Not for the first time tonight, Nick envies Mira. The illusion abilities are pretty great, of course, but the real subject of his jealousy is that the officer dismissed her after the first time he relayed his account of the day.
"And then Rowan called you, leading to us being out here now," Nick says, trying his best to keep irritation from his voice. Probably failing, but he tries his best.
"And you seriously expect me to believe you woke up in the woods with no ID due to some psychic back home?" the scruffy officer across from him says, leaning in. His machop leers from a short distance away, trying to look intimidating and failing.
"Believe it or not, one moment I was sleeping off a work day, and the next I was in the woods," he says, nodding. Perhaps not his best lie, but it's close enough to the truth. It is not as if he'd trust the true nature of his kidnapping to some random police officer who has been downright accusing him since he arrived. Even if Alex took him seriously, the report might just make its way back into the hands of whoever took him. No, he fed him the same story he told Rowan earlier, just with all mentions of a conspiracy removed in favour of a random act of psychic.
"Come on now, Mr. Ward, Nick," he says, an undercurrent of annoyance in his voice, "I can't help you unless you help me. This break-in got a lot larger, and the police are going to be looking into this very thoroughly. You need to tell me everything about your involvement with this."
'And there he goes, trying to pressure me into a confession again, but there's a reason we're out here in front of Rowan's house and not in an interrogation room.'
Nick takes a deep breath and puts on his best customer service smile. "I've already told you everything, Officer Alex," he says. "The events of today might be a bit strange, but if I were the criminal behind this, I'd certainly not return to the crime scene and point out what was stolen. Nor would I have shown up with such a strange pokemon and made myself stand out, to begin with."
The officer leans back out, and Nick takes a moment to be thankful Mira isn't here. Despite his lack of involvement, he doubts he could bounce back from his pokemon mauling an officer before he even has his first badge. "I wasn't accusing you of anything, Mr. Ward, unless there is something you'd like to say."
'Oh, bullshit, you aren't. You're just baiting me into a disorderly conduct charge.'
Despite all that, he wants to snap back, damn the consequences. "No, there isn't," he instead replies with a forced smile, "We're going over the same story an awful lot. Would you want me to write it all down so you can review it later at the station? I do have some things to do this evening." Namely, sleep and end this hellishly long day.
"Of course," he echoes back, and Nick almost swears there's a taunting lilt to his voice, "We just have a few more things to go over before I can let you go for the night." Coincidentally, that is the same thing Alex said the last two times they went over this before he was made to start from the beginning. "Now, what time did you say it was when you came across the scene?" And there it is.
"I think that's quite enough," a familiar voice interrupts, and Nick turns to see Rowan, the shining beacon of hope that he is, with Officer Jenny at his side. The two stand in the doorway, and although he can't read anything from Jenny's neutral expression, he can certainly tell that Rowan himself is more than a little miffed.
'I still need to figure out how that Jenny thing works later, now that I think about it.'
"I'm just finishing up with your private investigator, Professor. We'll be done soon," Alex clearly lies, but Nick hears him suck in air when he turns to face the professor.
Rowan frowns, shaking his head. "No. Jenny and I finished up half an hour ago and have been listening in from the window. You can get your hours back at the station rather than treating one of my lab trainers like a criminal."
"Just getting the facts straight, Professor," Alex says, putting on a placating smile.
"No, Alex." The man bristles at not being addressed by his title but says nothing. "If this is how you do your job, you would have talked to the witnesses for more than ten minutes the first time, and maybe Mr. Ward wouldn't have had to get involved," Rowan asserts before turning to face Nick. "Come along now."
He needs no further prompting and walks away from the badgering officer, shielded by Rowan's authority. It all clicks. The jackass got shown up.
Alex sputters, "I-I'm not done yet. Get back here!"
Rowan doesn't even flinch. "This is not a debate," he states, his tone level like he's talking to a disobedient child, "You will leave, and I will speak with your boss tomorrow. Your next actions determine how harsh my language is. Go write your report."
Staring down an immovable wall, Alex recalls his machop. "Have a good night, Professor," he almost spits out.
Rowan ignores him entirely, turning to Officer Jenny. "Have a good night now," he says to her.
"You too, Professor," she returns before shooting Nick an apologetic smile, "And you as well, Mr. Ward."
"Have a good night, Jenny," he says as she walks out, closing the door behind her and leaving the two of them alone in Rowan's home.
"Thanks, Professor," Nick sighs in relief.
Rowan huffs. "Think nothing of it. I won't let some shoddy officer walk all over one of my employees. Now, I have to go to get to sleep. Do you remember where the living room is?" Nick nods as he kicks off his shoes. "Excellent. There's a quilt and a pillow on one of the couches."
"Good night, Professor."
"You too, Mr. Ward," he replies before heading into the back, leaving Nick alone to find his way to the living room. Indeed, a blanket and pillow sit on the couch exactly where promised, with Mira on a loveseat diagonal to it.
'What a day. It felt like it'd never end.'
He settles in and readies himself to sleep, lying on his side under the thick fabric, forced to curl up slightly to compensate for the couch being a tad too short. He closes his eyes.
The next thing Nick knows, it's morning, like time jumped forward between blinks. He yawns, gets out of bed, sans socks for some reason, and glances at the still-sleeping Mira. Next, he heads to the kitchen. Seeing a note on a cupboard that says, "Nick, cereal here," and another that says, "Spoons here," he opts to pour himself a bowl, settling in.
He wordlessly eats breakfast as he scrolls through a book on his Pokedex. The temptation to get right into the nitty gritty of pokemon training is strong, but he decides to stick to getting the minimum viable knowledge for his license, at least for now, and read up on the rest as he goes. It really can't be that hard if ten-year-olds can pass pretty commonly.
Honestly, he is worried about ten-year-olds running around the wilderness full of superpowered animals, but it seems like you need parental permission to get a license and someone above sixteen to accompany you if you're heading out of the city on an excursion. That's mildly better, at least? He's still not too big on it, but he supposes that friendly pokemon likely help manage them.
Another curious change from what he remembers is that certain species of other pokemon require tests or special licenses to train. However, it thankfully lets you acquire them post hoc within a certain period as long as you don't capture anything too murderous. Annoyingly, "Sinnohian Zorua" is on that list for aggression, but given the lack of data on them specifically, the required testing is just some general ghost stuff rather than anything species-specific, followed by reporting to one of several research institutes for a check-in.
He has a feeling that the latter requirement will not be a problem.
"Ah, good morning, Nick," Rowan greets, walking into the kitchen, snacking on a bag of… are those gummy worms?
"Professor," Nick says with a nod, "Thanks again for the bed, the food, and, well, everything."
"Think nothing of it after that shining example of police work yesterday."
He sighs, "Tell it to me straight, Professor; what are the odds of Alex becoming an issue in the long run?"
Rowan shrugs, replying, "Likely not too high. Sandgem Town is a bit of a dead-end posting for police with how quiet it normally is, so I figure he got transferred here to keep him out of the way. If he had any pull, he would have never been transferred here."
"Small mercies," Nick says, grimacing.
'Great, just what I needed—more enemies. If he digs deeper into me and finds nothing, it might raise red flags somewhere, even if he has no personal power.'
Putting away his bag of candy and pouring a bowl of cereal for himself, Rowan comments, "You should be glad you didn't land here about three years back; they're still sweeping up the remnants of Team Galactic."
Nick half-chokes on his cereal. "Excuse me?" he sputters.
'I don't know how I almost forgot about them. Still, a few years back? I wasn't sure where I was in the timeline, given the whole nonsense with the Hisuian pokemon, but that settles it. Rowan's acting like they aren't entirely gone, though. Could Galactic be behind my kidnapping? Perhaps a successor group or some outside force taking their place? I vaguely recall hearing something about an evil plot in one of the later gens about portals to another world, but that definitely wasn't in Sinnoh.'
"Are you still with us, Mr. Ward?"
The question pulls Nick out of his contemplative stupor, snapping back to Rowan. "Oh—yeah, sorry, I'm still waking up," he mumbles, "It just sounded like the land I landed is having issues with some 'Team' that my instincts tell me is dangerous."
Rowan shakes his head. "They're more or less gone now, and the police know the names of all the members. I'd be surprised if there's even a dozen left out there by this point."
Pursing his lips, Nick finds his gaze drifting down to the table as he drifts into thought. Now that he thinks about it, the idea of the faction entangled with the legendaries associated with time and space being responsible for his and Mira's predicament is almost too perfect. Still, their actions never resulted in new pokemon, at least as far as he knows. Realizing that he was letting the silence drag on, Nick adds, "I see. Good," before eating another spoonful of cereal.
'That's another thing to add to my list of leads to investigate, in any case.'
If it keeps growing at this rate, he'd be picking away at it for decades.
The two drift into somewhat companionable silence, silently eating their breakfasts. Nick's thoughts refuse to slow, churning away as he picks at his meal. The professor would have mentioned it if he had heard something about the police having a suspect, so there are likely no updates on that front. Is there something that he's missing? There has to be. He can feel it scratching at the back of his mind, like a half-remembered dream lost in the morning light.
Putting that to the side for now, Nick can no more act on what he doesn't know as he could still the tides. He reads more of the e-book between mouthfuls. So far, the basic requirements for a trainer license seem pretty easy once you get past the wound care guides.
'Perhaps pokemon are just easier to care for than I thought. Given that they're sapient, I bet they can care for themselves for the most part as long as they're given resources and kept happy. Actually, maybe that's why they let teenagers supervise kids in the deep wilderness out here. Perhaps caring for children is a key feature of "starter" pokemon?'
"Say, Nick?"
He jolts from his reverie, eyes snapping back to meet Rowan's. "Yes?"
"Where is Mira, anyhow?"
"She's over on the other couch, still sleeping. To be honest, I'm surprised she's still out," Nick says, glancing back over, "She was asleep earlier than I was—" The loveseat lay bare, Mira nowhere to be seen. "Oh."
Not for the first time this morning, Mira considers whether she let Nick off too easily earlier as she strolls toward the pens. There he was, ripe for harassment as he napped, but she held back, hiding only his socks underneath the couch and an illusion in her place. Such a simple trick with so little power put into it will likely fade soon enough, but it buys her time without anybody breathing down her neck.
Nick deserves a light morning after yesterday's display, she feels. Watching him poke and prod at a mystery was almost mesmerizing, in a way. But other than a tiny contribution as a translator—a service that could have been fulfilled by any marginally creative pokemon—she was a dead weight during that whole investigation; she could have even easily set them off on the wrong path with that glove! Even from that small demonstration, it is clear that the skills she needs to track down their foes are lacking, and she can't solely rely on Nick's abilities. She needs practice, and stealthily interviewing some pokemon seems like a decent place to start, absent another mystery to pry at.
The act of investigating reminds Mira of her parents, both sets, teaching her siblings how to weave and best apply an illusion, like when her older siblings got their illusions systematically picked apart. She supposes they have much in common, getting away with a crime and an illusion, that is.
It all came back to the same four principles, after all. First, never let them know you were there until you're long gone. If you can't do that, ensure they don't see you. If they see you, make sure nobody who saw you is left. If that fails, make sure they don't catch you.
Admittedly, rule three is an addition by her second set of parents, but if her first had followed it, they would have never been forced to flee to the frozen wastes in the first place. Rage flashes through her, and a rictus snarl twists onto her face. Claws dig into the soft ground, and she hisses before forcing herself to take a few deep breaths, forcing that anger deep down inside.
There would be a time for that later when she was alone with her kidnappers in a warm room. After all, when you're skinning someone, you don't want hypothermia to set in too quickly. The thought of her as a zoroark with claws stained crimson, standing atop a pile of broken husks, brings a smile to her face and a warm, anticipatory joy. She licks her lips, a phantom taste dancing across her palate, an echo of when one of her ex-captors was foolish enough to assume she was asleep rather than make sure. She hopes he lost that finger.
Her mood now significantly improved, she peers around the corner, eyeing up all the vast enclosures. Thankfully, most pokemon are still asleep at this early hour. They're outside, exposed, but safe. A curious idea. Do the cherubi feel secure enough in their numbers that a lone golbat or the like swooping down to carry one off to devour didn't register as a possibility? She certainly could carry one away if she was so inclined. It'd be kit's play to take the form of one of the professor's pokemon, remove one while the rest still slept, claiming they were needed inside if pressed, circle around the building so they can't see, keep walking until she hit the tree line, and then feast on them in the depths of the woods. Maybe she could even return under the guise of a non-predatory pokemon to watch the chaos and accusations fly, feed on the terror, had they not already known that a zorua is in the area.
Not that she would. A warm den and help are far more valuable to her right now than a quick and easy meal, and she'd be hard-pressed to find either out in the wild. Instead, she retreats and weaves shadows around herself until, in her place, the visage of a bidoof materializes. It's time to learn a bit more about "civilized" pokemon.
She doesn't go right for her targets, which would be suspicious despite her unimposing disguise. Picking out the ones who saw the break-in on the first try despite not being there would be quite a feat for such a "simple-minded" creature. Really, bidoof can be rather intelligent; they merely tend to be single-minded. She supposes that such is the way for creatures that need to spend hours chewing on logs and rocks to blunt their teeth. It's not her fault if the assumptions of others give her the perfect facade of harmlessness, though.
Instead, she goes for the closest pen with awake pokemon, which holds a few wormadam and mothim, hanging from and lounging in a tree and basking in the early morning sun. The side she approaches from is the one closest to town, in service of making this next bit of trickery easier to swallow. Plus, she knows they'll likely be getting ready to sleep; someone who just wants you out of their mane tends to be more cooperative than you might expect.
"Well, morning there!" she whisper-shouts, carefully eyeing the paddocks to either side like she's worried about waking their occupants. She isn't. Rock and ground types are notoriously heavy sleepers, after all. Not that a "simple" bidoof would likely know that. "I came from town and wanted to check up on you folks. I heard there was a mess here yesterday, yup yup!"
The pokemon in the paddock look at one another before one of the mothim sighs and glides down, landing on one of the fence posts. "Don't worry yourself, everyone is okay. I heard there was a break-in, but it probably wasn't too serious since it wasn't swarming with cops like that one time," the moth explains, rapid and clipped. She gets the impression he is already tired of conversing with her. She fights down the urge to grab and smash him into the ground, reminding herself that she chose this disguise for a reason.
Mira tilts her head, pretending not to notice this mention of an ever-so-tasty other time, but she has her objectives. There is no need to risk running him out of patience before she gets her answers. "Oh, sorry! I'm Bidoof. I've been plenty rude, barging in and trying to ask you folks about stuff without introducing myself, yup yup," she says, frowning, "Sorry."
The mothim huffs, wings fluttering once. "It's alright. I suppose you're just making sure everyone is well."
"Oh! Golly, thanks for forgiving me! I do have another question, though," she says, fidgeting like she fears he'll say no. Her read of him isn't perfect, but given she hasn't taken up much of his time yet, she wagers he is far more likely to answer and sate her curiosity to make her leave.
The moth looks back to his nice, cozy perch amongst the tree branches before looking back to her. "Very well, what is it?"
Her facade warps into an expression of insecure confusion, like a kit leaving the den for the first time, her illusion's eyes looking down to the ground. Of course, Mira keeps her gaze locked on her target, absorbing every bit of his body language.
"You see, I was captured recently," she begins, trailing off, pausing like she lost what she would say. The terminology is strange. 'Captured' makes it feel like they had no choice then and that they have no choice now. No, many of these pokemon could leave at any time in a way no human could hope to track. Mira doubts that the recalling function on these Pokeballs works at infinite distances or through enough solid objects. Water types could take to the water, many others to the air, and the rest could quickly disappear into the woods or the underground. Indeed, she could easily walk off now if her goals were not aligned with Nick's.
That is probably a long enough silence to make him think she was internally warring about whether she should say something. The glint in his eyes tells her she has his attention, at least. "My trainer keeps asking me if I need anything else, but I'm from way, way deep in the woods, you know?" She says, pausing to look at him like he might, in fact, know. "How am I supposed to know what I'd want from a human? I have a warm bed, a couple meals daily that I hardly have to work for, and safety, which is more than what I got out yonder. The only thing is I feel a bit in a rut since I don't feel like I get much choice in things anymore, yup yup. I get meals, but I don't get my choice in my meals, you know? I don't want to seem ungrateful."
The question was carefully crafted and multifaceted in nature. It was actually a few questions. It meandered. It changed points halfway through. It was perfect for studying his reaction.
The bug's expression remains solid, staring down at her before changing into… smugness? It is the same look that an elder had when asked a question by someone still too young to know the obvious, a chance given to them to be the wise old master.
"Oh, is that it?" he asks aloofly, "It's just the new capture jitters. The stress from no longer having to make those choices daily is working its way out of you. Of course, I encourage you to try to communicate with your trainer if you're unhappy with something, but you'll settle in. Give it time."
Mira recoils, the frozen expression on her illusion betraying no sign of turmoil. There was no hesitation where he thought about his answer. No sign in his voice that he might be joking with her. No, that is sincere advice. He is willing to entirely toss his fate in the hands of another, dragged along the current like a passive observer of his own life.
A quick glance at the tree reveals that the other inhabitants of his pen likely feel the same way. Those who aren't obviously listening make little effort to hide such, and none of them look particularly conflicted or upset at that last sentence. Horror sweeps through her. Is this common to most civilized pokemon?
She understands that the apparent surety of these places leaves less to strive for, with no need to maintain territory or resources, but is that it? Do all 'civilized' pokemon become little more than an extension of their leader's will, content with their purpose and striving for little beyond it if they don't leave first? Is it inevitable?
No. It can't be. Mira once saw a machamp paint while a trainer set up camp. Whatever purpose the human had for him, she guarantees that was not it. Perhaps capture changes the ones that don't have any ultimate ambition beyond survival in the first place.
She looks the mothim in front of her up and down. Mira could see him going from a hard life in the darkened woods, stressing about every flying type that whipped overhead, to the safety of humanity and it changing him. Still, she would ruminate later and ask around elsewhere so she has information to compare it to.
Shaking her head to dispel that nameless dread, she says, "Gee, thanks! It's good to know it's just normal." Her illusion casts a glance across the lot. "Say, do you happen to know if any folk saw it happen? I'd like to give them my support, too."
Despite his advice, she knows the mothim is likely eager to have her gone, and she provided him with an easy way out. He inclines his head towards the mareep pen, pointing a wing for good measure. "That's them over there. Now, have a good rest of the day, Bidoof. If you'll stop by again, perhaps do it in the evening when I'm not getting ready to sleep? My species is nocturnal."
"Oh, sorry! I'm such an idiot sometimes; I had no idea," she says, stepping back as if struck. "I'll leave you fine folks to sleep now."
The mothim doesn't bother saying goodbye and instead takes off into the air, wordlessly heading back towards the tree. Maybe under other circumstances, Mira would be tempted to mess with the moth, but her illusion inside won't last forever, and she wants to be done before they start searching for her. Perhaps she should return later to torment him for being rude, though. Paying the rude bug no more mind, she heads off to the mareep pen instead.
Thankfully, they are already awake, as she expected they would be. Electric types tend to sleep little, and Mira is happy to learn that these are not exceptions.
Walking up to the paddock, she puts on a bashful act, leaning around a post, looking at the inhabitants with a curious flick of her ears, like she expects to not be spotted. After her chastisement for keeping the mothim awake, she adds a little concern to her act, leaning more into the good-natured aspect. If done right, there should be no question that she just came here as a concerned pokemon, new to the area, who learned that something harrowing happened and merely wanted to check on everybody.
She waits until a mareep turns to her and nervously meets its gaze, saying nothing, silence stretching between them. Another set of eyes turns to her, then another, and soon enough, she has the attention of a good chunk of the herd and, most importantly, the flaaffy from last night, the one who pointed out the shadow she saw inside.
Mira steps out from her ineffective cover, faux nervousness in her stance. "Uh, morning, folks! You aren't nocturnal, right?" she asks, clearly enunciating each part of nocturnal as if the term is unfamiliar. At the confused shake of a few heads, she continues. "I heard about what happened earlier and talking to that fine fellow over there," she says, pointing over to the grouchy mothim, "I heard you fine folks had a problem here last night, and I just came by to check in on everyone, yup yup."
As expected, the flaaffy from last night perks up, breaking away from the herd and strutting over. "Oh! Everyone is fine, thanks to the fine work of that detective and his pokemon," she beams, "With a little help from me, of course."
"Golly, that's good to hear!" she exclaims, admiration written across the face of her illusion. " Whatever happened must have been awfully scary." She carefully exposes her "ignorance." If this was someone trying to keep something hidden, such would not be the best move. However, if her reading of the flaaffy's character is correct, she is still riding high on spotting something nobody else did, and if proud people do one thing, it's bragging.
"It was," the flaaffy says, nodding, "But we pulled through." At that, she launches into a long spiel, regurgitating the same events from last night. Mira carefully notes each event and matches it with her understanding of things. Unfortunately, most of it is positively irrelevant daily life nonsense.
"And then I went with my good friend, Mareep, to visit Torterra to check on him after he bribed Skuntank for some of her food; Arceus knows why…"
"Do you think I was too harsh on Golbat, Bidoof?"
"And then little miss perfect came running over, shouting about her fur."
"Of course, I told him only if Onix fly!"
"You should have heard them shout after she found out that he lost the rock, but you and I both know that Cherrim took it."
"Should I lose weight?"
"And about five minutes after I saw the shadow in the window, I heard the scream, and then I heard some running from upstairs a few minutes later, and a bit after that, the police showed up!" she finally, mercifully, finishes her retelling of the day. Even to her untrained ear, though, something is obviously off.
"You said that you heard Yuzo come down from upstairs a bit after the scream?" she asks. Strange. She doesn't know exactly what it means, but something isn't adding up, assuming this pokemon isn't merely mistaken.
"That's right, but how do you know Yuzo? I didn't mention anything about him," Flaaffy responds, and although there's no obvious suspicion in her voice, Mira can't help but curse internally. That was a sloppy mistake, and she should be ashamed. She supposes she got too focused on peeling away mysteries to keep her own lies straight.
"Oh, I talked with one of the police growlithe this morning. That's how I heard about this, yup yup," Miraa beams, falling back on a pre-prepared lie for if someone questioned how this mysterious outsider knows about the break-in. "Couldn't tell you which one, though, I forgot to ask about them. Mighty rude of me."
Oh! Well, I ought to get back to everyone else now. Thanks for checking in on us; that's awfully sweet of you!" The flaaffy gestures with her head back towards the rest of the herd, which still passively observes their conversation, many ears turned in their direction even if many of them have their own idle discussions.
"Have a nice day now, you hear?" Mira says, turning to leave.
"Oh, one last thing," the flaaffy says, Mira freezing in place as worry about being discovered seizes her, "I don't think I've seen you around before. Where in town do you live?"
"Oh, I'm actually just in town overnight with my trainer," she lies, "I, uh, don't know the exact street number we're staying at. I can get back just fine, though!" This lie is simple in its concept: by giving her next to no actionable information, she can prove nothing false. Coming up with a detailed lie is a fool's tactic when it isn't necessary; the less actionable information your target has, the less they can pull at. Let her fill in the blanks, thinking about where she could be from.
"Oh! Make sure to stop by if you're in the area again!" the pink pokemon says as Mira walks away, back towards town.
"I will!" Perhaps if they had more relevant information to acquire, at least.
Now, to tell Nick. Here's hoping she's figured out the whole human speech thing by now. The last time didn't go so well.
Nick jolts, nearly banging his head on the underside of the couch, as Mira leaps gracefully through the window, which he could have sworn was closed a minute ago. "Oh, there you are!" he says, relief flooding him.
'Right, given that she came from outside, she probably wasn't in the lab since that'll all still be locked down, and given the lack of noise, she probably wasn't messing with the pokemon around back too much. That's a relief. I wasn't looking forward to being on the hook for a multi-thousand-dollar bill or on the end of a multi-ton pokemon charge.'
"So, an illusionary you, huh?" he says, narrowing his eyes at Mira, who sits beside him and lifts a paw to groom. "Right. Did you get into trouble while you were out?"
Annoyance flashes across her face as her muzzle scrunches, but it feels more like she's offended that he thinks that she'd get caught than anything else. "Zor," she says, determination clear in her eyes. Her faux-flames light with a dull red glow, waving quietly in an invisible wind, shadows surrounding her… and he's looking at a copy of himself.
Nick feels the bottom of his stomach drop out. "Please don't tell me you went out disguised as me and did things," he begs, already able to see the jail cell in his mind's eye.
Mira tilts her head, and Nick can't get over how creepy this is. She opens her mouth to speak, and- "Aye and non-right I so," she says, staring deep into his eyes and bearing a smug look, like what she said made any sense.
"What," he flatly responds.
Annoyance flashes across his- her face. "Docyak is coo in yours me xav," she slowly speaks, like an impatient tutor to a child who has failed to catch on to what two plus two is for the fifth time in a row. "Door trip pan est zoo to mar check, she zooms yurt pop too."
Is this what listening to English as a non-English speaker is like? Sure, he knows what most of those words mean, but they have no meaning when put together like that. He sinks deep into silence, trying to dredge forth all the codebreaking techniques he remembers from playing a mass of ARGs to try and pry meaning from whatever she's saying. After an uncomfortably long silence of staring into an annoyed mirror, he comes up with nothing. "Yeah, sorry, I can't understand you," he finally admits.
'I guess this is why she doesn't just talk to people. I guess that'd make my job too easy. Still, she understands me just fine. Is there some limitation on how her illusions work or how pokemon interpret information? Can it be worked past, perhaps?'
The disguised zorua looks up to the ceiling and throws her hands up in a surprisingly human gesture of frustration, her illusion fading into nothingness and leaving her natural self in its place.
A flash of inspiration crosses her face, and she takes the form of Yuzo, typing away at an illusionary keyboard in front of her. However, when he looks closely, the letters on it aren't any that he recognizes. Perhaps a bit slow to process it, he sits up straight. "Are you saying what I think you are?" he asks, deadly serious.
Nodding, Mira takes the form of Roseanne and lies across the floor. Then, she creates the illusion of a ticking clock and returns to Yuzo's form after a delay, jumping up from where she's standing and pretending to rush away. It takes Nick a few seconds to parse it, but…
"Yuzo waited for a while after Roseanne fell to 'rush' downstairs, huh?" he says, and she nods. She must have been interviewing the pokemon outside.
It isn't damning on its own, especially with no hard evidence, given cameras didn't catch when Roseanne fell. Sure, he might not have heard her shout clearly and only decided later that the sound was a scream. He might even just be a coward.
"Good work," he praises, a smile creeping onto both their faces.
But something feels like it stinks, and he has just the way to prove it.
"Hey, professor?" he calls, getting back up and walking back into the kitchen. Sitting there quietly, Rowan drinks his morning coffee and reads the news.
"Ah, I see you found Mira. Good work. I take it she wasn't far?" he says, glancing up from his paper before stopping upon seeing that confident smile. "I know that look, Mr. Ward. Did you figure something else out?"
"Maybe. Do you mind coming with me to Lab Four, Professor?" he asks.
Rowan sighs, putting the newspaper to the side before standing. "Very well, come along now," he says, walking to the door and leading the trio through the lab half of the building and up a set of wide stairs.
Nick struts over to the older computer attached to the machine Yuzo was working on and boots it. A single glance at Rowan is all it takes for the professor to come over and unlock it. A few clicks are all it takes to open the event log viewer, and he sees that the machine was last booted yesterday at 4:22 PM, three minutes before the egg incubator downstairs was disconnected, despite Yuzo working up here for quite some time in the footage.
'Gotcha. I think Mr. Yuzo has some explaining to do.'