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So Dawn finds herself in some big city in Unova— Castelia, was it? With only four of the five required ribbons in order to enter the Grande Festival. At first, she’s fascinated by the big city; it puts even Jubilife to shame. However, the bluenette decides that she doesn’t have time to sight see; she needs to check in at the Contest Hall.

As the clock draws closer to showtime, Dawn becomes increasingly worried— is Barry really going to come? It wouldn’t exactly surprise her if he didn’t show up, the blond was never too much into contests. Distracted by her thoughts, she almost doesn’t hear him. Eventually, she realizes that a loud, all-too familiar voice is calling out to her.

“Out of the way, out of the way! Dawn! Dawn! Hey!”

It doesn't look too bad, but it's just sort of weird. Actually, weird is a euphemism; quite blatantly, Barry thinks it's boring. Dawn has a lot more color to her personality than she likes people to think nowadays, and it's both a combination of a stubbornness to let the young Dawn go and the fact that Barry would like to maintain the tiny age gap between them that leads him to continue on equally as loudly as before.

"I've seen enough of your contests to know there's a battle section, too!"

The boy nods mutely to the low voice, tears pricking at his eyes. Oh dear Arceus…can you save one humble assistant’s life and allow him to see his family once more? He knew traveling could be dangerous…but not this dangerous! Raising his eyes to the starry heavens, he sends one last prayer as he shuts his eyes. Little sister, father, grandfather…I love you—

He’s spun around in a jerk of an arm and Lucas’ gaze loses its focus as he hears a loud, “It’s gonna be a one million dollar fine!”

Now where has he heard that one?

With his heart still jumping in his chest, he shakes his head to clear the fuddy-duddies and opens his eyes. “Barry?”

Still shaking, he releases himself from the blond’s grip and brushes off his pants. Lucas wipes his eyes with the back of his sleeve and laughs sheepishly, “Boy, you gave me quite a scare back there. Just please…please don’t do it again.” And if Barry does do it again, he will scream and act like it’s assault…if he ever has the guts to do it anyway.

"I'm not gonna make any promises! Surprises are good for you!" Well, up to a certain age. It's quite possible that if Lucas were an elderly man (at least, if he were physically as much as he were emotionally), he would have had a stress induced heart attack. But Barry doesn't know that. (And why should he! What is he, a doctor?)

Punching the meeker boy in the shoulder, he inadvertently tells Lucas (playfully) to toughen up. "Yeah, though! I was headed to the pokemon center--" The trainer blinks suddenly, voice interrupted by a thought and the last echoes of his bounding voice trembling upon the asphalt.  "Hey, what're you doin' out here anyway?"

Hands resting on his hips and messenger back shifted back over his behind, the blond looks around the vicinity in some attempt to assess the situation. This part of Unova is hella ghetto. Half leaned back, Barry purses his lips thoughtfully. Oh, he can see the glints of bald thug heads. Oh. Oooh.

That would be… exciting? Miraculous? Weird?

She doesn’t quite know. Maybe it’s a mix of the three.

Either way, Bianca is relieved to have company in such an intense storm. Traveling alone was always so… well… lonely — and as much as Bianca likes visiting new places and seeing new Pokemon, she’s always been the type to enjoy the presence of another. Stumbling into this little house sure was lucky, and even the naive Bianca could tell that Barry was no threat to her.

She catches another whiff of his feet, though, and cringes. Those, on the other hand, were a different story.

“If I drink this, my feet’ll stop smelling?”

Bianca laughs again, a little harder than before. He’s funny; but in the kind of ‘doesn’t know he’s funny’ kind of way. That’s better than a lot of other kinds, in her opinion.

“No, no! Silly!” she exclaims, still giggling as she turns off the stove and searches the kitchen for a suitable bowl. “You’re gonna stick them stinky feet in it!”

Bending over, albeit not very gracefully, she opens a cabinet under the sink and reaches inside. It’s clear that she’s made herself right at home and she wonders if he thinks it’s rude of her. What were they supposed to do, though? Sit on the tatami mat until the storm blew over? How boring! Getting to know the kitchen meant that Bianca would be able to cook later, her subtly rumbling stomach reminding her that she hasn’t eaten since this morning.

A moment later, an ‘ah-ha!’ comes from the girl and she quickly moves to pull out a suitable bowl found in the waaaay back of the cabinet. Surely the old gentleman living here wouldn’t mind her intended use for it — it looks more like a bowl used for cleaning anyway.

The classic klutz forgets how low the ceiling of the cabinet is and lifts her head much too soon. An audible thud and a loud ‘ow!’ is heard, as is the rustling of the bowls and other contents Bianca was searching through.

She cackles nervously, backing herself out again, slowly, and sits herself on the kitchen floor; a hand reaching to rub the part of her head that she’d banged.

However, regardless of the integrity of his claims or how much he's seen, Barry is definitely not an expert when it comes to herbal cures. And why would he? He's never had reason to medicate (well, except for that one thing, but he'd rather not cover the subject).

“Huh? Stick my feet in?!” Barry seems genuinely outraged by the idea-- he hadn't even been sure which word to put emphasis on because of how preposterous the whole notion is to him-- “W--” He takes a step back from her as she bends down.

“What? Why?”

The queries are infinite in his mind, but all that really comes out are more “what”s and “why”s because-- why? What? How could he possibly benefit from this at all? Aside from it being a good, if not unorthodox way to pass the time when snowed in with an absolute stranger-- He supposes that's a fairly good benefit, though, at this point. After all, it's not like the blond has anything better to do besides stick his feet in hot leaf water and honey.

Her joke flies right over Barry's fluffy and blond head; well, if that was supposed to be a joke, that is. Yeah, hopefully she wouldn't go and do that-- that would be a lot of money in repairs, and neither of them even live here! He just stares at her blankly for a second or two, then to the side, expression awkward and confused before he takes a step back, lifting either of his feet up and wriggling his toes.

After what seems like a less-than-internal struggle, Barry relents and sighs out an, “Okay, whatever.” Standing up straight, he cracks his back and puts Bianca beneath his scrutinizing eye. “Anyway, I'm Barry; you never told me your name! Where are you from?”

Dark alleys are not the best habitats to find an assistant in, unless of course that assistant was from Sinnoh.

And if he was terribly, terribly lost in the city of Castelia.

Somehow Lucas has made his way past the thugs snickering under the single light post. Their leather jackets are littered with studs and depictions of some crocodilian Pokemon. That’s what the blue-eyed boy is here for anyway, further research of Pokemon in the region. But the shifty glances they give and the occasional low chuckle is a bit…disconcerting.

Shoving his hat lower on his head, Lucas carefully walks around the men, giving them wide berth before breaking into a brisk pace (one could almost call it running).

 “Thank goodness I—” the words barely escape his mouth when he trips over a nearby trashcan, the lid rolling on the cluttered pavement, almost sounding like a Magnezone crashing into a mountain of aluminum cans.

The thugs look up, their bald heads shining under the light of the bulb. Somehow when they are brought back into reality, the men are able to hold a glare.

“I-I’m s-sorry…I’m…I’m just going to…” Lucas points to a door conveniently a couple feet away, lets out a noise somewhat close to a mewl, and attempts to duck inside.

Now, Barry is not a malicious kind of person. But he is a presumptuous person, and presuming that this person really is Lucas, well, the blond wants to have a little fun. After all, it feels like it's been years since they've seen each other-- lord knows what a doormat like him is doing in such a shady part of Castelia.

Lord knows what a kid like Barry is doing is such a shady part of Castelia, still dressed up like a traffic cone.

"Don't make a move," the blond begins, voice dangerously low and gravelly against Lucas' ear. "Or else..." His hand tightens, the back of the ravenhaired boy's head against the trainer's shoulder--

“A-ah-! Sorry, sorry~!” she exclaims, removing her hat from her head. “I wasn’t expectin’ anyone to be in here is all! It looks a bit abandoned with all the soot all over,”

Looking around, Bianca wonders who really does live here after the confirmation that the fellow blond does not. They certainly have a lot of strange equipment and lots of glass lying around. Her eyes then move from the objects in the living room to the young man again. 

“Maybe he found shelter by a PokeCenter or somethin’. I hope ya don’t mind a lil’ compan —”

Bianca pauses as an absolutely rancid smell graces her nostrils. She didn’t even notice that the boy had removed his dampened socks prior to this very moment and she tries her best to avoid making a face that could be considered rude.

Instead, an ‘oh my!’ and hearty laughter erupts from her as she playfully waves a hand in front of her nose.

“We can clean up the floor in a little while. For now, you’re needin’ a remedy for them smelly piggies!” she giggles, venturing further into the home in a carefree fashion. “Hmmm, I wonder if there’s any tea and lemons in this kitchen…”

“Piggies?” The blond wrinkles his nose and stumbles in after, tossing his socks by the wayside. His voice is coated in a light confusion. Lemons and tea sound like a dubious combination in conjunction with the idea of cleaning his feet-- or, apparently, as this southern Belle might (endearingly) call them, swine. He wonders if he should take that to mean his toes look fat, or something.

“Wha? Hey, wait up--!” Footsteps superfluously heavy against the brittle tatami mat, Barry catches up to the other blond, and the curious, wavering passage of her feet. Wearily, he casts another glance out the window-- the snow doesn't look like it's going to be letting up soon, and this old guy's house is heated with a stove.

Barry would be lying if he said he wasn't worried, but he busies himself in being absorbed in the fact that somehow Bianca is nearly impossible to scramble after, the way she winds about the house so easily. He makes sure to hover over her shoulder as she goes about her business, chest inches from her back as he blinks in curiosity.

She didn’t want to have to cut her research short, but the weather was only getting worse. The December weather already made it practically frigid outside, but when another white substance began falling from the sky, Bianca knew she had to find some shelter quickly. 

She tried calculating how long it would be to get to Fallarbor from her current location on route 113, but the mixture of snow and soot made it harder for her to think (and breathe, but hey). The fact of the matter was that Bianca needed to get out of this mess, so she figured she’d invite herself into the first PokeCenter she found — or house.

How weird. Who the heck would live on such a route?

It looked abandoned anyway, and it would do for now — at least until she could travel to Fallarbor without much struggle. 

Pushing the door open with all her strength, Bianca stumbled in and found herself staring at a young, blond man.

"Who, me? No, I'm just keeping from the storm-- Gah!" He suddenly takes note of all the grime and quickly melting ice that she's letting in and-- well, the blond seems rather unhappy with it all. What would that guy think if he came back, and Barry, his ONE house guest, had gone and wrecked the place?

Running a hand through his hair, the trainer hastily coaxes her further into the living room of the tiny house and shoves the door shut. A puddle lies in the wake of all the snow, evidence of the quiet monster brewing outside.

"Jeez! What're you thinkin', lady?!" He exhales and lifts one foot off the wet floor and yanks off his sock before trotting closer to her, and consequently, away from the wood framed entrance. The remainder of the floor is up just a few inches, all tiled with tatami mat-- almost all the houses in Hoenn are Japanese style, as it would seem.

"Bah, well, it's not like the mudroom is gonna get ruined any..."

The sole of his foot is cold and touched with a bit of clamminess. He pulls off his other sock and clenches it in his fist before placing both hands at the sides of his hips. "Anyway, like I was saying! I don't live here; I'm waiting out the storm!"

It's pretty obvious she's doing the same. Barry doesn't bother confirming it-- it's not like she can do him any harm, regardless.

"The house owner went out-- but he's been gone for a really long time! So, I'm kinda worried, but..."

A pause. Even as Barry speaks that last sentence, he's looking out the window again, actually gauging how good of an idea it would be to go out and search for the man now. There's maybe two feet of snow by now-- maybe he could handle it? Gradually, his hand comes to rest beneath his chin in a thoughtful motion-- he's greeted with the smell of ripe foot and physically recoils, dropping moist tubes of fabric to the ground and scowling.

“Okay okay, chill out, kid… Sorry, okay?” He mumbles, eyeing the Rapidash which has now suddenly come up behind the boy in some kind of defensive motion. The boy looks so indignant, though, to be honest it’s a bit funny — he looks so young and like he’s trying his hardest to be indignant, like a six year old who is trying so hard not to laugh even though he desperately wants to. A smirk crawls along Lunick’s lips, and he covers his mouth as he tries not to laugh as the “insult.” Mister Tall? Okay, kid. He’s cut short from his smug thoughts however, when he asks what a ranger base is. Who in their right mind doesn’t know what a ranger base is? Unless…

Barry leans back, air rushing from his nose as fierce as a provoked (baby) bull. So, basically, no, not okay. He’s this close to swatting Lunick’s stupidly fingerss-gloved hand from his rapidash, but restrains himself and watches as things supposedly click inside the taller boy’s mind. He’s like 200% done here. His feet are antsy to bolt, but he has no idea where to go-- so, the real gravity of the situation is that he owes this guy a thanks. He’d probably be sleeping in a cave tonight otherwise.

“If you’ve gotta know, I’m Barry.” But that piece of gratitude won’t have its homecoming any time soon, because the blond’s ego is pretty bruised (it doesn’t help that his wrist feels like it is, too). The blond is doing a great job of attempting to look menacing in all his 5’7”, twinky, mittens-that-my-mom-knit-wearing glory. “Don’t forget it, since I don’t wanna waste time repeating myself.”

Perhaps the most insulting is the ranger’s implication that it is Barry who’s slowing down progress here. “You know what! Yeah, I do wanna.” He sounds entirely too rebellious-- aha, maybe it’s occurred to him that since Lunick is inviting him, if the blond does anything bad, then the bluenette will be put to blame. Not that Barry is the type to purposefully execute unscrupulous plans of sabotage; of course not.

“We’re going now, right?” His voice holds an edge which is there mostly if not solely for the purpose of keeping up this unnamed, onesided pissing contest.

And then that little misconception washed away like the paint on the boats docked nearby. Her first thought at the familiar, loud orange striped sweater and blond hair was “Oh God, I hope I have some cash on my person.”

She looked at the finger pointed accusingly at her and rolled her eyes. Of course it was her fault. He was the one who walked right into her! She had every right to stand there and blissfully stare at the huge buildings! He was the one who came tumbling in like a bull in a china shop, knocking her off her feet and sending her hair and bags here, there, and everywhere.

And now here he was, telling her she should watch out of herself! Oh, he’d be watching out when she was through with him. She made a grab for her bags before some random passerby could snatch them up, and then pushed herself to her feet, dusting herself off. She finally spoke to her seemingly breathless and excited rival, who took his role so seriously, in a cold tone, miffed at his greeting.

“Hey, Barry. Fancy meeting you here! …I was looking at the buildings, thank you.”She sniffed, her frown growing into an upset pout by the second, the more he talked. “And you-! You won’t fine me for anything, Barry! I’ll- I’ll-! Ugh!”

“Of course I’m not going to fine you!” He rests the back of his hand on his hip and lifts his chin at her. “I just said that, Dawn! Jeez, try to pay attention.”

Okay, maybe he’s laying it on a little thick-- and maybe he does sort of understand, at some primal level, the reason behind that ‘ugh,’ and maybe, just maybe, he likes to play to it from time to time, because it so often feels like Barry is the person getting angry and frustrated at everything.

“ANYWAY--” Naturally, Barry has none of that on the mind. Self introspection in the middle of arbitrary moments has never been his forte, nor has he ever desired it to be so, but something that is indisputably a talent belonging to the bouncy-haired blond is his uncanny ability to point out the obvious, and make it sound like it’s the discovery of the century. “Looks like you dropped a bunch of your stuff! Hmm!”

The blond looks about the ground and picks up her rolling suitcase by the handle, tipping it back onto its feet. “Oh, I get it!” He blinks and picks up her backpack, weighing it with his one hand, as if to judge the contents. “You just got here, right? That’s why you’ve got all of this!”

“Of course, I believe you was the one who probably needed it more..” Cheryl thought herself as a greedy little Snorlax. Her eyes trailed off to the grass, before she swipped her hair behind her ear. She wanted to get a good observation at the stranger- Oh, stranger! Mother always said don’t talk to strangers, she reminded herself. But if she introduced herself, she wouldn’t be a stranger! “My name’s Cheryl, by the way.” Now it seemed less awkward. Names were always a great start to making friends! 

Her eyes widened when he asked the question. It was tough, since she was a trainer, but her main goal was to train Chansey. “Yes, yes I am a trainer. But, my pokemon are not so tough. Well, my Chansey.” She corrected herself with a blink. “Well, no, I’m not from around here, but I am from Floaroma Town.” She smiled, not seeing as how relevant that was. Well, he was saying something about locations. So, it was sort of related? She hoped. Just smile and laugh, she told herself. 

“Uh, thanks?” His voice loses its chipper flavor for a brief moment in his response, however, admittedly feeling just a little guilty for taking her crop. Though she’s not skinny or starved looking (in fact, Barry is probably thinner and lankier looking than her, what with his narrow frame), this green haired maiden looks downright frail. That aside, ‘green haired maiden’ is an awful combination of words to make a pronoun.

It’s a good thing he knows her name now.

“Barry!” His voice lifts and grows in volume. Introductions are his favorite part about any relationship. “I’m Barry,” reiterates the blond, making a soft grunt as he slides one leg off the rickety branch of the apple tree and dropping himself to the ground unceremoniously. The forest floor is only so much of a cushion, and Barry isn’t too good at landing on his feet, but he doesn’t let the soreness of his arm ruin the moment(even if it does hurt like a mother--) as he stands and looks over her face, and then down at her chansey.

“Aw, really? You’ve just got this guy, huh... or...girl...?” Barry blinks dubiously at the pink pokemon. He honestly can’t tell-- do chansey even have genders? The trainer has never been terribly good with pokemon biology, but that aside--

“Floar--?” As usual, his words come out fast, and when his mind finally catches up, there’s an immediate disconnect. “Oh! Yeah, I went through there on my way from Twinleaf! That’s where I’m from!” Barry has interrupted a whole lot of people in his life, verbally or otherwise, but there’s no doubt that he cuts himself off in the middle of a sentence more than he has for anyone.

“I was asking, ‘cause it’s kinda weird for people to just be out in the forest by themselves, isn’t it...?” His orange eyes drift thoughtfully to the side and heracross lands dutifully behind him, its claws holding the basket close like a bashful child. “Some guy said he’d pay me if I picked fruit for him,” the teen begins casually before leaning in closer towards Cheryl, as if anyone would actually hear this next part.

“But, I’m actually looking for the Old Chateau. I heard there’s ghosts there; not just ghost pokemon, but actual ghosts!”