Part II
A week later, the lingering feeling behind J's temples that indicated that something heavily out of the ordinary had conspired was still there, but had quieted down considerably. Her crew had been just as confused as she had been, but they had failed much harder than her at concealing it. She had been faced with questions of "how?" and "how the hell?" several times, but had only given the scarcest of all answers. "Because." Or, in a variant: "Because so." She didn't have the nerves to tell them that she had paid for her freedom by basically selling her reputation, but it was easier paying that no attention than to mull over how she was getting out of this unharmed. After all, so far, she hadn't heard so much as a tweet from her savior, and she was glad for that, for it gave her the illusion that the issue had been closed and forgotten for all of time.
Sadly, it hadn't been, and as aware as J had been of that immoveable fact, it hit her as hard a brick on sound velocity in the stomach when it came to actual points of fulfillment.
It wasn't something out of the usual for her henchmen to be trembling in fear when they approached her with their concerns, nor was it unusual for them to start stuttering once she had declared them free to speak. What was unusual, though, and therefore back into the theme of the whole endeavor, was that the henchman didn't even get to speak for himself. Instead, the woman decided to introduce her business right by herself.
J had almost jumped out of her chair by sheer surprise when Sabrina walked into the command centre of her ship. It was one thing for a human being to be able to teleport- that was something J might be able to wrap her mind around in time, but apparently teleporting onto the deck of a flying ship, which was several thousand meters airborne, that was something new for sure.
The psychic didn't seem to be impressed with anything, neither her extraordinarily talent not the high end layout of the ship when she approached J.
"We need to go shopping."
There were moments in J's life when she supposed, had she the right weapons on hand and available right away, she would have gone on a murder spree. In 99% of her cases, the source of her irritation were other human beings, and in 90% of such cases, it were her henchmen acting up or failing her that would make her blood boil in the most fatal of always.
The henchmen that had dared not to cover his mouth in time to hide his delightful gurgle should have felt lucky that she was simply not in the mood today to stain her clothes with his freshly splashing blood.
And it would be a shame to ruin her clothes, seeing as how shopping, of all the things possible, was punched onto her timetable today.
She rubbed her temples, forcefully reminding herself that this was the woman who had freed her, and disobeying her might result in yet another unwillingly visit to the paddy wagon.
"Fine, okay…" She waved her hand, and no sooner than she had said these words, she was warped away to…somewhere. The air pressed out of her lungs forcefully, and her senses being scrambled like an egg in a frying pan, it took her a minute to reassemble herself, before she was able to take in her surroundings and doing a quick check-up on where she might have ended up.
From the looks of it, it was...well, a shopping centre. J crossed her arms, showing her discomfort as openly as she could without resorting to actual facial expressions.
Which bore just perfectly for the two individuals, as one was unwilling to show emotions, and the other plain unable to read them correctly.
J supposed that there was at least some kind of logic behind it. One went shopping in a shopping centre, right? That was what the name implied, right? Still, it seemed so entirely out of place to be standing in front of the fancy white building with the glass walls that she hadn't entirely discarded the probability of still being asleep, or alternatively, having the misfortune of her head steersman having piloted the ship into a mountain and her hitting her head on the control panel.
"Ah, here you are!" A light, entirely too feminine voice called from some place to their right, and J had to repress the urge to jump a few meters straight into the air again as a woman who had been sitting and seemingly napping peacefully on the stony rim of a fountain sprung to life and ambushed them.
Sabrina, though, was as cool as usually, apparently recognizing the woman that had approached them. "Thank you for agreeing to help, Erika."
The blue-haired woman hand-waved the comment. "No need to thank me, 'rina- After all, it's a pleasure to help anyone with dollying up. It has almost become some sort of side job for me." She scrutinized J from head to toe, who felt increasingly unwell at this treatment.
"So that's her…?"
"Yes."
J was certain she didn't even want to know the implications of what had been discussed between the other two women about her identity.
"I beg your pardon, but may I inquire where you picked such a thing up?"
Well, that almost dwelled into an affront, right? J wasn't one to care though, as she wanted to get over this as soon as possible.
"A police station."
Erika paused and J cringed. Well, it wasn't entirely wrong, it was just….wrong.
„Um…okay, I guess." There was no doubt in Erika's mind that she would use the first chance to take Sabrina aside and hold a serious discussion with the psychic about more proper places to pick up young women. Or women in general, as she placed the futuristic dressed companion between thirty and forty.
Not that she was all that surprised about Sabrina having taken an interest in older women. Anyone beneath thirty simply seemed not to possess the right amount of serenity and composure to withstand the psychic's oddities.
Speaking about composure, Erika reminded herself to be polite, no matter what scoundrel she was presented with. She had a job to do here, after all, and she was the kind of woman to welcome a challenge with wide open arms.
"Nice to meet you, Miss…"There was a momentarily pause as J refused to give away her true name, and was far too lazy to come up with another alias for something that, in her eyes, shouldn't take longer than twenty minutes. At most.
Oh, she was really in for a surprise, wasn't she? Obviously, she had never went shopping with another woman, and filled up her own wardrobe by ordering from the internet.
"Please, call me Jean, if you have to call me anything." Erika blinked. Well, there were certainly things she wanted to call her, but none of them were appropriate for a public setting where children might be within earshot.
And still, Sabrina was blissfully unaware of what was going on next to her.
Erika politely cleared her throat. "Nice to meet you, Miss Jean. I hope you had a pleasant day so far." By now, J, wouldn't have been surprised if Erika started curtseying in front of her, and truly, Erika had been momentarily wondering if that might have been the right response. In the end, she decided against it, as she had a clear codex of which people deserved her respect, and which didn't.
It was a lucky coincidence that Erika was not aware yet that she would soon be dressing up a well-known criminal.
"As you may have been told", no, she hadn't been told anything at all, she had been abducted from her ship, for Arceus' sake, but not that all of that mattered much to the Celadon gym leader, " I will help you regarding the regalements of the dress code of the league."
J would have snorted if she had cared. The same league that had left her untouched for years had a dress code that needed professional counseling. Figures.
"The annual gym leader's winter ball is a prestigious event to celebrate the union of our land and leadership. It is an honorable duty to accompany a gym leader to such an occasion." J almost snorted. Of course. That surely explained why her date had to resort to getting her out of prison. "But I'm sure Sabrina has told you as much already."
She hadn't. But J couldn't care less.
Erika continued. "I was informed by Sabrina that you may not be in the possession of a suitable dress for this incoming event, so she requested for my assistance in fitting you up." She glanced to the side. "And herself, of course."
There might have been the slightest hint of an exasperated eye roll at this observation, but it was gone as soon as J had detected it, and before she knew, she wasn't even sure anymore if she had seen right.
Erika smacked her lips. "Are we ready, my ladies?" Nonchalant murmur and shrugging were the only hints of an answer she got. Unfazed, Erika led the two other women into the shopping centre. It was a most unusual sight for the citizens of Celadon. They had an odd sense of pride in their tradition-conscious gym leader and weren't fazed anymore by her wearing a precious kimono in public. Still, there was something unsettling about the two women that followed her, one even known in her neighboring city, the other oddly familiar, though no one could really place the finger on where they had seen that face before…
They stopped in front of what J easily recognized as one of the more upper-class brand's shops, when Erika turned around and seemingly measured her size simply by looking at her. J crossed her arms in front of her, feeling strangely naked at this evaluation.
"Okay, you've got the broad shoulders, small waist, small hips…not as much bosom as Sabrina", due to their equally expressionless faces, it was unclear who felt more embarrassed by this assessment. "And short legs, my…" J had to suppress the urge to gnarl. Well, she wasn't exactly the born super model, was she? Not that this was much of her concern, her legs were meant to carry her out of a dangerous situation fast, not to teeter over a catwalk! "Let's see what we can work with here…"
About three hours and uncounted rounds of trying ons later, J finally had a rational, logical argument for buying her assortment of clothes online: It simply was less time-consuming. And if something didn't fit, you just had to re-package it and send it back instead of neatly folding it and finding the right coat-hanger.
The only advantage was that, in case you felt particularly depressed, you could try hanging yourself on said coat-hanger.
She supposed that it was also a matter of their new-accounted leader, Erika, being the most clothing-obsessed perfectionist she had ever met.
Then again, she could count the times she had spent considerable time with another woman not of her blood on one hand, so the pool of comparable individuals was very small.
Her observation that this ordeal took longer than expected had some foundation, though, as she noticed that her hostess had started showing minimal signs of desperation and annoyance as well. It might also be rooted in the fact that she and Erika had distinctly different notions of how the perfect dress shall look like.
"No." It was such a simple statement, and still, Erika continued to pluck at the string tie holders of the dress, cheekily trying to force the dress to stay down. For obvious reasons. For maximum cleavage.
J snickered behind the back of the two women. That might be the next slogan of a prominent fashion brand if not for its crudeness.
"Oh, come on. It looks good on you." Erika nodded to herself and if weren't below her standards to show any physical sign of agreement, J would have nodded. For someone who, that much she had had come to realize, didn't wear anything below a certain level of both comfort and regality, Sabrina looked particularly stunning in a well-fitted low-cut dress.
Not that J saw much of her front side, or had particularly tried to get a peek at it, no. But what she saw of her backside was enough to validate that observation, certainly.
"No. I'm not wearing something showing that much skin to a winter's ball." J had to admit that it took something of a keen mind to connect the level of nudeness to the date of the ball, but that didn't make the point Sabrina tried to make any more reasonable. Erika, obviously, agreed. "It's even your color!"
J raised an eyebrow. Whenever one was implied to have a favorite, fitting color, one expected things like purple, red, brown or, for all one cared salmon pink. To be known to favor black, though, implied one of the two things: Either one was in mourning, or they were a close-minded fetishist of the Goth scene. Neither were things she could really associate with the Saffron gm leader, though she supposed with her lack of emotions it would go unnoticed by her if she had recently suffered a loss in her family.
"Excuse me, as I have no idea about fashion…" That was an understatement, but J didn't think it would be that much of a necessary input to state as much. "But I have been informed that we are going to visit a ball, not a funeral."
There was a momentary pause as both gym leaders registered her input, and again, J wasn't sure if her eyes were belying her or not, but she could swear she saw the ghost of a snicker flicker across Sabrina's face.
Erika, on the other side, seemed to be positively embarrassed. "This is not a black dress!" She exclaimed, fluttered. "It's onyx-colored!"
J felt her eyebrow rise almost on its own volition again. That made exactly how much of a difference?
Erika made a pitiful obvious attempt at changing the topic, and almost instantly failed at that again, a natural reaction of someone whose main passion had just been questioned. "Now to you, Jean! Let's see, lighter hair, grey-ish blue, blue eyes, fair skin….let's go with something bright, but not too bright, something lightly colored, maybe something similar, geyish", that most certainly had not been a slip of the tongue, of course not",…maybe with a pattern, something like marble, or close to that." And with that, she rushed off into the depths of the hallstands, to be forever, or at least for a few hours, lost to the attires.
Sabrina quietly sneaked next to J, crossing her arms. Her discomfort at being placed in her revealing dress visibly for once. She was seeking a kind of comfort in the presence of someone who had been equally unwillingly placed in this situation, and who had yet to get the full brunt of Erika's design ideas.
J quietly smacked her tongue against her gum. "It doesn't look that bad on you…" She offered, in the absence of any other applicable topic.
There was a long pause in which J wondered if she had crossed the line, or if her comment- which had been the most honest attempt of a compliment she had done in pretty much all of her life, had been misunderstood.
Only to wonder since when she had started to care for another person's feeling, and scolded herself for becoming so liberal in the span of a few hours. It must have been the strain put on her face for staging full alertness for so long.
„You think so?"
Well, she wouldn't have uttered such a sentence if she had been trying to lie to her, now, would she?
"Yes."
Another silent pause, in which Sabrina seemed to nod in slow-motion, or otherwise tried to fight off the urge to nod off.
Before they had any time to strike off a conversation, Erika already hurried back to them, her arms packed full with coat hangers and dragging several dresses behind her in a brilliant display of how much she cared about clothes in the end. J felt herself taking in a deep breath and starting to shift from one food to the other, clearly in anticipation of the change interlude that was becoming her highlight of the day.
Around two hours, uncounted liters of sweat and several delightful giggles by Erika later, J had finally found something that preserved her dignity and fit the occasion as well. Although she couldn't help but feel like a Donphan pressed into a tube of synthetic fabric, and probably moved just like one as well. Sturdy hiking boots didn't prepare your feet for tight-fitting slippers with heels, even if said heels were so whimsically small that Erika even seemed offended to call them by such a name.
The dress itself was pretty plain, a most basic of cuts, much higher than Sabrina's. Mainly because J didn't have as much as Sabrina to leave an impression, something that Erika didn't say out loud, but certainly thought, a fact which was obvious even if you weren't in the possession of the mind reading ability.
To make up for that, it was slit up quite high, something that J for once preferred. It would make it so much easier to ram her heel into another person's groin if it became necessary.
Erika dusted her hands off. Yet, if J had thought that the torture was over, she was in for an awful surprise. "Now, let's get onto the accessories." She paused for a moment as both Sabrina and J blinked, and waited until the wheels behind their eyes had started turning. "Well, I cannot send you out, looking so plainly! What kind of friend would I be, then?" One who prioritized her friends' feelings over the stupid codex made by money-hungry designers and fashion brands. "You need something to cover your neck, 'rina, otherwise, you look like a discolored Fearow! And Jean, I have the perfect plan for your outfit, just you'll wait and see!"
Wait and see and kill, it was more likely by now. J rolled her eyes and supposed that there was something to the cliché of men only grudgingly accompanying their significant others to such a shopping tour, and succumbing to exhaustion soon afterwards. You just couldn't help but feel your brain cells slowly drowning in bleach liquor.
Erika rushed off and was back in just a blink of an eye, carrying something that look like a baton, a bigger sweatband and something that was unmistakably a yet-black feather boa.
"Ta~da!" J shifted quickly to the side.
"Your turn", she said, nodding to the feather bow, marked by Sabrina's color and therefore, luckily, off her territory.
"No so fast, Jean!" Erika grinned, not knowing that usually, she would end up calcified for such a false threat. "This is for you!" And she handed her the stick and the sweatband, much to the discomfort of J.
"Do you smoke?"
"No?" J answered questioningly. She had never been one for smoking, despite the fact that it seemed to be a trademark of villainous people to show at least one sign of voluntary body demolition, whether it was substance abuse or plain masochism. She wasn't in for either (though by now, the latter could be debatable), as it hindered her order situation. No client would willingly pay a misshapen, shabby supplier.
Not to mention that it greatly affected one's endurance.
"Aw, that's too sad! I got you this cigarette holder, it fits the theme of your dress perfectly!" J, tired out by over five hours of mental and physical strain now, only managed to blink in confusion. Erika shrugged again, nonchalantly. "Well, I went with a roaring twenties theme for you two, I think that will work out greatly, especially if I get to work on your hair, ladies." By now, she looked like a lurking snake, ready to pump her deadly venom into the veins of her unsuspecting prey any moment.
That didn't put J's mind at ease, anyway.
Erika, on the other hand, went on. "I was thinking about getting you some small hat, or something, but I think a headband will work better on you. Nothing with flowers, though, or with gems, we don't want you to look like a hippie having fallen out of time, now, do we?" No, if one didn't want to wake up hanging in a tree the next morning, one didn't want J to look like anything even remotely resembling a hippie. The universe could only take so much confusion before it decided to fold in itself. "So something just with a plain fabric, no big peculiarities."
Erika turned to Sabrina. "You, on the other hand…" The grass type gym leader closed her eyes. "We've got full attention on your bosom, now we need to take any of that attention away from your neck, right? So you've got the feather boa. Coal-colored, fits the onyx of your dress just perfectly."
It wouldn't have killed her, now would it, to just plainly admit that both dress and accessory were black as the night, but that seemed to be considered an affront.
A deep sigh from Erika, either out of sheer felicity that her job here was nearly done, or out of exhaustion about what was still to come. One couldn't be sure in her case, anyway.
"Now that's out of the way…time to get you two your masks!"
Plain silence, followed by the nearly synchronous blinking of two mildly bewildered women, followed again by the polite coughing of Erika, who had been expecting such a reaction. Which didn't reduce her exasperation in any way.
"You did read through the invitation, right? It does say there that the league wants to hold a masked ball this year."
"Yes." Sabrina had just the right amount of sass to formulate her answer in a way that fit Erika's question, yet didn't even carry along the notion of how she had actually forgotten to read the invitation to the end after panic of not having a suitable partner set on.
"Well, then, then things are clear! I'll be back right away, girls, just you wait! I'll make you the fanciest couple to have ever grazed the league with its presence!" Now we're talking about self-imposed challenges that might exceed one's limits.
J felt an involuntary twitch of her eyebrow as she glanced in the direction the dresser lady had went off to. It was a miracle she hadn't called in her henchmen yet in order to nuke the shopping center away from existence, but then again, resources were scarce, and she wasn't sure if it would be worthwhile to spend one of her precious bombs when a simple automatic rifle might do the job as well.
A silent, calm voice called her to reason, though. "Don't you just kill her yet." She looked to her side. Sabrina was staring ahead, just like her, with that same, unemotional mask drawn over her face again. "We still need her skills as a hairdresser." She turned her head to the side, and J wasn't sure if she wasn't imagining that small snicker. "Besides, it is my privilege to extinguish her, as she is still my colleague."
And with that, they shared something that could have almost been called a smile if not for its highly morbid nature.
"I'm back!" And the moment was swiftly ruined by Erika turning up right just when the two involuntary dance partners had found something they could share, even if it was just the mutual hate of a nearly uninvolved aide.
Erika, for her part, didn't seem to notice what had just conspired, as there was the chance she would have taken her heels and flee in case she had. Instead, she held up two simple, but still fashionable masks. One was bigger, covering not only the area around the eyes but also part of the forehead and cheeks, and had long, fluffy black feathers attached. The other was much smaller, grey in color and only had a velvety texture to it as adornment.
Erika giggled delightfully. "See, they're even in partner look! You should take the black one, Jean, and you take the grey one." All in all, she seemed positively pleased with her job.
Now it was time to hurry away, while also keeping your dignity and not appearing as if you frantically wanted to flew away from the shopping centre as fast as possible.
"I express my deepest gratitude for your help, Erika, and am thankful for your assistance." J just quietly nodded to that, hoping that this gesture carried her agreement.
Erika waved aside. "Oh, it was nothing. I mean, I even got some pleasure out of it. It was fun." There was a mysterious glistening in her eyes that made J uncomfortable. It seemed too easy to be let off the hook this easily, now, did it?
"I'll see it to that we'll meet before the ball again. Should I book a place or will we meet at yours?" J blinked. She seemed to be just a bit out of the loop to understand what exactly was being discussed right now, and she didn't feel comfortable by it one bit.
Erika shrugged. "Either sounds good. Just give me a call before, 'rina, right? So I can prepare." She winked and bowed goodbye before her unfortunate fashion victims. And as if on cue, J felt herself wisped away not a second later by the eerie powers of teleport again.
She only had a fraction of a second to wonder if there was even the question of who would pay for the wardrobe, or if teleporting away while wearing store interior was not considering thievery on this hemisphere, before she reappeared in the control room of her ship, her startled henchmen no less confused than she was.
She blinked, registered the nature of her surroundings and swiftly let herself fall onto her chair, while also wondering if she should attempt some way of communication in order to get the clothes she had worn before back. Her boots and an trench coat were not her most precious possession, as she in general found the motion that material possessions as precarious quite funny and silly, but it would be a shame to just leave them behind, especially when there was the not so small chance that they would give away her identity for better or worse.
She supposed, though, that with the psychic, chances were high that she would get her garments back sooner or later by the means of teleportation.
She propped her chin in her palm, and glared at the henchmen that were staring at her as if she had just grown a second head.
Or, alternatively, shown up in a dinner robe and feather-adorned mask. Either seemed to have about the same probability, so she couldn't fully blame them for their bewilderment.
"What?" She hissed either way, as a matter of principle or because it was a good way of relieving stress that didn't involve physical exercise on her part, and physical punishment on theirs.
Hiccupping, they went back to their jobs and she was back in her own mind, for the first time in hours able to even start to process the events that had just taken place.
Deciding that such an analysis would be beyond her imagination any way, she settled on the same strategy that had carried her through a full week of blissful innocence before: Taking a blind eye to it, and pretending that she was not going to rob a coordinators' convention in a gown.
It was a nice strategy, after all. And when a well-know spectacle repeated itself the following week, and an overstrained henchman came in, arms behind his head, and almost managed to tell her that they had a guest again before it became apparent that she was to be teleported again, her strategy was so immensely successful that J was not at all prepared.
This time, though, the unannounced gym leader commanded her to get her dress and accessories and shoes and prepare herself as much as she could for the incoming winter's ball.
Now, there were times in which one ordered J to do something, and lived. They were sparse, but they were there. And being a close to omnipotent psychic who managed to totally petrify J by the unheralded announcement that the ball was going to take place this very night was one of these occasions. In fact, J was so very alarmed that her façade broke for a moment, with her lurking henchmen as witnesses. She didn't even have enough time to remind herself that she would need to beat them up with a metal pipe later, as she had to hurriedly slip into the dress while at the same time not forgetting to put on her unmentionables.
Speaking of…
"No, you don't have to come in and help me!" She nearly shrieked in a very uncharacteristically moment, but, let's be honest here, who had seriously expected J to ever attend a league's ball? Certainly not she herself, as she still felt somewhat out of this world, even as she cautiously adjusted her headband. By now, she wasn't sure if the worst outcome would be to be recognized, or to sprain her ankles while trying to manage these heels.
When she walked out of her room, she had to resist the urge to tuck at her dress, and had to resist the urge to strangle someone even more. She supposed she could spare some henchmen, but as the psychic hushed her along, there didn't seem to be any time for such a stress relief.
A strangle, tickling feeling overcame her, one that she would probably never get used to, although she had to admit that Teleport in general was a convenient ability. If it didn't come with the weird tendency to ignore all kinds of commonalities and all rules of the space-time continuum.
"Wonderful, you're on time!"
J had to suppress a groan. It had been a week, a quiet, peacefully, generous week, since she had heard this voice the last time and certainly, the perception hadn't changed one bit. Whenever this woman, Erika of Celadon, was close, it likely meant that another humiliation conga was about to take place with her as the special lead.
And she, the naïve, insane levels of naivety in this case, had hoped that once she had her dress, it was over. Of course not. She should have known better. A woman with the right wardrobe was only half-ready. Her outfit was only completed by the right hairdo, and makeup, both things of which Erika was a self-confessed expert in. And both of which things that J abhorred for the simple fact that they took up precious time she didn't have. She couldn't wait for her nail polish to dry while her client's Pokemon got away!
Now that she looked at the tablecloth spread out before Erika, she supposed slow drying nail polish would be the last of her worries, ever. Heck, she couldn't even identify half of the instruments that were presented to her! Was that woman really going to be her make-up artist of the day or actually going to remove her appendix with a feather brush?
"No worries, Jean, you're in good hands. We'll first do something about your hair- and yours, Sabrina, don't you think you can get away this time!-" why was J suddenly so intrigued about that apparent 'first time' and why was she so very sure that this was a constant source of embarrassment for her partner in almost crime from the sudden stunned look on her face? ", and then I'll do your make up no time, sweety, I've got all the essentials here with me anyways. And then we'll see to that you arrive in time at the league HQ, right?" Erika winked again. J wasn't sure how to take this, except that she was very sure that the grass type leader did not actually know how to teleport and, given that they were in Celadon in a back room of the gym, Erika was unlikely to carry them to Indigo on her back.
In all the countless hours J had spent with Erika, she hadn't as much inquired serious information from the elegant lady, either out of lack of interest or because she feared the answer in one way or another. For once, though, she was actually curious as to what the gym leader was gonna do about her hair. She herself had never much cared about it, had kept it short in order to keep herself from the humiliation that was an enemy actually pulling on her hair, and had therefore not the slightest idea of how one was actually supposed to get a decent hairstyle out of that bush of hers.
We're talking about the top bush, for those whose minds wandered of in-between.
Not that the other option didn't intrigue J, but not in the same fashion, and certainly not in a public setting.
"Oh, that's absolutely no problem", Erika explained while combing through J's wet hair. "You see, women during the twenties finally dared to cut their hair short and therefore, there are many variations of short hair cuts that work well nowadays as well." Erika smacked her tongue against her cheek. "In fact, what I'm going to do to you today is known as the finger wave. It's well-known, and should look fabulous on you. Now, it's not the easiest haircut- in fact, the variation I'll be doing will be a bit more difficult than what can be achieved with curling irons, but it won't last as long, and I got the impression you're not in for having to deal with your hair all week long." Well, now that was an observation J could certainly agree with, even if she didn't have the slightest idea of what Erika was talking about, otherwise.
"Regarding you…" Erika looking up, glancing in Sabrina's direction, who almost flinched. "You know."
The psychic glanced aside, and, if J wasn't so sure it was a combination of her imagination and of having sharp shampoo in her eyes, she might have seen the psychic honestly gulping with fear.
Whatever it was that the psychic was afraid of, J found that she couldn't share her reservations. While she was very sure she would never be able to reproduce the hairstyle Erika had done on her own, unless she kidnapped a hair dresser, she nevertheless found it quite refreshing.
Also, it lowered the chances of being recognized significantly as well.
Erika nodded to herself, obviously satisfied by her achievement as well. "That's going to leave an impression on the other gym leaders, for sure." J noticed that the psychic seemed to tense at these words as well, but then again, it might have just been the anticipation of what was yet to come. A question which would soon be answered.
"Now, to you…" Sabrina's anxious shifting in the chair almost became clinical.
"As agreed, eh?"
If one didn't know he had to look for a nod, he might as well have mistaken Sabrina to be totally free of reaction.
Erika rolled her eyes, snipping the air with her scissors for emphasize. "We agreed on this, 'rina, didn't we?"
Whatever it was that they had agreed on, it was most certainly not Sabrina stomping out of the room and fleeing the scene.
"For Arceus' sake!" Erika uttered a sigh that might have been an exasperated groan. "I had a feeling that she would pull some stunt…but for her to actually go through with it. "
J raised an eyebrow.
„I am afraid I do not fully get what you're talking about." And now she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the full story.
Erika shrugged helplessly. "Well, she got this thing with her hair going on, she doesn't want it to be cut, like, ever. When she came for me for help, I said I would do it, provided that she would actually let me cut her hair. Which is like a Holy Grail for me. Been trying to get her under my fingers for years and now I thought, I got her." Erika sighed.
J's eyebrow stayed were it had been before, that is, in raised position. Given that she herself couldn't give a damn about her hair cut, it seemed to be a bit, ah, of an exaggeration to try to achieve a lifelong dream in the form of cutting a fellow colleague's hair, but here she was.
And the league had the guts to call her the anarchic one.
Erika took a deep breath. "Thankfully, I anticipated this, so I came prepared."
J wondered if it was possible to have a cramp in one's forehead. She wasn't sure what to expect now. A lasso, a complicated trap, calling the national Rangers brigade or right away awaited an exorcist?
"Come with me, Haunter, we've got to get your mistress back in here."
J had wanted, honestly wanted to question Erika if she was seriously considering the help of a ghost/poison type dual type Pokemon, one that was, as far as she knew, not even in her possession, against a psychic who hadn't broken a sweat dealing with her Drapion, who had the advantage of being partly dark type.
Yet J had not been informed about Haunter's peculiar nature, and its tendency to act out overly stagily sketches.
Erika told J calmly to wait while she would go out with Haunter and try to rouse up the rogue gym leader. As it became obvious, Sabrina wasn't let go so far, as a few minutes later, the hairdresser and the ghost came back, in tow. Now J was fairly sure it was the psychic who tip-toed behind the ghost, but had she just been asked to judge by behavior alone, she would have said that Erika had went with the less plausible solution and hired a look-a-like.
For the psychic was screeching and fidgeting, held in control against her will, and obviously protesting these facts as loud as possible. J was morbidly curious as to how the woman and the ghost managed to keep the powerful psychic under control, but didn't dare to ask in case the same method could one day be used against her.
Erika huffed and ordered for Haunter to let the psychic go once she was positioned above the chair J had just vacated. There had to be some element of parapsychological control the ghost executed over the psychic, but again, J was careful not to let her curiosity overtake her façade.
No sooner than control over her limbs was given back to her, Sabrina used her sole chance to try to make a bolt for it again, only to be stopped in her track by Erika tripping her.
J wondered how much of her reputation would come out of this deal unharmed. At least she had a hard time stopping herself from snickering in response.
Erika rolled her eyes. "Sabrina, we did talk about this, didn't we?!"
There was no answer, except for a whining grumble that sounded both as if the impaired woman wanted to wail and murder at the same time. If she weren't alive by all means, she could have been impersonating a banshee.
Erika sighed. "Well, I guess I could modify it a bit so that you don't lose all of your mane. What do you say?"
In response, Sabrina grabbed her tuft from behind and signed a precise measurement to be cut off. Of about half an inch.
J snickered.
"Oh come one! A bit more!"
One inch.
"You gotta work with me here, otherwise, I refuse to do any more services for you. Ever."
Grudgingly, her fingers slipped up a bit more, indicating about…well, if one's generous, about two inches.
"Are we seriously going to bargain for every inch now?!"
A nod.
"Oh for the love of…" Erika nodded to Haunter, just as Sabrina's eyes widened and it seemed as if she would unleash a tornado in the middle of the room.
J, who was certain that no matter whose will triumphed the others, she was about to witness a blood bath either way, turned away for she didn't want to see two women scratching each other's eyes out with a scissor and bare finger nails respectively.
Around half an hour later, the deed was done, and somehow, the only arguably dead individual in the room was still the blithe ghost Pokemon.
Though if one didn't know better, he would guess that someone had just run over Sabrina's pet cat. It was a truly unpleasing view, for she did her darnest to look as unemotional as always, but everything in her composure betrayed her.
Now, J's knowledge about haircuts was, as stated, very limited and it was rare for her to know about a style before it was written in big fat letters before her eyes, but she was caught up on fashion enough to know that what Erika had whipped up was a very simple bob cut, albeit with the hair left on about shoulder-length. Or, in Sabrina's words, close enough to balding that it was embarrassing for her walk out of the room without a full-face wimple.
Erika rolled her eyes. She had done this so many times in the past hour that J was honestly worried for her sight even if she didn't believe in the old folktale of it causing strabismus. "Heh, see the positives…no one will recognize you now, neither in Saffron nor between the other gym leaders." Erika was still not fully done with her beefing up, as she was still applying make-up to the slightly grumpy psychic. "They'll all wonder who this beautiful young lady is, who floats into the room accompanied by her mature, noble ladyfriend."
J was sure it was neither fair nor polite to be snickering right now, but if there was any scenario she would certainly write off from happening, it was this one. While 'floating' in a more basic sense was certainly within her escort's abilities, it was unlikely to be within the spectrum of activities she would participate in this night.
Nor was she her ladyfriend, if that hadn't been all that obvious but it was better to leave Erika under the delusion that they were more than a mere chance acquaintanceship.
"Okay, et viola! Finished!"
J craned her neck. Not that she was honestly interested in what Erika had done, she was simply curious if she still had all of her ten fingers, or if Sabrina had finally started weeping in the middle of being made up.
To her surprise, and slight disappointment, she had to admit, the psychic seemed to have abandoned all drama for the time being, and simply stood up with the faintest discomfort. She glanced at the clock ticking away, before politely asking Erika if she wanted to take the opportunity to be teleported to the league HQ together with them right away. J had to admit that Erika taking her up on that offer was gutsy. If J had been in her shoes, she would have telefragged Erika 'on accident'. Or left her some fifty miles north of the headquarters in the middle of nowhere in the mountains. That, she was sure, was not the appropriate retribution for someone cutting off your hair, but usually, cutting your hair didn't involve mourning each strand individually.
And usually, as J already had the gnawing feeling, was out partying anyway.
End Part Two
