Burgundy wished she could say she smiled when she received her B-class certification. Or screamed. Or danced around the Pokémon Center room. Or hugged Georgia. Or hugged her Pokémon. She would even take crying.
Instead, Georgia was the one smiling to the point where her cheeks hurt. Georgia was the one who punched her fist upwards in victory. Georgia was the one to suggest going out to dinner in celebration. Georgia was the one who was happy, as much as she snarked about how it was about time Burgundy made the cut.
Burgundy allowed her friend to make the arrangements, figuring that the news just needed time to sink in. She'd made it to B-class.
"Aren't you happy?" Georgia posed the question in a perfectly innocent tone over their celebratory dinner, but Burgundy froze. Four years of hard work had finally paid off, culminating in the certificate still lying on her bedside table in their shared room, yet she could hardly muster up a smile in response.
Maybe the years of stagnation still weighed heavily on her mind. Maybe she just hated the fact that Cilan had been right, that, in the end, he was responsible for her making it to B-class. That prospect certainly churned in her gut. Regardless, she couldn't continue attribute her lack of enthusiasm towards her accomplishment to shock.
"Aren't you?" Georgia prompted impatiently at Burgundy's lack of an answer. "You're not having another crisis, are you?" She jabbed her fork in Burgundy's direction.
"Ridicule!" Burgundy snorted—a gesture she hadn't allowed herself in years as part of an attempt at seeming more refined. "Of course I'm not having—" She cut herself short, deciding that her response was perhaps too vehement. Georgia rested her chin in her hands, smirking. "If anything, you're too happy."
"But why wouldn't I be happy?" Georgia asked innocently. "You've taken a big step forward. Maybe now you can actually think about getting to S-class."
"Just get to the point." Georgia crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.
"Look, if you're not happy, then get out," she said simply. "That's what I say." Burgundy gawked.
"You're the one who pushed me to keep going in the first place." Georgia shrugged.
"Yeah, well, if it's gonna make you hate yourself, then I change my mind." Burgundy opened her mouth to protest—being a connaisseuse did not make her hate herself—but Georgia cut her off. "Take a break. If you want to come back, then you can get back in." Burgundy eyed her friend warily. "Go back and get your revenge on that beanpole, or something. Isn't that long overdue anyway?" Georgia snorted. "If you even still care about that. Arceus, I don't even know what your deal with him was."
"That crétin ruined my life," Burgundy replied tersely. But even she had to admit that—as much as she cited his first lecture as the spark of her hatred, her hostility had less and less to do with the words spoken years ago out of casual, and perhaps unintentional, arrogance.