AN: A simple, fun story I can write when I have nothing better to do. The more astute readers may already know what this story is about, but if so, please don't post a review with an explanation; let everyone figure it out on their own.

Thanks for reading, hope to see you again soon. -D

Report Number: 213

Date: 21/2/13

Location: In the depths of scientific endeavor.

Time: 1:30 PM

Title: My Services Requested

Data: Contact has been established between myself and an enterprising individual with absolutely no illustrious background whatsoever. After lengthy discussion, as detailed in Report No. 164, agreement formed as to our similar goals.

Seven cups of coffee consumed during 'adult discussion'. Will not take responsibility for sixteen pencils now beyond recognition after contact expressed their nervousness through impressions on said pencils. EDIT: For future reference, 'impressions' may be defined as marks left by contact's sadly-abused molars.

Will continue to research violent storms located over major oceans, and therefore impacts on marine ecosystem. Contact insisted on my continued studying of the colloquially-termed 'whale song' at depths which no ordinary wailord could reach, but I remain unconvinced. Possible funds from successful conclusion will not cover the pressure-induced crushing of expensive lab equipment.

Absolutely refused to waste credits on investigating possible origins of Shamouti Islander legends. EDIT: For future reference, no shaky camera footage of something on fire falling from the sky and weird echoing squeaks will ever convince me of so-called 'titans' having something to do with the homoeostasis of the entire planet's water system.

Agreed to meet again. Will attempt to not tear hair from head while considering the next demands of unprofessional contact.

Conclusion: Meeting concluded. Will continue to detail clauses of agreement over future meetings.

Additional information: I hate my life.

She jumped as, again, a door was allowed to slam shut somewhere deeper within the bowels of the lab.

If there was something she hated about these meetings- or something she most hated, since none of it was giving her any warm, fuzzy feelings- it was being shut inside of a dead, steel room. There wasn't a single pokémon in sight. She couldn't hear the gentle tip-tapping of the early spring rain, or smell one of those deliciously flower-scented breezes either, heavy with essence a'la bellossom.

Not that she sneezed violently at the mere suggestion of such pollenated air. She was sniffling because... well... something got in her eye?

One of the passing scientists took pity on her. She nodded vigorously as he gave her directions and smiled until her lips were aching. "Thank you, thank you!"

Alice hated this place. She hated dead things. She made sure her feet stamped down loudly on the metal as she walked, drawing several angry or merely curious stares.

Funny how he'd somehow managed to fit her into his 'busy' schedule after she'd found it. The thing she hid in her shirt, refused to let him document or take pictures of. It never warmed against her skin, didn't dull with time or shine after vigorous rubbing. The edges cut into her soft skin whether Alice moved or not, but she had eventually gotten used to it. If anything, the cold made her feel good even inside of the dead lab. Nothing that was really dead could stay cold next to a warm body. It lived.

She allowed her hand to loosely hold itself over the invisible imprint of the trophy. Alice almost regretted that small comfort when she saw the barely-restrained eagerness in his eyes as he stared at her hand, opened the door and beckoned her in.

"So," the whitecoat began, seating himself in his oversized office chair. Alice let herself sink down on a leather-seated chair opposite his desk. Now away from prying eyes- aside from his- she let her hands pull it from her shirt, caressing over the delicate silver vanes, the sharp quill tip and the brilliantly shining feather tips.

He swallowed audibly at the sight. Alice shot a glare at him. It felt good to see him recoil, even if it was slight and only visible in the way he pushed his greasy fringe over his eyes.

"So. Last time we met, we discussed actually working together in the field. You absolutely refused, which leaves us at an impasse. You have not presented evidence as to why I should trust you take this mission seriously, and-"

"Are you kidding?!" Alice stood so she could stamp her jogger-shod foot.

The silver in her hands warmed slightly as it sensed her incensed emotions. Her hands shook as she laid it carefully on her vacated seat. The scientist waited impatiently for her to finish. "Am I kidding about what?"

"Are you- are you kidding about not trusting me? I know you don't, obviously, since you never give me written instructions on how to find your office-"

"I know your type, you'd probably break in to steal my research-"

"-And I know that all you want is my Silver Wing!"

He scowled at her. "Ridiculous. That cannot be genuine, and even if it is, what it can do is only explained in one of those Shamouti Islander legends. There is no evidence-"

"Shut up! It's real!" Alice burst out vehemently.

They glared at each other. She slowly pulled a pencil from her mouth, dripping with spit, and laid it on his desk. He sneered in disgust and pulled a rubbish bin out for her to roll it into. "There are healthier ways of dealing with stress, little Alice. Your teeth will not thank you for chewing on my pencils every time we meet- and how did you get this, anyway? I put all of them in my-"

"Top drawer. Behind the stapler."

His eyebrow twitched before he stop it. Amusement. Alice smiled inside, but kept her frown up and ready for action.

"And I am not little."

Having finished their introductory argument, Alice and Harry settled more comfortably into their opposing roles and even graced the other with a mutual grin. She dropped the Wing back down her shirt as she sat again.

Just to be safe.