Nooo...

It’s-- too cute!

Her mouth wobbles a little more visibly (Get a hold of yourself, Oleana!), prompting her to pry her attention away, toward the nearby grouping of strangers. A moment to compose herself once more... and she approaches, making an effort to conceal the urgency in her movements.

She is a tough crowd, observing the dance silently and with a perfectly straight face.

Yes, perfectly straight. The little upward twitch the corner of her mouth made? A trick of the light. The way she’s trembling almost imperceptibly, as if it’s physically paining her not to smile at this? … Also a trick of the light.

It was entirely without purpose that Lusamine now wandered through Aether Paradise, down cavernous white corridors and into the sudden lushness of the conservation area, tracing paths she hadn’t walked in what felt like decades. She was pacing, more accurately, like a caged (and declawed; and ill; and pathetic) Torracat-- but she supposed that was better than spending her time languishing in the emptiness of her home. All of her knowledge as president remained, after all, in spite of everything; perhaps she could at long last find someplace to be productive, and the place would cease feeling so horribly foreign.

Or perhaps she would simply watch the Pokemon. There were Surskit now, and Masquerain. At least she could say that she was able to see something beautiful in the waking world: the dance of insect legs across the water’s surface, the flutter of the Masquerain’s translucent wings when it decided to come close, the way its antennae shuddered and bored into her like two great eyes.

She had known this to be a threat display, once, but that did not occur to her in this moment. She stared back, transfixed. It almost resembled...

Before she could grasp the thought, something-- someone approached, startling her so badly she gasped aloud. This in turn startled the Masquerain so badly that it zipped promptly away with a thin cry, back to the water and its Surskit friends.

Seconds later, Lusamine felt rather silly about it all. The employee (and that was all it was, an employee: a younger woman she didn’t recognize) hadn’t approached her so quickly or directly that such a dramatic reaction was warranted. And the poor Pokemon...

“Ah Ms. Florie.” Nyx sat in the sun under a Parasol. An ornate table at her side as well as an open chair beside her. Her tea kettle and a few cups were near, awaiting to be used. 

“Isn’t the more important question why it matters and why the greyface is so obsessed with knowing?”

"What are you looking at?"

The pinkette leered at the woman standing over him as he placed his loveballs into the mobile healing station's docks. Why did people have to always look at him while he does this? Most always want their pokemon healed but that's what centers are for; he's not a nurse!..Well technically he can be, BUT HE'S NOT GOING TO BE!!!