If he hadn’t had some sort’ve pride as a trainer, too much if he was perfectly honest, Kwarrel would’ve already been most of the way to Picolo City rather than still making his way to Fluto. But no, prison hadn’t ground the pride out of him, and he’d done the stupid thing and decided to take the time out to train up Ezen so she could handle anything they might come across on the way. After all, it would just be embarrassing at his age, with his reputation, to get waylaid by a lucky wild pokemon, or worse another trainer. No, nobody was timing him, if he went off schedule the only one there to judge was Ezen, but he’d know and that just wouldn’t do. So he’d taken the time to train, get her some levels, teach her some moves he knew from experience would come in handy, and then headed out on his way, confident that as long as he kept his head down nothing was going to stand between him and the eastern docks.

One would think, after the arrest, he’d know how well being overconfident served him.

He heard the Bayleef before he saw it, turning at the sudden lowing of the pokemon to see it part of a small group around a turn in the path. It was waving the leaf on it’s head incessantly, calling out in what he had to assume was a plea for aid. Unfortunately, he was too good a person anymore to ignore it, and it was on the path, and even if he’d wanted to walk on by Ezen had immediately set to trudging over. He had to assume as a pokemon she could understand exactly what it wanted without getting any sort’ve look for herself. Kwarrel, on the other hand, had to wait until he’d reached it to see the small (very small, how was anything so small as children?) boy one had to assume was it’s trainer. He was leaning his weight on the Bayleef, who was taking it well, had his free arm around a rather distressed looking Deino (a Deino, when he was that age they made you get a special license just to try to catch one of those), and had been glaring at Kwarrel pretty much the entire time he’d had his eyes on them. He nudged his pokemon to keep walking as they approached.

“Are you alright?” Kwarrel asked, ignoring the body language in favor of taking note of how he was heavily favoring one leg.

“I’m fine,” the boy said in a snapping tone, “nothing’s broken, you can carry on.” If the boy had been a few years older, or that attitude any less familiar, Kwarrel might have listened to his clear wishes. As it was, that wasn’t happening, and he motioned for Ezen to take her place at his far side (shards, sometimes he still expected to see a Mightyena there-) as he fell into step beside the little collective.

“I think I’m fine where I am,” he said, shrugging when the boy glared harder. “We could use some company.” No, no they couldn’t, in fact as little company as possible was best for them right now, but he’d once been a kid snapping and glaring at adults on the road too and knew patience was key in making sure they didn’t get themselves more hurt trying to avoid you. He’d gotten a broken arm up in mountains thanks to an adult who didn’t, and he wasn’t risking it.

Good news, the boy clearly wasn’t scared of him, not trying to edge away or return either of his pokemon to the safety of their balls. Bad news, with a distrustful sound he tried to urge his Bayleef to move faster, like he was going to prove that he was fine. Thankfully the grass-type wasn’t having it, and he stopped when the Deino gave a distressed chirp. So at least his pokemon had an idea of his limits, even if he was clearly too young a stubborn to himself.

That was also familiar.

They walked like that for a little while, the Bayleef taking it’s trainer’s weight, the boy pointedly paying no attention to Kwarrel, and Kwarrel keeping an eye on the whole little mess out of concern, before he decided to break the awkward silence.

“You got a name?”

“Do you?” And he was mouthy too, great. He took a moment to consider his next move, mostly because the smart move was to give a fake name for himself and his Rhyhorn. But then, if he was reading the kid right, he’d probably be able to tell and then things might actually get nasty.

“Everyone calls me Kwarrel,” he finally said, settling on the truth for the kid’s sake, “and this is Ezen.” The boy looked at him, eyes still narrowed, giving him an aggravated once-over.

“Kevin,” he eventually answered, “and these are Rose and Hemlock.” He didn’t point out which was which, but that was fine. Kwarrel wasn’t entitled to the information. Besides, he didn’t want to risk annoying him before he pushed his luck.

“You want me to take a look at that leg?” Kevin glared, again, and growled.

“It’s fine, just a sprain.”

“Okay then.” In Kwarrel’s experience you didn’t take that much of your weight off for just a sprain, but he was trying to respect boundaries, to not spook the kid. They lapsed back into a period of silence, that Kwarrel again ended up breaking, if just because it was fucking awkward.

“So, don’t see many Deino wandering around. Where you get him?”

“Her.”

“Okay, where’d you get her?”

“Caught her on my way through the mountains.” Made sense, was seriously impressive for someone who couldn’t have been over the minimum age for a trainer, but made sense. And meant the Bayleef was probably his starter, which also made sense. They were popular starters for official programs and people who could afford them. He’d… acquired, enough to know. Good pokemon, nice temperaments, and this one clearly knew what it was doing keeping it’s master in some sort’ve line.

“Nice job, they’re not easy to get.”

“Thanks.” And that was it, again. The kid wanted no conversation. Honestly he clearly didn’t want anything to do with him, from his help to his company to anything, but Kwarrel couldn’t bring himself to walk away and leave him and his team alone. They were young, he was injured, and there were plenty of dangers out there in the world. What would happen if a powerful pokemon appeared and they couldn’t get out of it’s way? Or the weather turned? Nope, he’d lost too much of that cruel edge over the years, he was going to make sure Kevin, Rose, and Hemlock made it safely to the Pokemon Center in Fluto Town, where he could be certain they’d be taken care of. If that meant a long few days of awkward silence, then so be it. He could handle that.

He couldn’t handle that. After another two hours of mostly silence- Ezen got a conversation going with the other pokemon at some point- the Deino tripped over a rock in the road, tumbling to the ground and taking Kevin with her. The boy hissed in pain as he went down, and Kwarrel was done.

“That’s it,” he said, turning on his heel, “come on!” With ease he swept Kevin up off the ground and deposited his struggling form on Ezen’s back. The Deino was quickly placed behind him. “Stay.” Kevin glared bloody murder at him, lips pulling back from his teeth in a snarl that Kwarrel briefly matched when he tried to climb down off the dual-type’s back. He could try to be intimidating all he liked, but he looked even scrawnier riding a Rhyhorn so it was never going to work.

“This is kidnapping,” Kevin said with the conviction and drama only ten-year-olds with attitude problems had. Kwarrel just snorted.

“This is an adult pulling rank. You two are staying there where I know you won’t get any more hurt.” Kevin glared harder. He didn’t dignify it with a reaction. With a wave of his hand Ezen began following him down the path again, the Bayleef trotting around the back of them to settle in at her other side. Despite his Deino’s attempts at affectionate nibbles (which certainly explained why his hair looked like it’d been cut in the dark) Kevin descended into half-growled grumbles and gripes.