route_1065 | (no subject)

(no subject)

Who: Mytho & Fakir [also open to whomever else wants to find the derp.]
Where: Cherrygrove pokecenter
When: Friday
Summary: Fakir has been going nuts trying to track down where in heck Mytho is and finally finds him. By accident. Because Mytho, against all odds, has been working at a job.
Rating: PG
Log:

The idea of having a job, like many things, had never really occurred to Mytho. He'd just been at the pokecenter and wanted to help take care of the injured pokemon. Getting money for it had seemed odd, but he found good uses for it, buying potions and going out to heal all the fainted pokemon left from battles.

Normally, he worked in the back with the nurses, but there was a lull of activity that day, so he was instead sitting at the front desk, watching silently as he waited for another pokemon to tend to.

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Fakir had, at this point, been as close to all over creation as he could get looking for Mytho. It had meant a lot of travelling, a lot of backtracking, a lot of baking in the wretched sun, and a lot of battling his way through swaths of irritated Pokemon.

When he reached Cherrygrove for the third time, he'd just spent the day searching the surrounding area and trying to train his admittedly unwanted Murkrow. It hadn't gone well, and not long before he reached the city the thing had fainted. Frustrated, he'd scrambled the rest of the way to the city and ducked into the PokeCenter, only to stop dead in his tracks and nearly drop the ball he'd scooped the thing back up in.

"You!"

Mytho blinked once, but otherwise had no outward reaction. Truth be told, the fact that his knight was in Johto had completely slipped his mind since it had been almost 3 weeks since he had last heard from him.

"Fakir..." he acknowledged before blinking again. "Your face is strange..."

"I have sunburn. It is what happens when there is too much sun," Fakir explained, speaking rather quietly and calmly, while at the same time enunciating every syllable in a way that would, to a normal person, indicate that he was far beyond irritated at this point. "I won't even remind you that I told you to stay in one place. Instead, I want to know what you're doing here, behind the counter, rather than outside."

"You told me to stay inside when it was hot..." To avoid that very thing that Fakir was sporting right now.

Not that that was answering Fakir's question.

"That doesn't explain why you're here, of all places," Fakir said as he approached the counter and set the Pokeball on it. His face screwed up in confusion as he noticed the little apron Mytho was wearing. "...Do you work here?"

A nod.

"Did your pokemon get hurt...?" Even as he asks the question he's reaching out to pick up the ball. Why else would Fakir be there?

"Since when does work make sense to you?" Fakir asked, utterly boggled by this. Mytho wasn't supposed to be self-sufficient, he was barely functional being led around and commanded. He glanced down at the counter and nodded. "Yeah, she's the weakest one. It was a bad idea to have her out while I was traveling."

Mytho ignored the first part of what Fakir said, cradling the ball gently in his palms. "Just a moment..."

He slipped off the seat, heading to the back room.

He'll be a few minutes, Fakir, hope you're patient.

"Don't just walk away when I'm talking to you!" Fakir called to the closing door, drawing a few stares from the other people in the center.

Finally, he reemerges, pokeball still in hand. "Here..." He held it out to Fakir.

"Thanks," he muttered as he retrieved it. He was quiet for a moment. "This job suits you, at least."

Mytho gave him a slight look. Was that a voice of approval? From Fakir?

"What's that look for?" Fakir asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He set the ball back on the counter and released the Murkrow Mytho had just healed. It gave a little 'kraw,' and looked between the two of them. "There then. You look much better."

Mytho reached out to gently touch the Murkrow, expression some how a touch softer. "The crows here are different..."

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