Chapter Five

In which Diantha says everything to her face

[Because look at her face– it's Gorgeous]

CW:
Alcohol
Sexual Content
(went a little further than I thought I would this chapter, but oh well! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ )

Cynthia stepped forward, digging into her deep coat pockets. "Got you a little something from the city." Pulling out a dawn stone, she intended to slap it into Diantha's hands. Instead, it slipped out of her hand, flinging it across the set.

"Cut!"

Diantha started laughing. "Just throw that at me why don't you," she said, speaking in her normal voice.

Straight-faced, Cynthia just said, "I meant to do that."

It had been a day filled with typical mishaps. Little things here and there that would go wrong. One of the fans would get knocked off its spot, blowing Cynthia's hair into her face. A few times she had missed Diantha's hand, practically slamming the stone into the ground.

Earlier, they had even discovered that Diantha struggled with the word "rock", unable to say it just right in her acting voice, which lead to a few laughs and explorations of what other words could she not rid of her accent.

The line was, "It's lovely, but you know this rock is useless to me, right?"

There were many times she would cut herself short, knowing full well she was about to mess up the word again.

Nobody seemed too stressed over the mistakes. It was an easy day, and the needed take was in there somewhere. After the hell that had been the previous week, for Diantha, it was a nice change of pace. Getting to laugh on set over silly mishaps was far more preferable to last week's events…

PAN IN

MOTEL INT. – EARLY MORNING

The lighting is dark. Early morning rays filter through the cheap curtains of the motel room.

Scarlet moves about the room quietly, while Elizabeth continues to sleep. Once Scarlet has everything she needs, she goes to her bag, taking out her lipstick to apply a fresh coat to her lips. After stowing that away, she then pulls out a pair of handcuffs.

Scarlet walks over to the bed, cuffing Elizabeth to the frame just as she starts to wake up.

ELIZABETH

What are you…?

Scarlet smiles at her, placing a hand delicately on her cheek.

SCARLET

Don't take it too personal, darling.

Elizabeth goes to move, realizing she's cuffed to the bed. She looks at Scarlet, who begins to straddle her with a wicked grin.

ELIZABETH

Scarlet! What is this about?

SCARLET

I've decided that it's in everyone's best interest that I do things on my own from here on out. Like I said, don't take it too personally.

Carefully, Scarlet leans down to place a kiss on her cheek. The Kiss of Death.

ELIZABETH

(trying to yank her arm free)

You bitch! You're double crossing me!

SCARLET

(laughs)

My dearest Elizabeth, why are you even pretending this is such a surprise? Think about the place where you first met me.

(she gets off her)

Nothing good starts in a getaway car.

Scarlet grabs the money, steals the keys to her car, and walks out of the room.

Elizabeth is unable to get to any of her pokémon for help. She yells out in dismay, but Scarlet ignores her.

Back during the first script meetings, both directors had tossed around the idea of having the scene where Scarlet "abandons" Elizabeth and Charles in favor of a large monetary reward being the opening scene. Tom was more keen on the idea than Lita was. He was insistent that it would throw off the audience if they were to cut it off just before Scarlet was handed the money. The scene would then transition into the original opening with Scarlet and Charles making their last getaway with William, with text at the bottom indicating how many months prior it was.

Both Cynthia and Diantha had sided with Blair on the matter. Trying to throw off the audience with something so simple would more than likely just make them skip the episode if they thought they knew the ending already.

Even as the time had come for the scene to be filmed, nobody was really sure if Tom was going to follow through on it. Whenever asked, he would just answer, "I'm still thinking on it", and leave it at that.

While that in its own right was frustrating, Cynthia was quickly discovering that the scene itself presented its own frustrations. Minimal clothing combined with the world's least supportive strapless bra left her feeling far too exposed.

Plus, having Diantha straddle her off and on throughout the day was flustering her in a way she wasn't expecting. In hindsight, she realized, she should have expected half as much, but it was only the night before as she read over the lines for the day that she realized there was a chance she was going to get flustered.

The anticipation of being flustered did nothing to help her in the moment. As didn't the amount of times Diantha had to kiss her cheek to get the perfect kiss mark for the camera to focus on. Once that was out of the way, the remaining camera angles for the scene wouldn't see it, so it had been wiped off, leaving Cynthia with only the memory of how soft her lips had felt against her cheek.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Cynthia remembered going over separating the emotions of her character from her own during her crash course with Beatrice.

The way Diantha moved so fluidly as she straddled her again for the take, combined with the look in her eyes, promptly threw that whole lesson out the window. No matter how many times she repeated to herself to separate the emotions, or tell herself "these are Elizabeth's feelings, not my own", none of it ever put out the fire that was slowly building.

"I think I've decided that it's in everyone's best interest that I do things on my own from here on out." Diantha leaned in, enjoying the way Cynthia was reacting below her just a little too much. Framing her hips with her legs with far too much purpose was a little too entertaining. It was all too easy to tune out the crew around them, looking at her as if they truly were alone together in some skeevy motel room. "Like I said, don't take it too personally."

Cynthia leaned up into her face, barely a breath between them. She yanked her arm from the handcuff, causing a rattle from the bedframe. "You bitch!" The cuff itself was minimally padded, leaving her with a dull ache in her wrist, as well as a revelation of sorts that she would have to think about later. "You're double crossing me!"

Diantha leaned back, laughing, this time going off the direction she had been given. Grabbing a long strand of Cynthia's messy hair, she carefully twirled it around her fingers.

Cynthia's breathing was shallow, and maybe it was just wishful thinking on Diantha's part, but she could swear that she was reacting a little more with each take. Leaning in closer when she had to get in her face, to when she had accidentally ground on her far more than necessary but was immediately met with a sharp breath and a heavy blink that told Diantha she was struggling to stay in character.

"My dearest Elizabeth, why are you pretending this is such a surprise? Think about the place where you first met me." Letting go of her hair, she started to remove herself from her lap. "Nothing good–" She stopped shot with a yelp. Instead of getting off with her usual grace, she snagged her foot on the blankets, casuing her to fall onto the wooden floor with a hard thud.

The set around her erupted into laughter, somewhere in there Lita calling "Cut".

Face red and hot from embarrassment, she rolled onto her back, covering her face with her hands. Peeking through her fingers, Cynthia was leaned over as best she could, looking down at her.

"I would love to help you up, but you did a great job of handcuffing me," she joked.

Covering her eyes once again, she groaned. "That's fine. I want to lie here in my shame, anyways…"

She told herself it was probably what she deserved for coming onto Cynthia so strongly. Especially considering it wasn't even a sexual scene.

"Hope you know that's gonna be the first thing on the blooper reel!" Tom said from across the set.

Just what she wanted to hear…


Sitting out on the lanai, listening to the ocean was about all Cynthia could do to continue her weak attempts at forgetting the day's events. Even now, many hours after they had been finished filming for the day, she could still feel the weight of Diantha straddling her if she thought about it too hard. Or at all, really.

Frustration sat low and hot on her, but any time she thought about taking a hot shower or something else to alleviate the problem, it would just lead her to chastising herself for even the mere thought of it.

She had told herself over and over again that she shouldn't have gotten so worked up over nothing. Diantha hadn't meant anything with her lines or how she was behaving. She was just a good actress. An excellent actress. A convincing actress. An actress who could probably separate the emotions of her character and her own.

Cynthia had tried her hardest to distract herself from the feelings by doing chores she had been avoiding for a while now. Her laundry was done and hanging in the closet, sheets and throw blankets had been washed, and the villa itself had been cleaned over thoroughly –something she couldn't even say the same of for her own home.

None of it was enough to take her mind off it completely. Now all she was left with was a clean living space, and an even stronger frustration.

Reaching over to grab her glass of water, picking it up left her hand slick with the condensation that had built on the cold glass. Something about it was enough to tip her over the edge.

With a grumble, she set the glass back down, heading in from the lanai. Sitting around telling herself not to think about what had happened only made things worse. There was a clear solution, and she was over ignoring it. So long as she pushed away all thoughts regarding Diantha, it would be fine.

Right?

Despite being completely alone in the villa, she slammed the door to the master suite behind her; everything bathed in the low afternoon light that filtered through the thin curtains, casting everything in a wash of orange.

Normally, she would sleep on the right side of the king-sized bed. Instead, she situated herself on the left side, tossing the majority of the pillows off to the floor. She could get frustrated about having to pick them up later. For now, she just wanted to be able to lie on her back.

The room around her was already far too warm. Before laying down she ripped off her shirt and the camisole underneath, tossing them on top of the pile of pillows. The sleeping shorts she had changed into earlier were quick to follow, leaving her in just her black bra and underwear.

Falling back onto the mattress, she was content to revel in the feeling of air on her bare skin.

After being worked up all day and denying herself any relief, she allowed herself to be more vocal than she typically would, a breathy gasp the second her hand dipped below her underwear. Light pressure and a few quick circles to her clit, warmth slowly crept over her body, making the room around her almost uncomfortable.

Typically, it wasn't something she was into doing for herself. She preferred it when it was someone else's hands doing the work, but a cursory test of one finger inside her led to two, telling herself that penetration was exactly what she wanted in the moment. A heady groan and she worked up a slow rhythm. She didn't want the experience to be over and done with. She wanted to draw it out as long as possible, savoring it.

The dull ache in her wrist brought her back to that goddamn handcuff. All day she had forced any and all thoughts regarding it away, not needing anything extra on the pile of things that were bound to make her break character sooner or later. But now she was free to indulge in those thoughts, allowing herself to explore precisely why she had liked it so much.

She knew she liked having as much control as possible in nearly all aspects of her life. The thought of relinquishing that control in any sense was foreign to her, but maybe that's what made it so enticing. Particularly when it was the thought of giving that control up to–

Diantha.

"Fuck, no–" she hissed, removing her hand, and forcing herself to even out her breath. Below her breast her heart still hammered away, and she could feel a thin sheen of sweat across her body.

She had told herself she wouldn't think about her during any of this. That was forbidden territory. She was forbidden. She was a friend, nothing more, and as far as she still knew she wasn't single.

No matter how much she tried to push the thoughts away and think about something else, it always circled back to her. Even despite her best efforts to think about anyone else, it ended up coming right back to her, because nothing else compared to the mental image of her handcuffing her to a cheap motel bed.

With a defeated sigh, she rolled onto her stomach, getting herself adjusted. As a compromise of sorts, she figured she could make it quick, even if that hadn't been her original plan. No matter what, she knew she was going to feel guilty, so she might as well at least enjoy herself for a little while, thinking about all the things she would be more than willing to let Diantha do to her.

She desperately wanted Diantha to handcuff her to a bedframe so she could have her way with her. She wanted to give every last bit of control over to her, because in the haze of her own ecstasy there was nobody more she trusted with that control.

Diantha was an excellent actress and an excellent battler. It stood to reason she would also be an expert in the bedroom. She may be petite, but Cynthia had a feeling she could be an absolute force of nature when she wanted to be.

She almost couldn't wait for the scenes where Elizabeth was basically asking to be put in her place. –Am I getting too rowdy for you, Kiss of Death? Need to feel in control again?– While she knew her acting voice would rile her up just fine, she was helpless to the thoughts of what all of her lines might sound like in her natural voice.

–Do I need to put you in your place now that you're back in my domain?–

–Maybe you do.–

The scene was to fade to black, but it was all too easy to imagine Scarlet having her absolute way with Elizabeth.

Somewhere in the midst of the thoughts of where that fade to black could go, Cynthia came hard with a loud, relieved, moan, feeling herself tighten around her own fingers.

Blissed out, she rolled onto her back and slung her other arm over her eyes, waiting for her breathing to even out once more. All while realizing that, when it came to Diantha, she was completely and unequivocally fucked…


The early morning desert air held a distinct chill to it. The sun had yet to rise over the distant horizon, and not a breath of air stirred. It almost reminded Cynthia of a late spring morning back in Sinnoh.

Diantha stood with her, situated at the side of the black car Elizabeth drove. It was cleaned and waxed, perfectly reflecting the desert scenery around them.

The scene they were filming for the day was set to be an easy one, just time consuming since it was a bunch of quick shots that would be put together in editing. It was a quick scene that would emphasize the amount of time that had passed when Elizabeth and Scarlet would take trips to this lookout.

It was a subtle thing, but Diantha had noticed that Cynthia had been avoiding eye contact with her all morning. She wasn't outright ignoring her, but she couldn't get her to look her in the eyes at all. Nobody else seemed to be getting the same treatment.

Diantha wouldn't push it yet, but she was curious as to what had gotten into her.

The thought that maybe she had pushed things too far the previous day during filming came to mind, but she wasn't certain. She hoped Cynthia would bring it up if there was something that was bothering her, especially if she had anything to do with it.

Thick clouds had moved into the desert, blocking the first few rays of the sun. One of the crew members had a Castform named Stratus that was in charge of keeping rain showers at bay, as well as helping with general weather ambiance. The pokémon and its trainer both figured the clouds would burn off soon enough.

While Cynthia and Diantha stood together, waiting for the crew to get things in order for the next quick shot, Cynthia's gaze turned to the sky, then she turned towards Stratus. As she did, the weather pokémon changed to its hail form.

Diantha followed her gaze, just in time for snowflakes to begin falling over the arid landscape. The few flakes that landed on her face surprised her. Sure, it was cold enough for snow, but it was the last thing she had expected from the desert.

All around them, everyone looked on in awe, murmurs asking when the last time snow in the desert had happened. Somewhere, someone answered with, "roughly eighty years".

"You didn't have him use Hail, did you?" Tom asked, his voice rising over the crew.

Stratus and his trainer shook their heads. "No! This is coming from nature, not a move!"

For the first time all morning, Cynthia looked to Diantha. She was about to say something, but her voice was overshadowed by Tom's.

"Hey, hey!" he called, getting their attention. "I know we don't have anything planned, but can you two adlib something? We can't pass this up!" Excitement was clear in his voice.

Hot anxiety shot through Cynthia. She wasn't prepared for this at all.

However, there was nothing she could do to stop it as they dragged sound equipment to them, and a camera over a crewman's shoulder.

Now she was petrified of screwing up the takes to the point of where none of the film would be usable, and it would be all her fault they lost out on a golden opportunity.

"Extra scene one, take one!" Lita called, not bothering to calibrate the digital clapperboard.

Feeling her bristling beside her, Diantha looked up to Cynthia, a smile on her painted lips. The sight of her in the snow felt like the most natural thing in the world, making it easy for her to take the lead. "Well, look at that, Elizabeth. Snow in the desert."

Despite it being her character voice, there was something so simple in the observation, Cynthia couldn't help but feel as though it was just a casual conversation between them. There was no need to worry if she sounded like Elizabeth or not. "That's…something else, alright."

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" Diantha followed, bringing her gaze to the distant landscape.

Despite knowing just how much of a cliché it was, Cynthia couldn't resist looking at Diantha as she responded, "Sure is."

The cameraman then panned quickly over the desert, and then received a cut.

"Again! Something else! Keep at it, ladies!" Tom directed.

"Take Two!" Lita followed.

Cynthia started them off this time, eased by Diantha's calm. "Well, Kiss of Death? Ever seen anything quite like snow in the desert?"

She shook her head. "Can't say I have." She laughed lightly. "I guess coming out here with you was a good thing after all," she said, leaning into her without pulling away. Personally, she was getting cold, and it was as good of an excuse as any to lean against her.

Carefully considering her actions, Cynthia put an arm around her, keeping her close. Despite the cool temperature that reminded her of home, she felt hot under the jacket she wore.

After about five more takes similar in nature, the snow stopped falling, Stratus returning to his usual cloud form, and Tom called for a break.

"Excellent work you two!" He praised. "Let's give it about thirty minutes for a lighting change, and then we'll get back at it."

Shivering a bit over-dramatically, Diantha turned herself to face Cynthia. "Shall we?" They were sharing a trailer for the day –though it was technically an RV, but still being called a trailer much to Diantha's dissatisfaction.

Cynthia nodded, going right back to avoiding eye contact. "Let's get out of the cold," she said. Truth be told, though, she was still hot, but that wasn't the forefront of her concerns.

By that point, she was sure Diantha had caught on to her inability to make eye contact. She had hoped the guilt from what she had done the previous night would have subsided by then. The second she saw her that morning, her thoughts shot right back to every little fantasy, and she realized that the guilt had never really left her.

The RV's temperature was far warmer than it was outside, leaving Cynthia to immediately discard her jacket on the back of the sofa. Looking up to Diantha, she sat at the dinette with her arms crossed and a pensive expression.

"Dear Cynthia–" that of all things was not helping "–I can tell something is bothering you. Is everything alright?"
She would sooner have somebody come punch her straight in the mouth than admit to what her problem was. There was something about the thought of saying, "Yeah, the thought of you on top of me kept me up pretty much all night, and now I can't tell if I'm dreading the upcoming bar scene or not. Because then I actually get to touch you, and how much worse will that make things?" that seemed decidedly inappropriate for a number of reasons.

"I just didn't get enough sleep," she half-lied.

Diantha hummed, crossing her legs. "That doesn't explain why you won't look me in the eye." She figured it was bet to be blunt, that way she gave Cynthia as little room to deflect as possible.

Feeling herself in a bit of a corner, she swallowed her pride and looked directly into her blue eyes. She reminded herself that she was an actress now, and had a skill at her disposal. "I promise you, I'm fine. With how little sleep I got, I'm just worried about saying something stupid." Another half-truth at best.

Her red lips rose into a smile, momentarily distracted from the conversation at hand. "While I wouldn't say you've said anything stupid, that first take was particularly cheesy," she joked.

Cynthia laughed half-heartedly. "Look, in that crash course I had on acting, we only spent maybe a few days on improvisation. I'm not exactly trained in that, okay?"

She was just enjoying teasing her. "I didn't realize you had such a soft side."

She leaned back into the sofa. "I can be a hopeless romantic when I want to be," she said.

Silence fell over them for a moment, giving Diantha time to think about her approach. She wasn't satisfied with Cynthia's answer, but didn't want to push too hard and end up upsetting her.

Threading her fingers together, she figured it was best to continue being straightforward. It was going to be an awkward conversation at best, but they might as well get it over with. "Cynthia, I worry I might have been inappropriate with you yesterday, and that is what's bothering you."

Heat crawled up the back of her neck. "What? Oh, that? No, you didn't bother me at all yesterday." At least, she wasn't bothered in the way she was implying. She bothered her in a much different way.

"This isn't going to be a fun conversation, so I'm just going to say it: I'm worried I was grinding on you too much." If it wasn't for her makeup, the color on her cheeks might have been more noticeable.

Cynthia, on the other hand, her makeup was much thinner, making her blush noticeable. If the conversation wasn't such a serious one, Diantha might have been tempted to explore that a little further.

"I mean, they told us not everything we do has to be completely in line with the script. Emotions and whatnot are more up to our personal interpretation." She worried she was being too textbook about this, but in her nervousness, she didn't know how to be any other way. "I just took it as– considering Scarlet isn't actually abandoning Elizabeth, you interpreted it all as…I don't know. Basically, some kind of foreplay thing they would be into. Seemed in character to me." None of it was a lie that time, but it certainly didn't help the color on her cheeks.

Diantha laughed lightly, resting an arm on the table. "While I'm glad we're on the same page, I do want you to know that if there ever is a time that I do anything to make you uncomfortable, you can tell me. I don't want to be doing to you what Alexander has been doing to me."

The more serious turn the conversation had taken helped ease the embarrassment. Or, at the very least, helped moved it to the back burner. "The same goes for you, Diantha. Even if it's during the bar scene or the fade to black, just let me know." The sudden remembrance of the scenes they had yet to film twisted her stomach into knots.

If she had been sexually frustrated from yesterday, when they hadn't even properly kissed, how much more of a mess would she be then?

It was a bridge she would have to burn when she got to it.

"This is only tangentially related," Diantha began, figuring it would be best to get them off the subject. "But have you found it odd that Tom seems so sure that Scarlet not abandoning Elizabeth is the biggest…twist, or however you want to phrase that? Because I still think the reveal that Elizabeth was in the mafia is the biggest reveal."

She leaned back a bit, laughing. "A mafia enforcer, at that." All the scenes dealing with that would be filmed in the upcoming weeks. The other guest star who was to play the mafia boss had a tight schedule, and so they could only film when she was available. As such, she hadn't been present during script meetings. "When am I supposed to meet my 'cousin', anyways?"

Her face lit up. "Coral Santos! Within the next few weeks, if I remember correctly. I can't wait for you to meet her. She's absolutely stunning."

"Oh, so even celebrities can have celebrity crushes?" she asked, amused.

She rolled her eyes in a playful manner. "She has a wife, so it's not like I would even stand a chance– but yes. She's a model and actress, and we've crossed paths plenty of times. This will be the first thing we've been in together, though…"

She gushed over her celebrity crush some more, all to Cynthia's amusement. There was a split second in there she thought to be jealous, but she couldn't bring herself to even experience the emotion. Not when it came across to her so clearly as a celebrity crush, and nothing more.

She was looking forward to meeting her before, but now she just wanted to see how Diantha would handle herself around her.

Before either of them knew it, they were being called for another take.

Once done for the night, Cynthia and Diantha returned to the RV to change out of their clothes. Cynthia's outfit was the easiest, only needing to hang up her coat back on its rack.

In the middle of getting changed in the back room, Diantha's phone began to ring from her purse. Not bothering to put her undershirt on, she walked over to the vanity to grab her purse. The sight of Mel's name was enough to make her roll her eyes.

Still unwilling to give him an answer, she ignored the call and shoved her phone back into her purse. He knew her schedule, and he was still in the region. If he really wanted to amend things, he would have to do so in person.

Until then, she was going to do something she was positive would make her happy. She had been mulling over asking Cynthia to go out for drinks for a while now, but his stubbornness was enough to push her over the edge.

Returning to her discarded undershirt, she threw that on along with a top, then grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair.

Heading into the main area of the RV, she was relieved to see that Cynthia had waited on her.

"My dear Cynthia, I was wondering," she began, waiting for her full attention.

"What's up?" she asked, casually throwing an arm over the back of the sofa.

"I know it's a little last minute, but I was wondering if you would like to go out together tonight? Since it's the end of the week."

She glanced away briefly, but quickly returned her attention to her. "I was thinking about asking you the same thing, actually, so yeah! That'd be great. Just the two of us?"

Unsure if she was asking that as a way of wanting to invite others, she shrugged. "If there's anyone else you would like to invite, that's fine." She didn't want to force her to be around her exclusively.

Cynthia brought her arm back around, resting her hands in her lap. "Oh, sorry– I actually meant that more as a 'can it be just the two of us'? I feel like it's been a while since just you and I got to go out together." There definitely wasn't an ulterior motive there. Certainly not. She just simply wanted to be around her friend, just the two of them, and it certainly had nothing to do with anything. [Because it had to do with everything and just maybe she was getting a touch desperate.]

"I would like that very much, dear Cynthia."

And just maybe she was on the same page.


Leaving the decision up to Diantha, she ended up picking a nicer bar on the south side of Castelia. It wasn't as high up as the restaurant they had been to the first time they got together, but it still offered a lovely view of the city around them, and out into the harbor. Despite it being a Friday night, there wasn't much of a crowd, something both women were thankful for.

They sat at the end of the bar away from the few others who sat there, talking over how the day had gone, and bonding over their mutual love for drinks that were so sweet the alcohol was hardly noticeable.

After about half a drink, however, Diantha began to feel its effects. It was a clear reminder that she hadn't eaten properly all day, and needed to remedy that before it was too apparent to anyone else.

However, that plan quickly went to hell as Cynthia made an offhanded comment that was far funnier than she intended it to be, bringing Diantha to a fit of giggles.

Cynthia smiled, looking between her and her drink. "Not even a full drink, huh?" she asked. Though, in all fairness, her drink was pretty strong in comparison to what she had been expecting, so likely hers was, too.

Diantha rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep herself from giggling. "I might have realized I haven't had much to eat since breakfast." So much for not wanting anyone to notice. She hoped Cynthia wouldn't think too much into it.

Glancing quickly to the digital clock on the wall, it sent a bit of panic through Cynthia. She would have at least suggested somewhere with proper food. Though, as she grabbed the menu from a few seats down, she realized this was probably fine.

"Get something to eat. I'll buy," she said, passing it over to Diantha.

She pouted. "I don't like bar food, though." Just the mere thought of greasy food made her stomach turn. She would stick to her drink if that's all there was.

Cynthia's hand came in her line of sight, and it took a lot of restraint to not let herself get distracted by something as simple as her long fingers. "Diantha, there's literally an entire vegan section. This isn't typical bar food, and much less typical Unovan bar food," she pointed out.

"I hadn't noticed that," she said, because she was still distracted by her fingers. Wardrobe kept her nails manicured and short, and then she was begging herself to stop the thoughts for at least a few seconds so she could function.

"Can I ask why you picked this place?" It obviously wasn't for the menu.

She shrugged, forcing herself to keep her attention on the menu. "I know the owner and have been meaning to stop by," she answered. At the very least, she found herself at least interested in a few of the meals. A rarity.

Cynthia laughed lightly, taking a long sip of her drink. Throwing an arm over the back of her chair, she turned to face Diantha better. She was quickly realizing it was probably unfair to make fun of Diantha for being a lightweight, because she wasn't fairing much better.

Alcohol really made it hard to drown out all the thoughts she had been having as of late.

"So, do you know just about every bar and restaurant owner in Castelia, or…?" she asked.

Diantha looked at her, a glimmer of something playful in her eyes. "Just the bars where the owners are gay."

It got a laugh from Cynthia. "I mean, I'm not sure if it was the rainbow Sunflora mascot, our bartender, or just the general vibe of this place, but I had a feeling it was owned by someone gay."

"She's not here tonight, but Vanessa is an absolute dear. Not my type, but I enjoy her company," she explained, now deciding between two different meals.

Normally, Cynthia might have refrained from asking, but inhibitions be damned. She wanted to know. "What is your type?" Part of her expected her to just end up describing Mel, but the other part of her was hoping for something.

Heat crept up her back, and instead of weighing meal options, she was weighing being honest or not. "Why do you want to know that?" she asked carefully. Answering a question with a question was the only way she was going to avoid giving away too much.

"Just curious. I still don't have you completely figured out, but I would like to." Thankfully, Diantha didn't notice the look-over she gave her. She was enjoying the view a little too much.

She watched as Diantha turned in her chair to face her, their knees almost touching. Maybe she was just looking for some semblance of confirmation that she would stand a chance if she were single.

Searching her face, she couldn't tell if she was going to answer her. All she was sure of was that she was at least weighing her options.

Which she still was.

Between the alcohol in her system, and the look in Cynthia's eyes that gave her the flicker of hope that maybe she wanted her too, there was little left to keep her from being honest. "Typically, I have a very strong affinity for–" tall blonde women.

The sound of her phone buzzing on the countertop interrupted her. At the sight of Mel's name, the warmth in her stomach turned bitter. "Ugh, stars above, what does he want?" she grumbled, making the decision to ignore the call. She still refused to accept anything other than an in-person apology, and she wasn't about to let him ruin her drunk evening.

"Mad at him?" Cynthia guessed, leaning an arm on the countertop.

She nodded, shoving her phone into her clutch purse. "He's been in the region the whole week, and yet couldn't even make time to come see me; and after Alexander grabbed me all Mel had to say was 'it happens', which–" She just shook her head. It wasn't a road she was looking to go down.

She would blame asking the question on alcohol. "Can I ask what you see in him? Because, for me, I would have left his ass for that." For a second, she worried it was too harsh, or potentially blaming Diantha, but she merely shrugged in response not seeming to take offense.

"I sometimes wonder, dear Cynthia…" She trailed off, listening in to the bar around them. Somewhere in listening to the steady noise of conversation, she convinced herself to at least tell Cynthia. "Actually, I…" She shrugged. "I told him that I didn't think we should be together any longer, and that I needed time to think if I wanted to stay with someone who can't even at least act like he cares. If he wants to apologize to me, it has to be in person. I haven't seen him in months, and it's the least he can do."

Cynthia wanted to reach over and grab her hand, but refrained from doing so. She was already crossing lines she thought she shouldn't. "You deserve someone who doesn't have to act like they care, Diantha. You deserve someone who genuinely does care."

Sincerely, she hoped that it wasn't coming across as though she was implying she was that person. Even if they parted ways after this as friends and nothing else, she firmly believed Diantha deserved better. Even if they could never be together in any way, she wanted the best for her.

Silence sat heavy between them, neither sure of where to go from there.

Before Cynthia could attempt to apologize for the change in mood, the bartender wandered over to their side, asking if they needed anything.

She was a young woman, maybe only a year or two younger than them, with a stocky build that told Cynthia she could probably bench her without much trouble. While butch wasn't typically her preference, she wouldn't deny that she was at very pleasant to look at.

"Oh, yes, actually," Diantha said, returning to her menu.

With a quick glance at the menu, Cynthia ordered something after her, only half sure of what she picked.

"Would it be alright if we moved to the terrace for a while? I'm getting a little too warm," Diantha asked, hoping Cynthia wouldn't mind moving. Partially, she just hoped the change of scenery would get the atmosphere between them back to what it had been.

"Yeah, go for it! I'll flag you down when your foods ready," she said.

Hopping out of her seat, Diantha grabbed her drink, waiting on Cynthia expectantly.

She grabbed hers, allowing Diantha to take the lead. Being too warm was just a staple of being in Unova at that point, so she wasn't about to complain.

Out on the terrace, fairy lights were strung up to create a small canopy, and there was a constant breeze. Around them, the city was loud and alive, charging the air.

"What time is it?" Cynthia asked, thinking it was earlier than it was, even though she had checked the time only a few minutes prior.

Diantha gave her the time as they approached the railing, however, the number she said was definitely over twelve.

She caught herself laughing. "I'm sorry, what time is it?"

She failed to see what was so amusing. "Twenty-one–" but as she said it she realized what Cynthia was getting at. "Oh, right." She placed her drink on the railing's flat top, mindful of the extra barrier that would keep her from accidentally pushing it over the ledge. "Twenty-four hour clock, darling," she reminded.

Cynthia laughed again. "Oh, right. Kalos uses that nonsense," she joked, nudging her slightly. Diantha was warm at her side despite the cool night air.

"It makes perfect sense! It bypasses the nonsense of AM and PM!" she defended. Granted, time telling wasn't something that ever tripped her up. She just liked having something to tease Cynthia about.

"Oh, please," Cynthia responded, forcing herself to look away from Diantha.

Below them the cars moved slowly. Despite it being past nine PM, there was still traffic going in and out of the city. It was one of the things that made her thankful for being able to fly everywhere with Braviary.

"What does AM even stand for?" Diantha continued.

Cynthia took a sip of her drink. "Am Morning," she stupidly responded, getting a snort of a laugh out of Diantha that was entirely too adorable for her to handle while this tipsy.

"PM?" she asked, too amused to point out how stupid her answer had been.

"Past Morning," she said with enough conviction that it might as well have been a fact.

Diantha rolled her eyes. "No, it doesn't!" At least she hoped not. She didn't know what it actually stood for, but surly to the gods above it didn't stand for something so stupid.

Shifting her weight to one foot, she leaned into Diantha. "Probably not, but okay, you know what? You know what really doesn't make sense?" she asked.

It took every ounce of restraint Diantha had to keep down the sudden desire to lean in and kiss her shoulder.

Alcohol.

"Tell me, darling," she said.

Even though she said it to nearly everyone, the frequent use of "darling" had long threatened to be Cynthia's undoing. It combined with being looked in the eyes was turning into something of a weakness. "French numbers," she answered.

Not what she was expecting, Diantha leaned back, covering her mouth to laugh. At the very least, she did understand where Cynthia was coming from.

"I may know next to nothing in French, but I do know that counting in French is absolute nonsense!" Cynthia continued.

"It's not that bad!" she defended before taking another sip of her drink. She was leaning in too close again, and soon enough all the distractions in the world might not be enough to keep her from resisting the desire to kiss her.

Straight-faced, she said, "Four twenties, five tens."

"That's not even a number!" Four twenties, quatre-vingts, was technically eighty, but five tens wasn't anything.

Cynthia placed her drink aside, leaning back into the railing. "But isn't it, though?" she asked.

In the few moments that Diantha silently calculated her next move, Cynthia found herself quickly becoming overwhelmed. More than anything, she wished she could confidently say that Diantha was single. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that, "Needing time to think" wasn't a definitive answer.

She wished she would just allow herself to see it as a grey enough area so she could just get one reckless and selfish kiss out of the way, and to never have to face the feeling again.

Well, at least not until they had to kiss on set.

Without prompting, Diantha began to speak in French. Just about every word was lost on Cynthia, and yet, somehow, she found herself now at a loss for words. She wanted to continue teasing her, but Diantha had completely stolen her thunder.

While she figured not likely, Diantha could have been calling her all kinds of obscenities for insulting the French counting system, and she would have still found herself completely and utterly enamored.

Her face and neck were growing warm, quickly treading into hot. None of it was from the alcohol.

In the middle of speaking, Diantha realized the effect she was having. She would continue speaking French the entire night if it would keep Cynthia looking at her like that.

A grin worked its way onto her face. "Did I just fluster you?" she asked, confident in the answer. She just wanted to hear her say it.

Cynthia almost had to remind herself to breathe. Reluctantly, she answered, "…Maybe."

Diantha covered her grin, but it didn't help Cynthia any. Still, she was thrilled to just have that information, tucking that away somewhere in the back of her mind for later use.

Cynthia suddenly found the need to defend herself. "You haven't spoken French to me directly before, and it's a charming language, and–" Really, all she was doing was digging her grave even deeper. "I don't know! Don't read too much into it!" Which was just her way of silently pleading for her to think more into it, and keep talking in French.

Maybe, if she was lucky, she would get to hear what "dear Cynthia" sounded like.

Diantha removed her hand from her mouth, placing it on Cynthia's arm. Her skin was warm to the touch. "Darling, I was just scolding you about numbers. If something that simple can fluster you, should I read you my grocery list?" she asked, curious to know just how simple she could make things and still fluster her.

With her free hand, she placed it over Diantha's. While she wanted to intertwine their fingers together, it was safer this way. It could still be interpreted as platonic this way, and she could wait until later to give herself hell for it. "You're a jerk, you know that?"

"Am I now?" she asked with a heavy blink.

That combined with the fairy lights reflecting in her eyes was enough to make Cynthia reconsider exactly where she stood on the whole matter.

Unfortunately for the part of her that was growing increasingly desperate, there was enough of a voice in the back of her mind telling her not to give in. She would need another drink before that could be properly drowned out, and knowing that, she would be mindful if ordering another.

"Just don't try to make fun of me. One of my gym leaders speaks French, so I at least know what that sounds like." Really, any of what she did know of French came from Fantina teasing her.

Though, her teasing was in a far tamer vein.

They talked a while longer, enjoying the night air and all it was worth. They took playful jabs at one another, countering each other's quick remarks like passing notes in secrecy. Diantha would slip in a little French here and there, if only because she enjoyed the way Cynthia's hand would squeeze her quickly disappearing drink as if she was trying to hold in something.

By the time both their drinks were empty, neither were sure how much time had truly passed, too absorbed in one another's company.

"Hey, champions!"

Taking the hand back she had on Cynthia's arm, they both turned towards the doorway. The bartender was waving them down.

"I guess I've cooled down enough, anyways," Diantha said, grabbing her empty glass.

Cynthia said nothing, only grabbing her glass as well, and following Diantha back inside. Thankfully, their original seats hadn't been taken.

Swiping their empty glasses from them, the bartender then wiped down their side of the bar, walking off before returning to them with their meals. "Need another drink?" she asked.

Diantha looked at her meal before making her decision. "Yes, but I think I would like something different. I don't remember what it was called, but I remember it tasting like orange and vanilla."

She nodded. "Got'cha." She then looked to Cynthia. "What about you, Sinnoh?"

"Same as before, but also some water, please."

"Coming right up," she said, turning away from them to grab new glasses. After a little deliberating over a few different multicolored bottles, she began to work on her drink, ending with a hearty splash of orange juice.

Cynthia looked on as the bright orange drink was placed in front of Diantha. "Orange and vanilla, huh?"

After a cursory sip that brought a warm smile to her face, she handed it to Cynthia. "Just try it," she said.

One sip and she immediately regretted the drink that was then placed in front of her. It tasted like an orange creamsicle, and while not her favorite ice cream, it was an absolutely delightful drink.

Begrudgingly, she handed it back to her. "I don't want to think about how much of that I could drink."

Halfway through their meals, Diantha officially hit the point of not caring. Her phone vibrated from within her purse, but she still wasn't going to answer Mel. She was mad, and she wasn't about to answer him while drinking. She would just end up saying things she would regret later.

Though, that wasn't exactly going to stop her from saying things she might regret all together. "Can I make a drunk confession, dear Cynthia?"

She laughed a bit. "Go for it." She turned to better face her, dying to know where this was going to go.

She kept her focus on her half full drink. It was getting watery at the top. "At the last international meeting, after your introductory speech, I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk."

It wasn't anywhere in the ballpark of what she was expecting. She laughed again. "How do I talk?" She didn't think she had much of an accent. At least not in comparison to some Sinnoan accents.

She shrugged, taking a quick glance at her. "You're very well-spoken, and I don't know if you're aware but you speak and carry yourself with such a regal air when you're confident an– anyways."

She was at least a little flattered.

"I was more just…frustrated is all. Your welcoming speech was lovely, and after what…" she was embarrassed that she struggled to think of the correct number. Definitely no more drinks after that one. "Four meetings at that point? I still hadn't gotten the courage to say more than hello to you?"

Cynthia desperately tried to follow the logic, even with it being drunk logic, she couldn't figure it out. Leaning on one arm, she gave her a generous look-over. "I'm not understanding."

"Neither do I, honestly. I think it all comes down to that from the second I very first saw you, I thought you were absolutely gorgeous, and it burned me." Burned her in a few ways.

Warmth returned to her in an instant. The admission alone was getting her hopes up again, and it was getting easier to drown out the part of her that was saying this was a bad idea.

Though, admitting she found her appealing didn't necessarily mean she wanted her in any sense. Like how she found their bartender appealing. Nice to look at, but not what she desired in the moment.

"I'm pretty enough to make you mad?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going. She didn't need to make it too apparent that she was overthinking everything.

She leaned back in her chair, taking her hands off her drink. Pretty didn't even begin to cover what she thought of the woman sitting next to her. Stunning, ethereal, "a face so gorgeous I can't stop thinking about it when I'm drunk, or as of late, all together," were all descriptors that came to mind.

"You should ask Siebold sometime for the entire discography of my drunken complaining. He had to suffer it…more than once." She was definitely going to regret admitting all of that later, but it was too late to take any of it back.

It at least got a genuine laugh from her. "A very patient man." Outside of Diantha at that point, he was probably the only person in the Kalos League she really ever had a conversation with. From what she remembered, he was a very passionate man when it came to art, and he was a joy to battle. Diantha talked about him frequently enough for her to assume they were very close.

For a while, they continued to eat in silence, Cynthia trying desperately not to think too much about the gorgeous comment, and what she wanted it to mean.

Granted, maybe it didn't matter what she wanted it to mean. It could mean exactly what she wanted it to. It could mean that Diantha was wanting her as bad as she drunkenly wanted her, but with her still tentatively in a relationship, she wouldn't do anything. She wasn't a side girl, and she knew she deserved someone's undivided attention.

Alcohol was making it a difficult battle, though.

"We're filming in Nimbasa on Monday, right?" she asked, breaking herself from her thoughts.

Diantha nodded, wiping her mouth on her napkin. "Correct."

Which meant they were filming the bar scene, where Elizabeth was going to get very handsy with Scarlet around of a lot of people. "Can I ask how awkward this is going to be?" She quickly amended with, "Since it's in front of cameras and all that."

She forced a laugh, taking a drink of her water. "Terribly, I'm afraid, and to be honest with you: I can't say I've ever done a scene like this with another woman." She had kissed a few other women in her acting career, but none of the scripts had ever called for getting physical with one another in any way, and certainly no fade to black scenes, either.

"New in ways for both of us," Cynthia grumbled. The frustration was of a different sort, though. All she could think about was the part of her that was excited to actually be able to get her hands on her. It was all she had wanted since the day prior filming the handcuff scene. Her wrist still ached from that.

Realistically, though, she knew she would be a nervous wreck. Having to get handsy around a bunch of extras and cameras all while acting like they weren't there was going to be an absolute nightmare.

"Usually," Diantha carried on, "I get asked something like, 'is filming those scenes as hot as it looks'?" She laughed a little bit. "I hate to tell people that it's actually terribly awkward. I always end up getting yelled at for not appearing as into it as I should be, and lots of general yelling for hand placements." She doubted she would have much trouble with it, however.

If anything, she ran the risk of seeming too into it, which might be breaking character.

Meals finished and neither of them wanting any other drinks, Cynthia paid their tab and they headed out for the night.

"Can I fly you back to your apartment?" she asked.

"I would love that, dear Cynthia." Not just for the kindness in the gesture, but for the simple fact that it meant Cynthia's arm was going to be around her.


They made a smooth landing outside Diantha's apartment building. As before, Diantha thanked Braviary with a ruffle of her face feathers; a gesture the bird was quickly getting used to.

Cynthia told herself to not offer, to leave things as they were, but her mouth betrayed her. "Let me walk you in at least."

She knew she shouldn't have offered, because as Diantha said yes and began to lead the way, she recalled Braviary and knew exactly where this was headed. She had also started to hit the point of not caring. Implications be damned. That was a problem for Sober Cynthia in the morning.

The lobby of the old art deco building had been modernized at some point. White marble floors, and most of the furniture was black and minimalistic. Opposite the side of the wall with the elevators sat a large, old grand piano that caught Cynthia's attention.

Following her gaze, Diantha then looked back at her. She vaguely remembered something about an event that had been held recently where they had someone come play for the residents, so she was positive it was at least in tune. "I'm sure you've never been asked this, but are you able to play the piano, my dear?"

She almost laughed. She had been asked that plenty of times in her life, along with if she was able to play basketball –she couldn't even if her life depended on it. Piano, however, she could.

"I can. It's been a while, but yeah." She took a step towards it. "Think I'd get in trouble?" she asked with a grin.

She quickly glanced to the desk where the attendants would usually be. They were alone in the lobby. "I doubt it."

Walking over with her to the piano, they sat together on the bench. To Cynthia's surprise, there was a folder with some sheet music haphazardly placed inside.

"I'm going to warn you now, though, like I said, it's been a while since I played, so no clue how good I still am." It had been well over six months since she last touched any piano keys, and the last time she had she was pretty sure it was just an electronic keyboard.

Looking below the piano, she gave a cursory tap to its pedals. They hardly made a sound, which was a relief to her. One of the last real pianos she had played on, its pedals made a sound every time she used them.

Returning her attention to the folder of music, she skimmed through it. Most were easy pieces, or would be better when accompanied by a cello or other string instrument.

One sheet in particular caught both their attention.

"Please tell me you can play that one," Diantha said.

"If it has all the pages, I can," she answered. She was used to the piece being six pages in length, but this one had been condensed into three. While the music was all tiny and barely readable, it at least made it so all the music could fit on the piano rack. "You're in luck."

She clasped her hands together in excitement. "I can't say I'm familiar with most classical music names, but Clair De Lune is my absolute favorite."

"I'm gonna warm up real quick," she said running through what she could remember of a few scales. "My old instructor would always get onto me for how I liked playing Clair De Lune. I always thought he rushed through it, and I liked to take my time with the piece. I played it way too slow for his liking."

A few missed notes here and there, but it all came back to her quickly.

Being a touch drunk helped, too, because it stopped her from being too critical of herself long enough to get properly warmed up.

Even just watching her warmup, Diantha found herself already completely entranced by the way her hands moved along the keys. She worked the piano so well, in a flicker of a thought, she wondered what else her hands would be good at.

Thoroughly warmed up, Cynthia paused, looking over to Diantha. "Apologies in advance if I also upset you with how slow I tend to play this."

"I doubt you could do such a thing."

With a deep, steadying breath, she started playing.

If she hadn't been so entranced with her hands, Diantha would have been tempted to close her eyes and savor the piece. Low and slow, she started to understand why she might have gotten in trouble for taking the piece so slow, but hearing it live, she couldn't imagine it being played any other way.

Watching Cynthia herself was also a bit of a marvel. She moved with the music, and had a smile on her face that Diantha found herself lost in.

In some of the quieter moments, Cynthia allowed herself to steal a glance at Diantha; something she would surly regret later, because she was looking at her in a way maybe nobody ever had. Especially in regard to her playing. She had been told plenty of times that she had "sounded good", "she played nicely", or other basic pleasantries.

The way Diantha looked at her had her feeling like she was the best pianist on the planet –which was definitely far from the truth with how many times she had messed up by the end of it piece.

For a moment, Diantha almost had to remind herself to breathe. By the time she voluntarily did so, the final note had completely faded away into the high ceiling.

Leaning over, she rested her head on Cynthia's shoulder, content to be nowhere else than right there with her in that moment.

Cynthia brought her hands down from the keys, placing them in her lap, figuring if she gave into the desire to put a hand on her, the night would just continue down the path she had initially assumed it would.

"I'm going to leave Mel," Diantha said after a long silence.

It was so unexpected, Cynthia laughed, allowing herself to place a hand on Diantha's leg, just above her knee. "My playing that bad you have to reevaluate your whole life?" She was aware she had missed a few notes, and a few of the runs were sloppy at best, but she was still inebriated so she cut herself some slack.

Diantha shook her head, wrapping her arm through Cynthia's. "No, my dear Cynthia, I would argue the opposite. Sitting next to you while you played…that's how I want to feel with a person."

Pulling away just enough to make them look at one another, Cynthia looked her over. She was getting more drunk admissions than she ever thought she would, and she was in no frame of mind to worry about pushing her luck. "How did that make you feel?" she asked.

She let her hand trail down her arm as she spoke. "Grounded. Like nothing else in the world mattered except us in that moment. I wasn't worried about filming, deadlines, what people might say or think, or– anything, really. All that mattered was the calm you brought me, and how without meaning to you've made me feel like the most important person in the room."

Cynthia laughed low, moving once again so that she could take hold of Diantha's hand. No touching be damned. "Admittedly, you kind of are the only other person in the room right now," she joked.

She laughed in a breath, pulling on her hand. "While that may be true," she continued with feigned annoyance. "What I'm getting at is that I can't remember the last time Mel even made me feel something close to this, and why do I continue to stay with someone who has made me feel second best for so long?" For so long she had been convincing herself that she needed a reason. One solid reason to leave, when the truth of the matter had been right in front of her the whole time: simply not wanting to be together was a reason.

"That's a bit of a high bar. As much as I would love to be able to play the piano every day to give someone–" you "–that kind of calm, I don't know that that's realistic, either." But damn if her drunk self wasn't thinking about how much she would be willing to put in that kind of effort, though.

She responded with a one shoulder shrug. "I don't disagree, but it's not as though I would expect that every day, or maybe even every week. I realize acting in romance for so long has probably tainted how I view relationships, but being reminded of that feeling now and then would just be…nice."

The had been a time and day when Mel had gone to great lengths to win over her affection. Once he had won her over, within a year he lessened his efforts to keep winning her over, and by year two of their relationship he had all but stopped.

Drunk hindsight was a hell of a thing.

Cynthia thought to tell her that she had then just lowered the bar too much. There was a healthy median somewhere in there, but she was too drunk and tired to figure out precisely where that middle ground was.

"Can I keep playing for you?" she instead offered.

"I would love few things more, dear Cynthia."

For another half hour or so, Cynthia continued playing the piano for her. She went through pieces she still had memorized, then onto others where she knew smaller parts, and ending off on what was more or less just her riffing, enjoying spending time with Diantha more than anything. The quality of her playing didn't matter to her, so long as Diantha was happy with it.

Eventually, with a deep yawn, Diantha excused herself for the night, both of them aware it was probably for the best. No matter how much they both wanted the night to not end, there were things that needed to be in order before either of them could risk indulging in one another's company the way they wanted to.

Though, as Diantha stood in her arms to give her a hug goodnight, her head rest on her chest to where she could hear her heartbeat. She remembered teasing Cynthia earlier in the day for her cheesy line out in the desert, but in truth she wasn't much better. All she could drunkenly think about was that of all the pieces she heard that night, her heartbeat was secretly her favorite.

When she stepped out of the circle of her embrace, she felt herself hesitate. She knew she would chastise herself for it the second she was out of her sight, but for now, she was going to give in just a little, one last time for the night.

Reaching up to gently put a hand on her cheek, she pulled her down to kiss her cheek, still having to stand on her toes to do so.

Her breath hitched, and the resulting smile she felt against her skin was enough to make her feel lightheaded.

"Thank you for a wonderful night, my dear Cynthia."

Her dear Cynthia. That was new. She had heard 'my dear' and 'dear Cynthia' plenty of times, but there was something about the combination that was making her feel borderline reckless. "Anytime," she said, not trusting herself to say any more than that.

One foot after the other, she forced herself to leave for the night. They still had to see one another Monday morning, and she had a conversation she needed to mentally prepare for.

On her flight back to Undella, Cynthia thought over the specificities of what it was she wanted from her at that point. It wasn't a line of thought she would have even considered back when filming began. Now, every answer from simply how much she wanted to have kissed her, to wondering if anything she had fantasized about the previous night was anywhere on the horizon, all thoughts left her feeling guilty.

Braviary's wings kicked up sand as she came in for a landing out front of the beachside villa.

Sliding off the back of her pokémon, instead of stepping away from her, she leaned back on her arms against the bird.

Braviary craned her neck around, looking at her trainer.

Cynthia forced a laugh. "I'm an idiot, huh?"

She cooed softly in response, the sound reassuring her some.

With a firm pat to her back, she finally pushed off her. "You going to roost out here tonight?"

She nodded, quick to take off to assume her spot on the roof.

Inside, apart from the sound of the air-conditioning unit, things were quiet. Quiet enough to hear her own thoughts.

Sleep. She needed sleep.

She also needed someone to talk to, but with how late it was already, that would have to wait until the morning. At least it gave her time to consider who she wanted to talk to.

Her sister was absolutely out of the question. While maybe she did need to be scolded in some form or fashion for her choices, she wanted to be consoled, and there was probably only one person who wouldn't ridicule her. Someone who would be willing to just be a soundboard, and only offer advice if she asked for it.

Sending a text off to Steven asking him to call her sometime in the morning, she proceeded to get ready for bed. All her remaining energy was spent on brushing her teeth and removing what was left of her makeup from the day.

Pulling the straps of her bra through her sleeves, she pulled it out from under her shirt, discarding it somewhere across the room. Another problem for Sober Cynthia. Crawling into bed, upon closing her eyes the world around her felt like it was slowly spinning. It would be a while before she was finally able to fall asleep.


Sometime in the morning after a quick breakfast accompanied by enough water to drown out her headache, Steven finally called.

After some pleasantries and an inquiry if she was hungover –Only mildly, she had answered– he finally asked, "So, what's wrong?"

She laughed, feeling herself sink into the couch cushion below her. "I'm a terrible actress, that's what's wrong," she simply said.

He hummed on his end. "How so?"

She shrugged, running a hand through her hair, brushing it all away from her face. "I just…Steven, I can't separate the emotions, at least…not when it comes to my character's romantic feelings."

"Ah, I see." There was a slight chuckle. "I thought you couldn't stand Diantha for a while there?"

"Things change." She proceeded to give him as brief of a summary of what all had happened since the last time they spoke, catching him up to the previous night. She left out a few details, if only to save herself some extra embarrassment. "And so, I think I broke up her and Mel. Am I a terrible person?"

He laughed. "Cynthia, if I may be honest, I personally think you did her a service if you actually did have any part in her decision."

She remained silent for a while, trying to process what he said. None of it made her feel any less guilty.

"Also, do remember that she's an adult who can make her own decisions. Even if you did have any weight in it, she is the one who has decided to leave him. You didn't tell her to leave him."

That was at least a little easier to digest. "Doubt the media would see it that way," she said flippantly, to which he laughed.

"The media is still convinced she's secretly dating Siebold, so I mean, would they ever listen to reason?" he asked.

"This is true," she said with a quick laugh.

"Let me ask you this, Cynthia: Where do you want this to go from here? Best case scenario?" he followed up.

She silently thought over her answer. Deep down she knew the answer. She couldn't stop the thoughts even if she wanted to. Even if she didn't fully "voice" them in her mind, she knew what she intended to think.

However, it was equally hard to push down the thoughts of what could go wrong, and how they both could end up hurt from the situation.

"I'm having a hard time sticking to best case scenario. All I can think of is what would go wrong."

He chuckled. "Understandable, but try. For me. This is a complete hypothetical, Cynthia. None of it has to come true. I just think you need to voice what you want to have happen."

"What if it's just a physical attraction?" she asked, if only to avoid the real question at hand.

"Then–" She could imagine him shrugging at her. "–It's just a physical thing, Cynthia. There's nothing wrong with that. She's an attractive woman, and you're basically being paid to kiss her right now. With how long it's been since you were last with anyone, I mean, it's not like I don't understand."

"Rude," she said under her breath. He wasn't wrong, though. "It's only been like…four years." Her voice trailed off, suddenly aware of how long it had been since she had been with anybody physically. Sure, she had been on plenty of casual dates and shared a few chaste kisses now and then, but nothing beyond that. It wasn't something she normally desired so soon with a person.

"My point still stands," he said. "So, just answer my question. Where do you want this to go, best case scenario?"

And so she told him everything, from thoughts she deemed selfish on her end, to simpler desires, to even some of the details from earlier she had left out. At the end of the day, it was Steven she was talking to, and no matter what she said, he was still her best friend and wouldn't judge her at face value.

It was a conversation best left between them.

By the end of it, while no closer to acting on any of her desires, it did at least feel nice to have voiced them…