Sing Hallelujah Because You Can't Change Anything

"A buzzing sound?" Matori said, confused. She was simply out in the halls that night to find a bit of cake to help her sleep… and didn’t expect to run into this. "I haven’t heard anything," she said, figuring it was best to humor her, because why not. "Where did you hear it coming from?"

What? No, Valerie could not have imagined it. The buzzing couldn't have been generated in her head. The buzzing had been loud and clear... and if she had imagined it, why had she gotten up to investigate?

Oh well. It was best not to jump to conclusions right at this minute.

"Listen carefully." Valerie waited a minute, hoping that she would be able to hear the buzzing once again.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

"This way," Valerie walked through the halls, almost like a ghost walking through mist. She stopped at one section of the hall that appeared to be completely empty. And yet, this is where the buzzing was the strongest.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

"I think it should be somewhere around here..."

Siebold had only wandered away from the kitchens for a moment. A few minutes was all that was needed for a disaster to unfold— that much he was quick to discover upon his return. With the door left ajar and the delicious scent of freshly baked Macarons to fill the hall he could only guess what he was about to walk in on as he drew closer. 

"I told him to keep watch, why on earth..," a displeased grunt drew over his mutterings as gloved fingers pushed at the cool metal frame of the door to push it open further. He was ready to catch a Grunt in the act of helping themselves to something that was not theirs and to find Barbaracle joining in with them. 

But that wasn’t what he came to find as he stepped in, hands already balling into fists as nothing short of a cold scowl formed along his features, ready to deliver harsh words the moment he saw them there. Yet all that died quickly enough, a few words already rolling off his tongue to gather their attention when he noticed something amiss with it all. A girl stood before the cooling pan of sweets, her long black hair striking such a strong resemblance to the one person he both wanted to see and never see again. That was all it took to take his breath away, to let words seize up in his throat and fall into a sudden and uneasy silence. 

It can’t be…

That unease quickly took precedence over any frustrations, quelling it in an instance as a sense of dread churned in his stomach and helplessness drowned out the usual calm in his blue eyes. It was a nightmare and a dream come true, and there was nothing he could do to stop it from unfolding into reality. How many times had he been met with running into her here in the recesses of dreams? The location unclear, the task at hand hardly memorable, but her? How could he forget her when he woke with a start, clammy with sweat and the same feeling that threatened to express itself before he could collect it and repress it. Somehow he managed before she could turn around and see it.

The door opened and closed. She could hear it without looking at who it was. Ah, I was just looking! You have a wonderful array of macrons here! No, I have not eaten any! Not one nibble! The words could only form into her mind, because when she looked to see who it had been, she was almost speechless.

"Siebold?"

The thought of eating delicious macrons left her mind instantly. Valerie's brain must have stopped functioning for a moment, because she had trouble registering what was before her eyes. What was this? Was this an illusion? Was this real life? The furisode girl blinked a few times, and pinched herself to confirm that yes, he was right here.

Her first reaction was puzzlement. Why was Siebold at Team Rocket? This... this is where he had gone? When he left the Elite Four, when he left the restaurant Le Yeah... This is where he'd gone? Team Rocket? But why? What did he have to gain from being at a criminal organization? And did he want to be here? Why was he a chef for Team Rocket? Why was he a chef for Team Rocket?

Her second reaction was happiness. She ran to Siebold, ran as fast as she could to the chef. She hung her arms over his shoulders and held him tight to him. Oh, how long it had been since she had last seen him? When was the last time she had a delicious meal with Grant, with him serving the food? How long had it been since she had seen his shining blue eyes as he cooked up something perfect for them?

And then she was hugging him. Needless to say, Proton felt about as awkward as possible in that particular moment.

He really wasn’t a very touchy person to begin with, all things considered. There were some notable exceptions to the rule, of course, but more often than not, the Executive didn’t touch people, and other people didn’t touch him out of fear of losing their limbs. And he was completely fine with that. Now, however, there was a crying person using him as a human pillow, and quite frankly Proton wasn’t sure how to react to the whole thing. His first instinct was to slink away, of course, but presumably that wouldn’t have done much to help the situation, and he was by no means a coward. So what would have, say… Ariana done in a similar situation? Or Blaise or Shauna? Someone who wasn’t allergic to feelings, anyways. He was pretty sure even Archer would have fared better when confronted with the same problem, and that was actually kind of disheartening.

Why was she scared? She did not know if she could tell Proton that. He was a high ranking member of Team Rocket, and most likely loyal to the death. If she showed any doubt of of her loyalty to Team Rocket, she was afraid he would... he might... be the end of her... unless, she could somehow make herself sound more confused than she already was.

She cried for a few more minutes, before able to form coherent words. "I feel weak. I feel as if I will not be able to make a good Team Rocket member.... There are so many tough people here... And I feel insufficient I wish I could be as good as them..." She paused to break apart from Proton. "And I am a criminal now... The friends I once had will hate me for my reputation. I used to be a good person... and now I am not."

How many milligrams of Clozapine does it take to flush the crazy out of someone’s system?

Roark knows he probably shouldn’t be pondering that in this situation, but he thinks maybe everybody could use a dose of it to keep their own inner insanity at bay, like this guy.

He’s decked out in a tank top and daisy dukes, arms folded as the man pins him to the wall. He’s got a flower pinned to his elaborately-coiffed hair, and to anyone witnessing the two the situation’s obvious.

The twink of all twinks is a rent boy, and the man blowing rings of smoke in his face is very, very pissed off at him.

Valerie could not tell whether she was scared or confused.

"I saw not a thing," she repeated unsurely. She scanned the man over and as she did, she tilted her head. She did not think she had seen him in such attire before... not that she was to judge. She had seen much, much stranger in her modeling career.

If Korrina were a Pokemon, she’d probably be called “Skate.” As usual, she zooms through the relatively empty halls, 110% energy and with stamina to keep going for hours.

"Race me, Lucario!" she giggles. Lucario stops chewing at his arm long enough to hear her request, and he gets up, bounding after her, panting and scrambling as fast as his two legs can carry him.

Normally, they take only a certain path through the halls to race, but tonight Korrina decides to play a trick on Lucario. A few feet ahead of him, she suddenly sharply turns and heads down a hall she’s never been down before.

"I bet you weren’t expecting that—!" she giggles, but her smile is wiped away as soon as she hears what sound like tears coming from an ajar door nearby. Disengaging her Heelies (she totally wears Heelies), she takes a peek, absolutely surprised to find Valerie there, crying her eyes out.

Valerie started packing the fabric away, and crawls pathetically onto the bed. She knows that Korrina is still there. She just does not know how to respond to her presence. She is not even sure if she should respond...