Despite false starts and bitter ends

Here and there we are grateful

To have our monsters among our friends.

"Come on now, loosen up. We've had a rough week; I'm not going to deny that. But that doesn't mean we need to sit here all tensed up, either. Live a little, Thibault. I wouldn't have brought you here if I thought you wouldn't enjoy it."

The man raised his cigarette to his lips and drew in a hit, temporarily illuminating the tip of his nose with an orange glow like the proverbial Rudolph the Red-Nosed Stantler as his eyes wandered across the smoky haze of the cabaret, his gaze lingering on any scantily clad waitress who happened to cross in from his peripheral. The man practiced what he preached, at least; despite his formal attire, everything about him was relaxed and casual. He'd put his feet up on the empty table chair in front of him, he'd loosened the bow tie he'd so painstakingly put together in order to get past the doorman, and as he lowered his light he released the smoke in a slow, lazy manner, adding the swirling, gray tendrils to the mass of others that already hung themselves thick in the air above him. Emile LaRousse couldn't be more unwound if he'd tried to be, and tonight, it was his turn to have a little fun. So what better place for him to do then to spend his money in Lumiose City's classiest venue?

And truth be told, it was one of the best places Thibault had been to. Pokemon weren't allowed in many of the good places since they primarily catered to humans, but ever since the petition that allowed Kalosite Pokemon to work as entertainers passed, there'd been an increase in the number of clubs, theaters and cabarets that had redacted that rule…provided they arrived with their sponsor, of course.

It still seemed too good to be true, and so the Aromatisse sat as stiff as a board as patrons human and Pokemon milled around him, eyes alert for any suspicious looks from other humans or any police officers ready to capture and detain him for whatever infraction they could think to impose…they wouldn't mess with him, he tried to tell himself. Both he and Emile were members of Team Flare, and important ones at that, and it just so happened that this particular cabaret saw a good number of members on a daily basis. They are sympathetic to our cause, he reminded himself. They care about me. They let me become an Administrator and gave me permission to use my powers, even though the rest of Kalos says that Pokemon should be something to be regulated and monitored. I'm safe here. I'm among friends.

"Thibault, are you even listening to me? Thibault!"

Emile's eyes were off the floor now, and Thibault immediately snapped out of his reverie with a shake of his head, causing the collection of hoops in one of his ears to jangle with the movement. "Yes, sorry," he replied somewhat sheepishly, red eyes quickly scanning the area one last time before coming to a rest on his partner.

"I said that you might enjoy this particular show tonight…it said in the marquee that they have one of the best Pokemon performing troupes since the petition. What better way to forget a week of failures than boozing up and enjoying beautiful women…or females, if you so prefer that term."

Thibault shrugged, claws wrapping around his glass as he tipped the contents into his mouth. He would prefer not to argue with Emile, for he knew that any other tone short of portraying absolute rapture would spark too many questions, and the Aromatisse was not in the mood for an interview. He might as well pretend he was relaxing and having fun…after a few more drinks, that wasn't hard to do.

Finally, the house lights dimmed and a single spotlight flickered to life, the operator swinging it towards the stage just as the cabaret owner, a middle-aged, portly woman who despite the years of stress in show business still managed to look and act 20 years younger than she really was, walked toward the center of the stage with her Jynx partner and took the microphone being handed to her by one of the stagehands waiting in the orchestra pit.

"Welcome!" Her voice rang out like a klaxon over the speakers, causing Thibault to flinch and set his ears back while Emile sucked in a breath so sharp his partner was afraid he'd draw his entire smoke into his mouth. After the hour of quiet, subdued conversation and hushed words spoken between patrons and servers, it was a little jarring to suddenly have this woman shouting into an amplifier as if the cabaret were actually a rowdy brawling stadium clamoring for the main event fight. "Welcome, one and all, to the Café Lumiére! As you may have heard, we have a special treat for you all tonight…the Fleur Ladies performing group has decided, for one week only, to appear and perform for all you lucky, lucky men and males here in Lumiose City!"

Applause roared about the house, and the matron waited for it to die down before continuing on.

"I'm sure you're all eager to watch the show, so I'll keep this short. Respect the ladies and keep your hands to yourselves, please! As always there is no flash photography allowed during the performance, as it can disorient the performers, and please, no tipping until after the show! Delilah and I will be around enforcing the rules, so boys, don't think you can sneak one by us!"

A small ripple of laughter passed through the crowd, and Emile smirked at the comment. Thibault decided that he wasn't going to chance trying the cabaret owner's warning, and simply played with the stem of his glass as he waited for the house to quiet down again.

"Now, without further ado, I present to you the first act of our show!"

Again the house erupted into cheers as the spotlight dimmed, and Emile reached over to give his partner's feathered back a heavy pat. "Like I said, you're not going to be disappointed, Thibault. There's someone in the headliner that I'm sure you're going to like very much."

"You said that the last time you introduced me to a female," Thibault replied drily, causing his partner to chuckle. "And it turned out she was a wanted Kantonese criminal."

"Oh, like you're any better," Emile quipped, stubbing out the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray on the table before fishing another from his jacket. "Now shut up and watch."

"'Shut up and watch'," Thibault mocked his partner playfully, turning his eyes to the stage as a slow piano melody struck up from the orchestra and the spotlight flicked back on. There was no one on stage at the moment, but as the piano slowly picked up tempo, the curtains shifted in the way that always indicated movement backstage…then a leg appeared from behind the curtain (decidedly Pokemon), and the piano halted abruptly, a drum roll starting up to take its place.

Then the curtain parted, and Thibault's breath caught in his throat.

She was beautiful.

Even dressed to the nines in the common cabaret showgirl attire, Thibault could see that everything she had done to spruce herself up only augmented the natural beauty that shone from beneath…the sheen of her feathers did not need the glitter she'd applied to make them sparkle in the stage lights, her eyelashes (much like his own) already plump and perfect enough to defy any application of mascara, and her voice…dear Arceus, her voice. The moment she opened her mouth, the male was immediately sold. She could serenade him for the rest of the night; for the rest of the week for that matter, and he wouldn't care the slightest bit.

Emile must have noticed his reaction because Thibault could see him wink from his peripheral, but the Aromatisse was still too transfixed by the female onstage to care about his partner's actions. Others had joined her, but Thibault was hooked on the amethyst girl with the voice like Sweet Honey, and to him, none of the others even came close to comparing.

Then she started walking down the stairs and into the audience, and Thibault's ears began to flatten back as his face grew hot. Part of him, perhaps the intoxicated part, wanted her to come over to their table so that he could touch every part of her. He wanted to run his claws through that silky down, he wanted to taste that silvery beak. He wanted to smell whatever particular scent she used to identify herself, as Aromatisse traditionally had their own smell (along with the thousands of others they could devise at will) that was as unique as their name. But the other part knew that would be out of line, and if the club matron caught him breaking the rules, he would be shown the door very, very quickly. And then, Emile would never let him hear the end of that.

His eyes followed her just as quickly as the spotlight did, and he watched somewhat jealously as she flirted with some of the other males with their sponsors in the audience. Despite the fact that the patrons weren't allowed to touch the performers, the performers were allowed to touch them, and this particular woman did so in an unrelentingly teasing fashion. She loosened ties, took men's glasses to take her own drink, smoked lit cigarettes, touched her beak to snouts and noses without quite calling it a kiss…all the while it left many of them flustered and red in the face, while more than a few of them stood up and awkwardly made their way to the washrooms in order to take care of themselves. Thibault couldn't blame them…it was torture, being so close to something so beautiful and not being able to reciprocate…feelings of love, feelings of lust, whatever was going on in their minds when that charming vixen appeared at their side.

And then suddenly, she was in front of him.

The female leaned forward as Thibault's ears sprang straight up, his hoops clinking together as he tried to hide the nervous tremors that had suddenly overtaken him. She seemed just as calm and collected as she had been with the rest of the males, and it was no surprise to him at all when she reached a claw up to his neck, playing with the matching red bowtie he'd put on to match Emile. She fiddled with the petals for a moment before slowly undoing his knot, bringing her beak so close to his that for a moment, he thought she was going to kiss him, unlike the others. All the while she was singing in that sultry mezzosoprano tone…the world could explode right now and Thibault wouldn't even notice, if only he could keep staring into those hypnotic, half-lidded eyes of hers.

Then she re-tied his tie, ending her song on a perfectly-pitched high note as she did so, discreetly slipping a piece of paper into his collar before pushing him away, hips wiggling a bit as she made her way back to the stage. Every bone in his body felt like it had been liquiefied; Thibault couldn't even bring himself to applaud as the rest of the performers returned and the next number began. He was frozen as solid as a Glalie's armor; he didn't even think to reach for the piece of paper she'd given him until Emile looked over to him and pointed it out.

"Ahaha, looks like you're one lucky male tonight, Thibault old boy," Emile smirked, plucking the card out from beneath the Aromatisse's tie and displaying the inscription: a name, embossed within a gold star.

"Esme," Emile read for him, that smirk on his face growing into a shit-eating grin. "Must be her name. Scooooooore~!"

Thibault acknowledged his partner with only the slightest of nods, his eyes still transfixed to the Aromatisse performer…the one who was apparently called Esme. Perhaps it was the booze that was making him feel this way, but for this Team Flare administrator, tonight he had found someone who had stolen his heart away.

And you could bet your bottom dollar that he was going to make sure she knew it.