Chapter Twenty – Dances with Dragons
Joshua
National Park hummed with the noise and activity of the Hoenn Festival, gently warming in the glad spring sunshine. It was Saturday afternoon, and the smell of the morning's rain was rising off the turf. The mountainous heights of cumulus clouds floated in the blue sky, shining bright white and threatening more showers later. The wide green spaces of the park were, to Josh's mind, a welcome break from the towers and bustle of the city. In truth, the park was surrounded by the city, west, east, and south. Route 35, coming up to meet it from the south, opened onto a spacious plaza paved in golden-brown brickwork. Countless colourful stands, stalls and tents crowded the area, except near the centre of the plaza where a wide space had been left clear.
North of the plaza was the main body of the park - one thousand acres of parkland, the landscape describing the rough shape of a Poké Ball, the wide space of Fountain Court in the centre, the Hundred Acre Wood near to the Pokéathlon Dome, Landau open-air theatre. A shallow river wound through the park, its banks lined with blossoming cheri trees and strewn with festival-goer's tents.
Josh emerged from his tent and sighed. Goldenrod City wasn't doing much to endear itself to him. National Park was greener and calmer than the city, but to his eye it was obviously a work of urban design. The River Inglebeck flowed lazily by in its tidy channel, sparkling cheerily in the sun. Ivysaur was lying flat on his stomach, quietly photosynthesising. "Keep an eye on the tent, will you, bud?" Josh said. Ivysaur just grunted in return.
Eve was sitting on the riverbank, wearing a fairly modest royal purple bikini, dangling her leg into the water. She looked round at the sound of his footsteps on the grass, and immediately gave him one of her sceptical looks.
"What?" Josh said defensively.
"A wetsuit. That's the swimwear you had mailed over?" Eve said.
"It's what I own," he said bluntly. That was half-true; the nondescript charcoal-grey wetsuit was the legacy of an abortive attempt at windsurfing. Swimming in the river was Eve's idea, of course. He followed her somewhat mournfully as she splashed happily out into the middle of the beck. The water was waist high and still rather tepid despite the warm weather; the riverbed beneath their toes was fine and sandy.
Eve stretched, and shivered pleasantly. She gave him a mischievous look and took on a faux-boxing stance. "Hey, you! Let's fight!"
"No!"
"Oh, come on, wrestle me! What's the matter, afraid of getting your ass kicked by a girl?"
"A stronger girl than me," Josh said, haughtily turning away. Eve's bikini was making him nervy and he was damned if he was going to be putting his hands on her.
"Anyway," he said, turning back around. Eve had somehow vanished.
"Eve?" he said, slowly, suspiciously.
"Yaaah!"
Eve surfaced like an angry pink gyarados, teeth bared in a snarl, hands curled into claws. Seizing him round the middle, Eve bore him into the river with an almighty splash and made a spirited attempt at drowning him. Water clanged in his ears – his roar of fury emerged as an indistinct burble. As soon as he managed to stand he tried to shove Eve underwater by her head. She slipped out from under his palm and tackled him again.
It didn't take long for them to be wrestling in earnest, splashing and giggling like children. Josh sneakily tripped Eve and sent her falling back into the river with a shriek. There was a complicated moment as Josh seized his chance and his friend – he held on with difficulty as Eve thrashed and wriggled and snarled like a petulant gyarados.
"Hey, hey!" she suddenly yelled. "That's my boob!"
Josh couldn't have let go faster if she'd burst into flames. "Sorry! Sorry Eve! I didn't realise. Sorry," he babbled, the colour already rising to his cheeks.
"Can't believe you fell for that!" Eve said gleefully, turning and tackling him – or at least, she tried to. Josh stepped smartly aside and unceremoniously shoved her hard into the water.
"Don't! Do that," he warned.
"What!" Eve said, wiping her waterlogged eyes. Then she saw his expression of mixed ire and embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry," she relented. "I won't pull that trick again. We square?"
Josh took a couple of steps towards her, arms open as if offering a hug. Eve leapt forward and smiled – until he snapped his arm round and pushed her back in.
"Now we're square."
A flygon beat its scintillating wings, drawing an appreciative gasp from its admiring crowd. The buzzing wingbeats sounded eerily like singing. It was late afternoon, and still bright but for the odd light rain shower. Josh ambled aimlessly around the plaza, exploring the festivities. The festival was a kaleidoscope of Hoenn culture – stands selling bacon-and-potato stew, pokéblock cases, leppa dragoncakes, Go-Goggles. Josh found himself gravitating towards the craft stalls. He paused to check out a display of Fallarbor glassware; painted flutes and delicate wind-bells chiming sweet and clear.
"Beautiful," he commented. "Do you do online orders?"
"I do. I have to with him around," the glazier said, jerking a thumb at the deep shade of the breeder's tent opposite. A young pyrite sableye stared at Josh disturbingly with its fool's gold eyes. Once it realised he was looking back its goblin-grin widened slightly. Come into the sunlight and grin like that.
There were a fair few breeders at the festival. Josh was sorely tempted by a thunderous grey cumulonimbus swablu, miniature lightning bolts flashing sporadically from their wings. He was just about to buy one when he caught sight of some unfamiliar Grass-types standing on a stall counter top, apparently enjoying the afternoon sun. They were about two feet tall, and humanoid, with leafy tabards and thorny heads. Instead of arms they had flexible stems, bearing a pair of large roses. Each pokémon had differently coloured roses than the others.
"What species are these? I don't recognise them," Josh asked.
"Roselia. Or Rosa toxicus, if you prefer," the breeder said, a pleasantly smelling lady in a lilac and white skirt.
"I do," Josh laughed. "Are these all separate subspecies?"
"These are all R. toxicus cultivars,"she replied. A roselia with pure white flowers blinked serenely at him. There was something vaguely familiar about them.
"That one's Fidelity. A symbol of enduring love," she continued. "Quite similar to a garden cultivar."
Josh made a neutral noise, his mind still half-full of thundering swablu. A transparently sly look crossed the breeder's naturally guileless face. "Perhaps you'd like a Royal Glory?" she suggested, gesturing to a patriotically coloured roselia with one rose a rich gold, the other a deep red.
Josh's republican heart rebelled. "I already have a Grass-type on my team," he said doubtfully. He double-took briefly; the smallest roselia was singing tunelessly and happily waving its stems at him. Its left rose was a brilliant fuchsia shading through to white at the tips of the petals – the right, white shading to fuchsia.
"This little one's my Double Blush. Although I can't help but think of this cultivar as Raspberry Ripple," she giggled. "You can pick her up if you like."
Josh gently lifted the roselia, which giggled delightedly in turn. The colour of her flowers really was reminiscent of ice cream. A light, enervating scent rose off the petals, like crushed kingsfoil.
"All my roselia germinate knowing Bullet Seed," the breeder continued. "Their evolved form, Rosa masquerada, have very high Special Attack and can use the Weather Ball attack."
The little roselia gave Josh such an adorably innocent smile that he melted rather like ice cream himself. "Aw," he said helplessly. "Sold. Sold, damn you."
Josh wandered through the festival towards the sounds of battle, clutching his new roselia seed. The dark brown seed was packed into a tough egg-shaped canister about nine inches tall, half-filled with compost, the top half of the canister clear perspex to let sunlight in. There was a brief flash from up ahead, where a small crowd was gathered around an elevated battlefield.
Eve was standing at the near side, battling with her meowth. Opposite her was one of the Festival trainers in a green apron decorated with a rayquaza silhouette. His pokémon was a bipedal lizard with a yellow crested head, a tightly coiled tail, and a wide frog-like mouth.
"Go Kecleon!" he shouted. "Water Pulse!"
Kecleon dropped to all fours, opened its huge mouth wide and fired a concave disc of water. Meowth watched it perform the attack intently, leaping high over the Water Pulse at the last moment.
"Slash!" Eve commanded, snapping her fingers. Meowth executed a textbook plunging Slash, unfortunately slashing at thin air as Kecleon rapidly faded into the foreground and slipped aside. For some reason its jagged red belly stripe remained visible, zigzagging unpredictably towards Meowth.
"Damnit, not again!" Eve growled. "Double Team!"
What would have been the real Meowth immediately disappeared, apparently cut apart by Kecleon's claws. There was a burst of appreciative comments from the spectators. Josh could see why – even he was having trouble discerning the real Meowth among the copies. A frenetic duel ensued, almost too fast to follow, Meowth trying to Slash at the chameleonic Kecleon while it swiped wildly at the Double Team. Another Water Pulse swept by; Meowth's retaliatory Slash missed entirely.
Eve was beginning to lose her temper. "Flash it out!" she ordered.
Meowth's charm blazed – Kecleon let out a high-pitched scream and reappeared, its scales rippling a combative red. Meowth was on it in an instant. Watching that maniac assault reminded Josh of why he never liked that furry thug. Out of battle he acted like a rogue with a heart of gold, all déshabille and easy grace, attempting to charm every girl he came across. Give him an opponent, and he became a callous little savage.
Cats, as bad as foxes, he thought sourly. Both trainers recalled their pokémon.
"Alright, let's see what you think of this one," Green Apron laughed. "Grovyle, I choose you!"
Grovyle was a relatively small, lithe reptile with a spray of long oval leaves sprouting from each wrist and a permanent smirk. Eve scanned it with her Pokédex. "Grovyle, the Wood Gecko Pokémon. It's strongly developed -"
Eve abruptly cut it off, yanking another Poké Ball from her gilet and flourishing it with her toss-expand-catch motion. "It's time. Pineco, you have the honour!"
Hmm. This'll be interesting. Pineco was the only defensive pokémon on Eve's team of speedsters. Josh still hadn't really had a chance to see her in battle. She'd modified her armour, discarding some of the anti-Poké Ball twigs in favour of spongy bark and leaf litter.
"Iron Defence!" Eve called. Grovyle was faster, crossing the field with a blindingly fast Quick Attack. Twigs splintered under the impact – Pineco was thrown off her axis – Josh noticed the metallic flash of Iron Defence appear a second too late. If Pineco was hurt at all she didn't show it, simply hauling herself upright with a silken line.
"Uh, try a Mega Drain!" Green Apron called. There was a coy popping sound. Green bubbles began to pull themselves free of Pineco's body and drift briskly off towards Grovyle.
"Counter that," Eve said unconcernedly.
"Pineco," her pokémon said shiftily. She raised her upper armour plates discreetly. Grovyle's eyes widened in alarm -
Boom. A long chitinous spike thudded into the field where Grovyle has been standing just a moment ago. Pineco chased it with a couple more Spike Cannon rounds, a flat bang accompanying each one.
"A Hoenn starter pokémon isn't beaten that easy!" Green Apron yelled to the crowd. "Show them your Leaf Blade!"
The longest leaves on Grovyle's wrists extended and sharpened into a pair of straight, double-edged blades. Won't work. Grovyle crossed the battlefield in two swift bounds, forearms raised. Even if Pineco could have dodged, he doubted she would have bothered. The Leaf Blades slashed down. Pineco didn't seem to care. The attack cut through her outer bark armour but only scratched her chitin. Frustrated, Grovyle danced itself into a blind fury, futilely hacking at Pineco's armour.
"Seize the initiative! Take Down!"
"Dodge it!"
The crowd groaned sympathetically as Pineco collided heavily with Grovyle – its Leaf Blade bent violently out of shape.
"Oh my -"
"End it! Pin Missile!" Eve shouted. With surprising elegance Pineco hopped on the spot and started a Rapid Spin. Before Grovyle could get up she smothered it with a Pin Missile bombardment. Pins snaked out from Pineco's still-spinning body and exploded like crackling gunfire, each one detonating with a puff of acrid smoke.
"That's enough, Pineco," Eve declared. "We've won."
From what Josh could see through the haze, Grovyle was conscious but thoroughly shell-shocked. Its trainer looked somewhat shocked himself. Pineco was bouncing up and down, apparently happy to have won.
Green Apron rallied. "So you have. I'd ask for a rematch, but it looks like I have to visit the Pokécentre."
"That's ok," Eve said mildly. She turned to the crowd with a certain dramatic flair. "Goldenrod City! I challenge you to battle me. One-on-one! Consecutive battles! Who will beat my Pineco?"
In the end, Eve won three battles in a row. Not for the first time, Josh felt like an amateur next to Eve. She'd taken a slow, patient species and found a way to make it fit her intuitive battle style. Her opponents seemed to be actually unnerved by the concept of a pineco on the offensive. Pineco performed her attacks with an efficient elegance; her projectiles landed precisely where she wanted them to, and usually to the greatest effect.
There were still so many things to see at the festival. They were in a silk mercer's marquee, not far from the battlefield. A radio was on in the background, one of the local stations. Eve was trying on bandanas, leaving Josh to vaguely peruse ties he knew he couldn't afford. A dark green one caught his eye – it had a subtle leaf pattern running along the left-hand side. Smooth as water. He put it down and turned away with a disappointed sigh.
"- welcome into the studio, former Tigerlily Champion, the fabulous, Arcade Star Dahlia!" the radio chattered.
Eve appeared from behind a carousel of dresses. She'd settled on a magenta bandana that made her look like a pretty pirate. "It suits you! You should buy it," she said.
"Too expensive," Josh said. "I'll see you outside."
Eve emerged a few minutes later. "Where shall we go now?"
"I don't know. I'd rather not go back into the city just yet."
"Alright then," Eve said. "Oh, hey, a pop-up café! Let's stop there for a while."
The café was more of a bistro, set up beneath a wide canopy blazoned with the name 'La Fée Verte'. They sat up at the counter – Josh set his seed canister on the counter-top where he could keep an eye on it.
"The Green Fairy, eh? Couldn't get a glass of green fairy, could I?" Josh joked.
"Yes indeed, sir," the server replied smoothly. "Littleroot's finest."
"Explain?" Eve said.
"Absinthe, the drink of Kalosian bohemians and Unovan beatniks alike; but always very Hoenn," the server said.
"Groovy. Hook me up, juiceman," Eve said.
"I suppose I'll have one," Josh said, ignoring another burst of Eve's bizarre slang. "It's more or less appropriate at five o'clock anyway."
"Very witty, sir," the server said. He laid out a pair of absinthe glasses – curious glasses, they had bulbous reservoirs at the base that widened out into a typical tumbler shape. Into each glass went just enough deep green absinthe to fill the reservoir.
"During the nineteenth century, absinthe became so popular in Kalos that five to six o'clock became known as 'l'heure vert' – the Green Hour," Josh said pre-emptively.
"You are such a square," Eve said. "How do you know all this?"
"University Kalosian," he explained, watching the server add ice water and a little sugar to the neat absinthe. "And a year living abroad in Lumiose," he added wryly.
"You never told me you could speak Kalosian!" Eve said accusingly.
"When did it ever come up?"
"Voilà, your green fairy, sir."
"Merci, monsieur," Josh said distractedly. "It's about time we talked doubles strategy."
"Mm. Whatcha come up with, Daddy O?" Eve said, starting on her absinthe. Josh gave her a chilly look.
"I've been thinking about our battle styles. Fundamentally I think it comes down to this – my style requires that my opponent show their hand first. I need space to think at the beginning of each match. If I try to catch up with you from the start, we'll never synergise."
"I know you like to test the waters," Eve said. "I can adapt to that. Um … you know I don't plan, though. I have to battle on the edge."
"That's going to be a problem."
"Does it have to be?" Eve countered. "You know my pokémon, their moves, you know the way I like to battle."
Josh sipped at his absinthe thoughtfully. The complex aniseed flavour reminded him of Lumiose City. Eve wasn't wrong. He had a pretty good idea of what to expect from her in battle. That wasn't to say that she couldn't surprise him, but … well, got to compromise somewhere.
"Couldn't we at least scope out our opponents where we can?" he said.
"Can't hurt, I guess," Eve said. "For the sake of general strategy. What about your team?"
Josh shrugged. "I think I'll invest in a couple of TMs. Nature Power and Flash Cannon, I think. Perhaps Recycle -" He was cut off by the ringing of his Pokégear. He velcroed it off his wrist and glanced at the number. Home. Mum or Dad?
"Yeah?" he answered.
"Your telephone manner's improved," his dad's voice said.
"So has your wit," Josh parried. Predictably, Dad ignored that.
"How's the great Sunshine City?"
"This damn city … too busy, too crowded. Not enough green."
"Rather you than me," Dad said. "I saw your Gym battle. When did Bulbasaur evolve?"
"The day before, actually. What a battle … I'd run out of ideas, was about to forfeit, but Bulbasaur wasn't having any of it," Josh said. "It was his victory, really."
"He's come a long way. I expected him to evolve earlier."
Josh let out a small, irritated sigh. Of course you did, old man. Some fathers would say 'Congratulations', or 'Well done'.
"So they aired some of the footage," he said in an attempt to change the subject.
"They showed the whole battle. Saw it in the pub – you made the JPLN top ten."
"I'm quite pleased with how that battle turned out," Josh said vaguely, unsure of quite how to react to that news cutting.
"You shouldn't have made it difficult for yourself," Dad said bluntly. "Not using misdreavus."
"Have you forgotten that I won that battle?" Josh demanded.
"This time! You won't get away with it twice!"
"I was in control of that battle!"
"It was a risk," Dad insisted. "Half your team was weak to Flying-types."
"Dad …" Josh pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fionn's not got the right temperament for a Gym battle."
"She's disobedient?"
"No."
"Then what's the problem."
Exasperated, Josh screwed his eyes shut. "Dad, I've got to go. No, no, I've got work to do," he said, talking over him. "I've got training."
He hung up abruptly, slapped his Pokégear down on the counter-top, and went straight back to his absinthe. It was typical of the old man to be like this. He was getting heartily tired of the arguing over his training and tactics. Like I don't know my pokémon best, he thought sourly.
"An annoying conversation, huh," Eve asked. Josh grunted non-committally, still quietly fuming.
Eve sighed angrily. "Damnit Josh," she muttered, almost growling.
"What did I do?" Josh snapped. Eve gave him an affronted look, eyebrows raised expectantly.
I'm not playing guessing games. "Fine. Sorry. Whatever it is," he said.
There was a short, hot silence.
"So that's it, huh?" Eve said. "Just going to shut me out."
"What the hell are you on about?"
She sighed again, and looked away. "You are such a typical guy," she said contemptuously.
Josh felt his temper rise at that. Typical guy, is it! He deliberately turned away, taking an unwisely large draught of absinthe and paying no attention to Eve.
"Well?" Eve demanded.
"Nothing. Nothing at all," Josh said innocently.
"So that's it, then?"
"Yeah, that's it!"
Eve slammed her hand into the counter-top. "Ohh – you!" she raged, rising suddenly. She threw down a clattering handful of coins and stormed off in a fiery wrath.
Suit yourself, you hydreigon. He tried to go back to his absinthe, and think about possible Recycle strategies. That was easier said than done – his thoughts kept sliding back to Eve. When he was halfway down his absinthe his Pokégear rang again – he immediately hung up when it turned out to be Eve breathing fire at him.
I'm not going to apologise this time.
How am I going to apologise this time?
Josh stood outside the room, staring fixedly at the door number. He hadn't been able to concentrate after Eve left. The knowledge that she was angry with him had cooled his own temper, replacing it with a sad feeling in the pit of his stomach. After a while he just gave up and headed back to Millennium Centre.
Eventually, he opened the door.
The room might charitably be called cosy. The tiny bathroom on the immediate left accounted for at least a third of the space; the bunk bed and wardrobe in the alcove thus created accounted for most of the rest. Eve was sitting behind her laptop at the table opposite. She threw him a blazing look before very pointedly ignoring him.
Josh took a deep breath before starting. "Look, Eve -"
"I'm not interested."
"Eevee -"
"Don't call me that!" she said sharply. She didn't raise her voice. The words came out like hot steel. "I want an apology."
Josh forced himself to stay calm. You're not having it all your own way. "I know what you want to hear, but -"
"What did I just say?"
"Do you know why I didn't talk about that damn call?" Josh interrupted. A combative shrug. "Because I'd rather have a good conversation about you winning the Tourney than -" he broke off abruptly. "Than my dad."
Eve's expression softened a shade. "I talk to you about my family all the time. Are we any less friends for that?" she said. "Our friendship is unbalanced. I'd rather have times when we're sharing each other's annoyance – damn it Josh, being friends!"
Oh no. "You're right. You're right. I didn't realise," Josh said. He seated himself on the lower bunk with a sigh. "I'm sorry."
Eve gave him a penetrating look, but there wasn't really any fire in it. "I guess I wasn't being fair expecting you to figure it out," she admitted.
Josh managed a weak smile. "I can't stand it when you're angry with me."
"Yeah, I know," Eve said wearily. "Neither can I."
It seemed like half the trainers in Goldenrod were in Millennium Centre the next morning. Josh lurked discreetly in a sunny corner of the common room, giving his seed a sunshine-bath. In the meantime he was studying the girls again – looking for mannerisms to copy, listening to the way they spoke.
"Keeping the voice consistent is going to be difficult, Screwball," Josh murmured.
[Yes,] Screwball dutifully agreed.
Josh watched a girl walk by over the top of his glasses. More upright, usually shorter strides. A thought occurred to him. "Screwball, tu comprends Kalossais?"
[Yes.]
Interesting. So apparently his pokémon understood him, not the language he was using. That made sense. It wasn't like Screwball learned English any more than he had learned Magnemite.
[Time.]
"What? Oh," Josh checked his Pokégear. Time was moving on – he was supposed to be meeting Eve in a couple of hours. He headed back to his room, trying out a feminine walk along the way. In the stairwell he started singing softly, concentrating on his pitch. Some of the online sources he'd found recommended singing in a feminine voice for practice. It was helpful, too, that he was a good mimic – something that had been useful while learning Kalosian. He was still singing when he reached the room.
"What care we how white the spray is,
What care we, boys, for wind and weather?
When we know that -"
There was an unfamiliar Joy in his room.
He closed the door.
He opened it again. The girl hadn't spontaneously morphed into Eve – this one had sharper, leaner features, well suited for the scornful look she was giving him now. She was wearing an orderly's dress and armband.
"Get the fantasy out of your head," she said. "This dress stays on."
"What!" said Josh, instantly outraged.
"I don't care what Imogen says," Joy continued, ignoring him. "The Joys look after their own. So you'd better keep your hands to yourself."
This is about Eve. As bloody usual, Josh thought, trying to maintain his composure. "Eve is a grown woman," he said coldly. "She can make her own choices."
Joy gave him that fiery, nail-you-to-the-wall glare. It didn't have the same effect as when Eve used it. She seemed to realise this after a moment, and tried circling him slowly. Josh matched her step for step.
"What choice do you want? Do you like Evelina? Or do you just want to do her? Although," she added, "for a boy that's one and the same."
Josh took a long, deep breath. If Joy wasn't as self-centred as the average glameow she might have noticed the signs of a man who'd had enough. Had enough of being gossip, had enough of the slurs on his honour. That last snide little insult was the last straw.
"Is that all I am to you people?" he enunciated in a low voice. He carefully placed the egg canister on the table.
"Answer the question."
"Get out."
"Answer the question."
"Get out!" Josh snarled. "Or do I have to throw you out?"
It seemed to dawn on Joy that she was pushing her luck. She gave him one last sapphire-edged glare and flounced out, the effect of her attempted door slam spoiled by the slow hinges.
Josh collapsed on the lower bunk. Belatedly, he realised he really was angry enough to physically throw Joy out – and that realisation scared him. He lay back on the bed, screwed his eyes shut. He could feel a headache coming on. This damn city … Eve would have to wait a while. He ought to calm down properly first.
That night in National Park, light and music filled the plaza. Two rows of cheri trees formed a wide space in the middle, their boughs hung with dozens of lanterns. Their low, broad crowns sheltered an array of round wooden tables, whilst couples danced across the golden-brown brickwork paving to the Gold and Silver Waltz.
Josh was seated at the north-west side. It was a pleasant place to sit, in the cool night air, listening to the orchestra, with the blossom overhead like an awning of flowers. He glanced at the guy sitting opposite – a decent fellow, a student from Elemental Academy visiting Goldenrod with his girlfriend for spring break. Josh leaned back in his chair and sipped at his whisky-on-the-rocks – from a plastic tumbler, but at least it was the right shape for a whisky glass. He allowed himself a brief smirk at the sight of all the taller, broader, manlier men obviously uncomfortable dancing in formal wear. Josh was in formal wear as well – all in black, but for his dark blue tie. His waistcoat was embroidered with a complex pattern of cogs and gears in grey and silver thread.
"How old are you again, actually?" Reggie asked, only to look away.
"Twenty-one."
"I actually thought you'd be older," Reggie laughed. "Though not by much!" he added hastily. Just then he got up to greet his girlfriend; Josh glanced in that direction and saw – Eve.
Eve was wearing a black silk cheongsam patterned with sinuous dragonair designs in glittering gold brocade. She'd somehow managed to braid her hair together at the nape of her neck, together with a reduced Poké Ball. Josh paused with his whisky tumbler halfway to his mouth. This was unexpected.
"Don't we look dashing tonight," she commented. Josh lowered his whisky. Eve was actually wearing perfume for once.
"Well, aren't you going to ask me to dance?" she said.
"I don't dance."
"Coward," she said, smiling, and headed for the bar.
"Coward," he repeated after she'd gone. "Coward, is it!"
Eve leaned against the counter of the open-air bar and gave the barman a sharp look. "Yes, I'm sure," she said sharply. "I'll have a brandy."
"That one's on me," Josh said. "Unless the lady would care to dance?" He stood with one hand held formally behind his back, the other held out invitingly. Eve smiled doubtfully and put her hand in his.
Josh led his friend gently out onto the dance floor. The orchestra was still playing the Gold and Silver Waltz. He bowed; Eve bobbed a curtsey in return. He took her into a ballroom hold – her right hand in his left, his right hand on her shoulder blade. It had been years since he last waltzed, but his feet somehow remembered the steps. Unsurprisingly, Eve was an entirely adroit dancer.
"That waistcoat is very you," Eve said after he twirled her round a couple of times. "Gears for the boy from industrial Mulberry Town."
"It was a gift," Josh said, smiling despite himself. "From Adèle – I mean, a friend of the family."
"I never thought I'd see you bow!" Eve giggled. "You don't even bow to gods!"
"I don't respect gods."
The night breeze showered them with cheri blossom, each petal dancing with the others. Eve giggled, and slapped Josh's arm playfully with her free right hand. "You said you couldn't dance!" she said accusingly.
"No," Josh replied patiently, "I said I didn't dance."
"Where did you learn to waltz, you commoner," she teased.
"Aunt Cassie decided she wanted a touch of class for her wedding."
"Liar," Eve said. Josh moved into promenade – side-by-side and a little behind her, holding her left hand in his over her shoulder, right in right. "You haven't missed a step. Oh look, there's Miko and Reggie!"
"They were thorough lessons," Josh said sourly.
Eve was in the mood to dance, judging by her refusal to sit down after the first dance. The next piece was simpler, just the strings and piano. "Josh, check it out!" Eve whispered. "Whitney at two o'clock!"
Josh twirled her round to change direction sightly. The Goldenrod Gym Leader was holding court at a table under a tree, legs languidly crossed, talking excitedly with a bunch of other girls. Whitney was dressed for the occasion; what looked like rubies sparkled from her ears. "Are you kidding, I never ever miss a Tourney!" she was saying.
"Quite an exciting neckline, don't you think?" Eve whispered.
"Shh, never mind her cleavage!" Josh whispered back.
"No way, you're all entering?" Whitney enthused. "Ahhh, I just love the Tourney – no boys to overshadow us, amirite?"
There was a ripple of agreement from her courtiers. A pang of guilt shot through Josh's chest. He kept his face carefully still and led Eve round in a circle, to stay in earshot. "Are we scoping out rivals?" she whispered.
"Raichu is my ace," one of the girls was saying. She had a strong upper-class Goldenrod accent. "Nearly any pokémon falls if you slam a thick enough Thunderbolt through it."
The girls were helpfully talkative. The raichu trainer was an Electric-type specialist, with a tendency to think that sheer voltage would carry the day. Josh was positive that her friend was Casey from Violet City – the last time he saw her she had been wearing nothing more than a towel, but that bored expression was unmistakable. Two of the trainers were beginning to raise his suspicions. One was a shortish girl wearing a clutter of gold hair decs; the other, a very dark girl in a scarlet double-breasted blazer.
"Eevee. We should keep an eye on the two Unovans. They're participating in the conversation but they're not saying anything about their own pokémon."
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking they're smart enough to scope out the competition," Josh said grimly. Which meant that they'd be paying more attention to him during the Tourney than he'd like. He hastily steered them away just as the second dance was ending.
"You ok, sweetling?" Eve asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ok," Josh said haltingly. "It's just … look, I'm sorry I've been difficult to live with these past few days."
Eve pulled him into one of her forceful hugs. "It's ok. I'm sorry my cousin is such a pompous bitch."
"... I think I prefer you without the perfume," he said.
Eve laughed, breaking the hug. Towards the north a firework screamed up into the night and detonated in a flower of silver – the first of a display that lit up the sky.
"I think I'm ready for bed," Eve announced.
"Yeah, sure …" Josh said vaguely, giving the aspiring Tigerlilies one last uneasy look.