Previously, in Professor Tales- Puns. Puns everywhere. That awkward moment where a Vespiquen loves you. And also, the rather important reveal of Mega Evolution. That was a thing. Everyone gets Mega's except Juniper. Sorry Juniper.

Birch was rather looking forward to meeting this Lysandre fellow. Apparently the man owned a café in town, although they were going there for an evening meal that Sycamore insisted they dress up nicely for. This was unexpected, as all their formal clothes were back at the hotel, or so they had thought.
"Nonsense. I had people bring them to my house! You shall all be staying with me. Much better way of doing things. Oh, monsieur Rowan, no need to protest! I have plenty of space. It is no trouble at all."

Sycamore, as was customary, took no time at all to get dressed, and so consequently delighted in berating the rest of the group for taking so long getting dressed- Birch was irritated by this, because he felt he personally couldn't be blamed by the fact that he didn't own a smart suit. After all, what field research scientist needed a suit?! It was with great drama that Sycamore had insisted he wear one of his own, and consequently Birch realistically felt the size difference between he and the much slimmer, much taller Kalosian professor.

However, even though he looked ridiculous, Birch was still looking forward to good food and an interesting person to talk to. Sycamore had enthused, when they were all piling into the taxi once more- this time, it was a larger one, which relieved Birch to no end- about Lysandre's works and his character.
"So poetic! And elegant, yes, elegant! Every piece of work, an art form!"

They listened with interest as the taxi passed slowly through the streets that were still crowded with shoppers and tourists. Well, most of them did. Rowan was too concerned about the fact he was wearing one of the outfits Sycamore had picked out for him, which was understandable in a way.
Birch shuffled uncomfortably as Sycamore enthused excitedly about the invention of the Holocaster. Just because the taxi was slightly bigger didn't mean he was happy about the fact that every time Sycamore moved, he almost got smacked in the face by a flailing hand or caught a waft of that expensive cologne that Rowan seemed to be wearing too (or possibly it was all Sycamores. Birch just didn't know).

The taxi stopped at some lights, and Birch looked out the window absentmindedly before blinking.
"Hey, Rowan, isn't that Fantina? From Sinnoh?" he asked, pointing to a majestic figure of a woman walking on the pavement besides them. Rowan looked around at Birch's call, before nodding.
Birch jammed his finger on the window button, rolling it down, and just about to call Fantina over when Sycamore leaned in front of him, shouting in Kalosian.

Fantina looked over, her face breaking into a smile as the two exchanged words. Apparently whatever Sycamore said made her laugh, reaching into her handbag to retrieve a notepad to write something down, because they drove away with her giggling and him sitting back looking content in his own charm. Birch was positive, one hundred percent, that the entire conversation wouldn't come back to haunt them sooner or later. Absolutely not. No chance.

Rowan looked outraged that he hadn't got a chance to say hello, but quickly swallowed that anger, a habit he seemed to have got into now. In fact, Birch was surprised that he hadn't gotten into the habit sooner.
It would have saved a lot of time and awkward situations.

The cab slowed to a stop as they got caught in deadlocked traffic, Sycamore swearing in Kalosian, apparently aware of the time passing. The cab driver looked back, muttering something as well, to which Sycamore looked offended. The group of non-speakers exchanged glances, and Birch could see Juniper using her small amounts of Kalosian knowledge to try and follow the sharp retort Sycamore gave, before raising an eyebrow and shaking her head.
The cab fell into silence again, as the driver rolled up the partition between them and resolutely blared his horn at a cyclist who wobbled and rode into a lamppost. Elm looked worriedly at him as they drove past, before Juniper shook her head at him, patting him on the knee supportively.

Birch gave a sigh, feeling uncomfortable in the close space, with the heavy cologne perforating the air still.
One can only take so much manly musk.

The car suddenly came to a stop, with the driver rolling down the window and thrusting his hand through, a demand for money that had them all scrabbling for their purses to try and split the cost before Sycamore held up his hands and put one singular piece of paper into the man's hands. The driver looked at it, raising an eyebrow- a singular note, signed with Sycamore signature.
The other professors suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Augustine, you can't pay for a taxi with an auto-"

"I have no idea what you mean, mademoiselle." Sycamore replied smoothly, clambering over Elm to get out of the car, accidentally planting a knee into the poor man's groin and an elbow into Oak's face, not mentioning the vision of very tight trousers suddenly thrust into everyone's view.
Birch looked carefully at the note. Of course Sycamore had paid with a fifty dollar note that had his autograph on. Of course.

The rest of the professors got out as well- Elm falling out as he tried and failed to walk with an assaulted crotch, and Oak rubbing his cheek forlornly.
Birch took a good look at where they were- down an alleyway of some kind, looking at a behemoth sized crimson coloured café. Through the slightly tinted glass, he could see some people in red outfits moving around. He frowned, shrugging a little as Sycamore rubbed his hands in obvious glee and headed inside, expecting the rest of them to follow him.

They did so, pushing through the doors. Inside, it was even redder than they had expected. The floor was red. The tiles were red. The bar was red. The ceiling was red.
Birch couldn't help but be thankful he wasn't colour-blind. This place would have been a nightmare. You wouldn't have been able to see if someone had let a Slugma loose.
That sounded like a joke, but in Birch's experience, you should always be able to tell if a Slugma was loose.

"Salut, Augustine! These would be your colleagues, yes?"

Birch turned to see a man with the most outrageous hair he'd ever seen. It was…Bright red. Not the red of the café, which was really more of a scarlet, but bright red, veering on orange. He glanced at the other Professors, who were all staring in various shades of amazement. Juniper didn't really seem bothered- in Unova, new styles of hair seemed to be popping up everywhere. As opposed to Oak, who looked positively shocked.
It wasn't just his hair that was intimidating- his black suit was so finely tailored that Birch suddenly felt like he didn't belong in Sycamore's mismatched suit. It was finished with an orange trim, furred neck and a cravat. Of predictably bright red orange- blood orange?- colour.

Sycamore walked up to the man- who was at least a couple of inches taller than the already tall Professor Sycamore, and towered over the rest of the group.
"Oui! Friends, this is Lysandre. Lysandre, this is…" He pointed at each of them in order, reciting their names astoundingly quickly. "Rowan, Birch, Oak, Elm, Juniper…"

"Pleased to meet you." Rowan began. "Sycamore has told us a lot about you. Your work on the Holocaster is…" He paused, as if trying to find the right word that he could say sincerely and politely. His face went through all manner of combinations of varying decisions, before settling on "Interesting. Yes, interesting."

"Thank you." Lysandre nodded, his Kalosian accent not nearly as strong as Sycamore's, who hovered between the two groups now, apparently unsure of what to do. Birch looked around the café- although now with the dinner crowd coming out and about it was beginning to look more like a restaurant- the waiting staff seemed to be a mixture of what he would hesitantly call 'normal people' and a bunch of others dressed in bright red suits, the colour of Lysandre's hair, along with huge red glasses and what looked like dyed hair. Of course, dyed the colour of their leader's hair.

It all rather unsettlingly reminded Birch of Team Magma and Team Aqua. Joint uniforms always did have that effect on him, something that rendered Pokémon centres into a no-go zone. Nurse Joy… There had to be something sinister going on with that.

Birch shuffled closer to Rowan, feeling suddenly very concerned about where they were. The man gave a sigh, rolling his eyes at the man as they all followed Lysandre through to a backroom that seemed to be for Lysandre's private use. There was an enormous painting of a Pyroar on the wall, mid leap, painted to look like wherever you stood, the Pyroar was eyeing you up.
Birch just knew that Elm would get more and more bothered about the painting as the evening went on.

"Please, sit. We will be having spiced Taurus steaks, chosen from only the finest free range herds and flavoured with Cheri berries from my own garden." Lysandre was saying. "Kalosian food is the best in the world, but no doubt you've already heard this already. It is common knowledge."
He looked at Birch, nodding as Sycamore muttered something quick in Kalosian.
"Although Augustine tells me that you are vegetarian, Professor. Such a shame. The cook makes a wonderful Pidgey egg salad. I shall have him told."
Birch watched as he pulled out a small Holocaster, typed a few words into it, before putting it away, all in one astounding movement.

They made themselves comfortable around an enormous, rectangular table in the centre of the room, laid for all of them, with Lysandre at the head of the table, Rowan and Elm either of side of him- Elm unfortunately staring right at the painting- Sycamore and Juniper on either side next to them, and then Birch and Oak ending up right at the end.
While Sycamore looked a little upset about not being able to sit next to Lysandre, Birch couldn't help but notice the fact he seemed more than welcoming to let Juniper sit opposite him. This should have stopped being surprising, but really, it was hard to notice Juniper looking everywhere except opposite her when the man was leaning with his head on his hand, staring at her.

"So, Sycamore tells us you work in research, is that right?" Birch began, looking for some sort of release from the awkward silence that had taken over the room. "What sort of research do you do? We know all about the Holocaster- things like that?"

Lysandre smiled an astonishingly radiant smile- another point for the theory that all Kalosians had perfect teeth- and nodded, locking his hands together in front of him.
"He is correct- we here at Lysandre Labs create inventions to better the life and beautify the world." He explained. There was an awkward pause as the Professors- except for Sycamore, who nodded, looking somewhat moved by the response- tried to work out what he could possibly mean by beautifying the world.
"By which I mean, make the name of progress less ugly." Lysandre carried on smoothly, so relaxed that had he not been sitting in a chair, he may as well have been laying down.

"Oh, I think I understand," Juniper began. "So instead of creating inventions that would wreck the world- something polluting, for example- you work on making…Nicer things?"
She tried to smile encouragingly at him, to which Lysandre met her gaze with a stoic look of disapproval.

"A little like that. Perhaps. Let me put it this way." Lysandre replied to her, laying his hands on the table. "You can make the world more beautiful by adding beautiful things to it, yes. But you can also take ugly things away."

"Well, uh," Elm began, raising a hand. "What counts as ugly? Metaphorical ugly or physical ugly?"

Lysandre gave a sigh, leaning his elbow onto the arm of his chair.
"All kinds of ugly, Professor. All kinds."

The Professors nodded, before Oak shook his head.
"But then, what about certain Pokémon? What about Trubbish? Many people consider it ugly, but I myself feel like if you have a good gas mask, it really is quite cute."

Frustrated, Lysandre gave an exasperated sigh.
"Just, ugliness in general!" he repeated, irritated. "Things that make the world less beautiful!"

Rowan made a face, rubbing his moustache slightly.
"But what about people not blessed in genes that render you good looking?" he asked. "That sounds awfully genocidal of you."
Birch glanced at Sycamore, who was looking between the steadily reddening Lysandre and Rowan, who had picked up his glass of water and was sipping it casually. The Kalosian professor looked conflicted- torn between defending Lysandre and defending his teacher.

Like a gift to Sycamore so he wouldn't have to be torn between them, the door flew open and a girl dressed in the red uniform trotted in, stood at the side of the door, cleared her throat, and announced in the heaviest Kalosian accent Birch had ever heard that,
"Dinner IS served!"

As if on cue, a few more uniformed lackeys poured in, prompting Lysandre to sit back and calm down slightly as they put an enormous Taurus steak in front of them, Birch giving a sigh as he was presented with a small, but admittedly delicious looking salad, although the layout of the egg was a little odd.
Why a flame shape? What was the meaning behind that?

They ate in relative quiet, apparently no one tempted to talk to Lysandre about his research again, not even Sycamore, who sat with a terminal look of indecision about what he should say.
Eventually, it seemed like he decided.
"Lysandre, you've yet to show them some of the research we have done into the Mega Stones." He began with. "Have you found anything new since we last talked?"

Lysandre flicked his eyes up from staring intently at his meal.
"No luck." He muttered. "Although I have found something pertaining to the different ways they could be stored. I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss it here."
He looked at the Professors, who all became very interested in their meal, except for Rowan who narrowed his eyes and stared at Lysandre.

Sycamore didn't seem put off by that- he shrugged, going back to his meal.
"Ah, okay." He settled with, slumping a little when the smile he shot at Juniper was completely ignored in favour for the steak, which she picked at slightly, apparently not a fan of the spiced sauce. She looked enviously at Birch's meal, and he moved it away slightly.

The intrusive silence flooded the table again, broken only by the clinking of cutlery on china, before Oak spoke up, as casually as he possibly could.
"So your inventions, how do they help make the world more beautiful?"

The tension around the table suddenly rose to max as everyone surreptitiously looked at Lysandre to see his reaction. It wasn't nearly as exciting as thought.
"With the Holocaster we can speak to many, many people. Communication is beautiful, don't you agree? With many people communicating, the world is more beautiful."

Sycamore nodded, apparently as glad as everyone else that genocide wasn't brought up again. Oak nodded, glancing at Rowan who nodded, almost half-heartedly, before opening his mouth to speak.
"So what about removing ug-"
Coming to the rescue of everyone at the table, a loud, urgent beeping issued from somewhere on Lysandre's person. He held up a hand to pause Rowan, fishing around for his Holocaster and muttering some urgent, brisk Kalosian, back and forth with whoever was on the other end.

It was obviously urgent, because Sycamore seemed startled by it, especially when Lysandre stood and pushed his plate away from him.
"I apologise for cutting our dinner short, but there is an emergency I must attend to." He explained, looking at Sycamore as the Professor tilted his head questioningly. "I am sorry I cannot elaborate. Please excuse me. It was an… Experience, meeting you all."
They watched him as he left the room, all of them glancing to the confused- and was that concern?- expression on Sycamore's face.
He gave a sigh, looking down at his finished place, and Birch watched as Juniper leaned over the table to pat him on the hand, an action that probably made his night far more than the dinner.

"Have you finished your meal?" the woman from before, with the heavy accent, asked them, beginning to clear away the plates without even waiting for a reply. "Great! We'll see you all soon."
The Professors glanced at each other, thrown out of their comfort zone. It was just a good thing they'd all finished- aside from Elm, but he was too busy staring at the painting to notice- as they'd barely had time to stand up before they were being herded out of the door.

Birch couldn't help but feel suspicious- it was almost like the Café was some sort of top secret laboratory that they weren't supposed to see and the fact that Lysandre was gone made all the lackeys nervous about a load of visually nosy Pokémon Professors looking around.
Or maybe he was just being paranoid.

No, definitely paranoid, he decided as they were hustled out of the café and into a taxi to take them home to Sycamore's. No one would be able to hide a lab there. They'd have to build it underground or something.

What a ridiculous idea.


Sorry this took so long, guys. My operation didn't go ahead, I got pretty depressed about it, started Uni, got even more depressed about Uni, have had very little time, and eventually got so angry at myself for neglecting this that I sat down and just went for it. It came out pretty well, that considered.

I think it's almost been a year since I started this? Who knows.