For the next several weeks Harry kept a close eye on the Chespin, not quite sure what to make of the Pokémon. The things he had witnessed and strange behavior from the small Grass-type had left him befuddled, but he supposed that he may have simply been grasping at straws.

He was logical, he knew it made absolutely no sense for a Pokémon, a Chespin especially to have any sort of relation to the case. Yet, the way that the Chespin had brought him the vial of Beedrill poison, a major piece of evidence, the way it had led him into the secret room, opening up a whole different side to the case and above all else the way it had looked him in the eyes, knowing, certain and ultimately managing to convince him that the butler had in fact not had anything to do with the murder.

Sighing, he tossed the Chespin another piece of popcorn, who quickly gobbled it up. Salting the popcorn, Harry thought again to the odd case. He definitely had a lot more to work with than before, nothing yet solid enough to satiate the hunger of the press, but enough evidence to lead him into something greater. All he needed was more time. More time to connect the dots and unearth every last bit of information related to the victims, no matter how deep, personal, or obscure.

He walked into the living room, Chespin following closely by his feet, and sat down on the couch, putting the popcorn down. Harry extended and arm to help the small Pokémon up, who happily hopped up, settling down besides him.

Movie night. It had become a sort of mini tradition between the two after Harry had found the Chespin poking around the TV curiously. As soon as he had switched it on, curious eyes lit up brightly, staring in awe at the moving colors on the screen. That had been strange to Harry, it's reaction. The look of disbelief on it's face had been enough to tell him that it wasn't very well attuned to technology, everyday human technology at least, that was enough to draw the conclusion that it must have come from somewhere rural, somewhere far out from the city. And if that really was the case he had no idea how there was to be any hope in finding it's owner.

He had looked down, as the Chespin continued to stare at the moving DVD box logo on the screen. With a little bit of thought he had dug through his collection and put on a copy of David Fincher's classic: 'Zodiac'. Eventually they had both made their way over to the couch and seated themselves, both watching the movie on the edge of their seats. And from then things had really taken off.

Every Friday was the night they had chosen, burning through the classics together: Vertigo, The Long Goodbye, The Godfather Parts One and Two and many more. That night they were trying a comedy.

It had somehow only dawned on Harry that night, that they had never had popcorn and so he'd quickly cooked some up, glad to see that the Chespin had quite an appetite for the many kernels in the bowl.

He had been just about to press the play button when his phone rang. He looked down to see that it was Tim calling him. Not willing to miss the call he answered quickly, much to his furry friend's annoyance.

"Tim. Hi," he greeted enthusiastically, trying to ignore the Chespin's growls of complaints.

"Hey Dad, I just wanted to check in. Everything alright over there?"

"Oh yeah, everything's great. Your room is all ready, the bed got here just yesterday."

"Awesome, wish I could get home sooner, but all this insurance stuff is really time consuming."

"Yeah? Well it'll all sort itself out eventually, you just take your time, your room's not going anywhere, anytime so-"

Harry winced in pain, looking down he saw the Chespin, quills flexed and poking slightly against his leg.

"Ow, I'll start it in a minute, relax, will ya?" he spoke in a hushed whisper.

Tim cleared his throat through the phone, "Uh, Dad, I didn't get you at a bad time did I?"

"What? N-no kid," he tried to reassure while rubbing his leg. "Just...uhm, Pikachu's not giving you any trouble is he?"

"Nah, he's an angel...a little yellow angel that occasionally shocks people when he's feeling a little sad."

"Pika-pika."

He heard the faint remark from Pikachu.

"Miss you too buddy, but try to keep yourself under control, alright?"

"Pikachuuu!"

"Anyways, I gotta run, this paperwork isn't gonna fill itself out."

"I hear you kid, see you soon, alright?"

"Yup. Bye Dad."

Harry put his phone down, glaring at the Chespin, but not being able to bring himself to be truly angry.

"Chespin," it sounded only slightly apologetic.

Having nothing to say, Harry picked up the remote and pressed play, but really only payed attention during the opening credits, largely zoning out after that.

"A man goes into a restaurant. He sits down, he's havin' a bowl of soup. He says to the waiter, 'Waiter, come taste the soup.'

*Waiter says, 'Is there something wrong with the soup?'*

*He says, 'Taste the soup.'*

*Waiter says, 'Is there something wrong with the soup? Is the soup too hot?'*

*The man says, 'Will you taste the soup?'*

*'What's wrong? Is the soup too cold?'*

*'Will you just taste the soup?'*

*'All right, I'll taste the soup. Where's the spoon?'*

*'Ah-ha!'"*

The Chespin laughed at that, kicking it's paws up into the air and repeating the joke to itself.

Harry meanwhile, barely caught onto it. Head spinning once more with the thoughts of his strange case. He thought briefly of attempting to find a few of his old contacts. They were the only ones who would know of something like Pokémon trafficking, but the odds of them actually saying much were fairly slim. Still, it wouldn't hurt to try, all he needed was to get the green light from Yoshida.

*'Freeze you diseased rhinoceros pizzle!'*

The Chespin laughed once more.

"Harry, you know I can't allow that, we're under enough scrutiny as it is. The last thing I need is for it to come out that one of our lead detectives is working with anyone even remotely shady and these people of yours', they're more than just remotely shady."

So it was going to be like this.

That he had been flat out denied didn't surprise Harry. He knew that Yoshida wasn't the type to allow stuff like that, in trying times more than ever. However, he also knew that Yoshida was a strategic person and a good negotiation would be more than enough to sway the Lieutenant's usually strict decisions.

"Alright Lieutenant Yoshida, Yoshi? Can I call you Yoshi?"

"Harry..." the man muttered.

"Here me out here Yoshi. There's been a full spree of murders, the press is right up to our necks and people are getting worried. What they really need is something to ease their nerves, something to let them know that we're working on it. Problem is that right now, I don't have that something, all I have are loose pieces of evidence and assumptions. That something, it's on people's lips, I just need a chance to draw it out," he held a deceptively pleading look in his eyes. "So what do you say Yoshi?"

"I say you call me that one more time and you're fired."

"Fair enough, so..."

"Harry, you know you're the best this department has ever seen. Basically everyone knows you and everyone respects you. I trust you and all, but are you certain," Yoshida paused, pondering his words. "Are you certain that this is the best way of going about things?"

Harry allowed himself a small smirk of triumph, "You know I've always been unorthodox and-"

"Forget about your methods, this is a decision you have to make. Are you certain that there is no better way?"

"Absolutely."

Yoshida nodded, acceptance and disappointment all over his face at once, "Very well. You know how this thing goes, you get caught doing anything, or anything at all comes out, the department had nothing to do with it and we never had this conversation."

"Aye-aye captain," he joked while beginning to leave the office.

"That's Lieutenant to you Detective Goodman," Yoshida gave him a small look of confidence. "Good luck Harry."

He couldn't help, but walk with a bit of swagger on his way back to his office. Greeting every officer, or secretary that he passed. They greet him back with just as much enthusiasm, not finding it strange at all that their 'Star Detective' was so positive, even as they were practically wrapped in a crisis.

His own office door swung open easily and he immediately made for his desk, taking a seat and shifting various old documents, Pokémon cards and a framed photograph out of the way, so that he had a clear space to work with in the middle. Putting paper to wood and pen to paper, he quickly jotted down as many names as he could remember, as well as the methods for contacting each. Some were natural, a simple call. Others were much more complex, requiring more work.

"Chespin?"

"Yup, he said yes alright," Harry spoke without looking down at the Chespin who he assumed was still at least somewhat asleep in a corner beneath his desk.

"Amanda."

"Jackie."

"Johnny."

"Sebastian..."

The number of names on the list grew steadily as more and more came to mind. Soon enough the paper was covered back to front.

"You alright down there?" he bent down to ensure that the Pokémon was still fine. Bringing it to work with him wasn't entirely preferable seeing as there wasn't much it could do, but at that point there seemed no better option and by then the Chespin had very much warmed up to spending it's days under Harry's desk, occasionally exploring when it got bored.

"Chespin," it answered him shortly before yawning, standing and climbing up his arm. It stood on the desk and looked down at the paper, an expression of scrutiny on it's face.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, while seeming amused. "Not enough to go off of Detective Chespin?"

It didn't say anything in return, only furrowing it's brow as it's eyes scanned over each and every name written down.

Harry spent some time looking over the names with him, before eventually glancing at his wristwatch and realizing how late it was, "Well I don't know about you buddy, but now seems like a pretty good time to get home." With the Chespin's eyes still locked onto the sheet of paper, Harry went ahead and began closing up, putting things in their place and fetching his coat, "You ready to go yet?"

"Chespin."

He gently rubbed the top of it's head, before allowing it to climb his shoulder. They left the office together and after a few farewells they left the station.

It was plain to see the looks that most everyone gave Harry. When he'd first walked in with the Chespin weeks prior, no one had batted an eye, simply assuming that he had found himself a new Pokémon partner. As time passed however and they'd learned that the Chespin was in fact not his, they began questioning whether he had any intent of finding it's actual owner. He'd defended himself of course, pointing out that not only was he neck deep into the most controversial case in Ryme City history, but would also likely need to travel far if he were to have any chance. Still, even these perfectly reasonable points couldn't hide the unconvincing tone in his voice.

He still tried to reason that their situation was only temporary, but none were all that assured. And frankly, even he was having a hard time believing himself.

What had started as simple appreciation for a mediocre, but well intended mug of coffee had slowly evolved into an obvious fondness for the small Pokémon. He was reveling in the fact that he no longer had to be alone. More and more, he began to look forward to getting off of work, look forward to their movie nights. It always brought a smile to his face when he was able to show the Chespin something new, like how to make a decent cup of coffee.

"Chespin?" the small, all too familiar voice asked with concern.

Harry looked down as the leg of his pants was being tugged against and then back up again.

They were back at his apartment. All the way from the station up until the drive home, he had been doing nothing, but going through the motions of life. It was eerie how far his mind had drifted.

"I'm fine," he tried reassuring the Chespin. "Just tired, don't worry about it."

He turned the key and opened the door and they both walked in. He turned to close it when someone called out from behind him.

"Mr. Goodman."

Harry spun, having no time to react to the man, or the gun in his hand.

"Mr. Giovanni sends his regards."