route_1065 | isn't that right? we wanna make the dream come true!

Who: Dominic and Anemone!
Where: Their rooms in Cherrygrove City?
When: Today!
Summary: Dominic wants to check up on Anemone. And also possibly move.
Rating: PG?
Log:

Dominic put down his pen. He'd been spending the last two days gathering information on the Rocket attack, and his notebook was crowded with lines, arrows, crossouts and footnotes. He was in the process of cleaning and organizing it, to then type up and release to the community at large… but right now, he thought it would be alright to take a break. His head hurt.

The thing was, though, that he was enjoying himself. This was his job, and it was what he was good at. It was nice to do something important, and useful, and interesting for a change, instead of just training his duck and running from part time job to part time job… he leaned back in his chair and stretched, staring up at the ceiling. The truth was, they were earning plenty of money at this point. They could probably afford to leave this hotel for a better house, but…

Well, he didn't want to just up and move. Anemone might not want to. It wasn't as though this was a bad place to stay, either. But he had to admit… he wanted to get closer to where the Rockets had been. Was that selfish? Would it be selfish to try and move them? There were probably pretexts he could use- better hospitals, just in case, cake shops and sweets… or he could even just move them without asking first, and depend on the fact that Anemone was used to having no say in such matters even if she complained. He just didn't want to do it like that.

Anemone… he wondered. On a whole, her behavior here had been… good. Her moods seemed relatively stable. She didn't complain often of headaches and other pains. And although he had never dared bring it up—and certainly not try again—she didn't seem angry anymore for kissing her, before they'd come here… He mulled this over for another minute or two, and then stood from his desk, crossing his room to the door that connected it to hers. He knocked. "Anemone? May I speak to you please?"

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Since her accidental run-in with the Tentacruel a few days ago, Anemone had chosen to (smartly) stay inside. Besides the fact that it just felt colder than usual, she didn't feel like starting up a fuss to stretch her legs when she didn't feel like going anywhere.

So today ended up being just a lazy day, with her curled up in her blanket on the floor by the window. The dull throbbing in her head, which would go away in an hour or so, seemed to lessen with her forehead pressed against the glass. And she was okay enough just sitting here, watching all the strange people pass around the city streets below. She really did not feel like moving. So when Dominic knocked, the most she did was grunt--kind of loudly; she tried!--to let him in.

Dominic wasn't sure if she'd answered or not, but regardless, he'd never worried too much about barging in on her. It wasn't like back home he would wait very long before letting himself in, after all. So after a moment, he opened the door, looking around for her. He frowned at her position, wondering if due to the blanket she was under the weather… or just cold. "Ah, you know, there's a thermostat on the wall here. They don't charge us extra to turn it up…" as he speaks, he goes over to the knob to do just that, and then approached the window cautiously. "…Are you feeling alright, Anemone?"

The thermostat, right... She hadn't messed with it much, usually comfortable enough with the programmed settings. Today, she just wanted the blanket, rather glad that she could just wrap herself up in it and find whatever open floor space she felt like perching in. The grounds were carpet in the inns, tons better than the cold, silver interior of a ship, and although she somewhat missed the buzz she could feel when the ships hit a moment of shaky trapar, she very much liked the feeling of a sturdy ground.

She tore her eyes away for a moment to watch Dominic fiddle with the temperature and sighs as she rolls her eyes back to the window. It would grow too warm for the blanket soon, she was certain the moment she felt the warmer air brush over her head, but she didn't want to let it go just yet. "The people outside look like ants," she spoke, as if she hadn't heard his question at all.

"Just bustling about, coming and going. As if everything they do has some sort of deep meaning. Does it, Dominic? Is there some sort of huge meaning I'm missing here? Do you know any of them? Does Dewey?" Did Dewey even know they were here?

He looked a little bit surprised. Although he'd heard her in a philosophical (so to speak) mood before, it certainly wasn't her most usual one. And honestly, he didn't know the answer. For all his work with figuring out the hows and whys of things, the meaning was never something he bothered with. People did things because they had to, or were bad, or were good. Civilians were civilians, leading their lives.

He looked out the window himself, and thought for a minute before answering. "On the corner there's a convenience store. So I suppose the meaning for the people entering it is I'm hungry, right? The truth is, I don't know anyone out there, and I certainly don't know the meaning of their lives. Even knowing the meaning of your own life is hard, isn't it?" His tone is fairly conversational, although serious as always. The question is mostly rhetoric- he's never really thought about the 'meaning' of his own life, and he certainly doesn't expect Anemone to have done. Purpose, sure. But not meaning.

Oh yes, the ever-constant traffic of busy shoppers from the convenience store. Anemone presses her face against the glass again to watch the moving bodies again.

"Knowing the meaning of your own life... Is it really so hard?" Maybe for normal people, but Anemone was sure of her own purpose. Fighting for Dewey, of course. Against her look-alike, for the Federation, for the weird people who walked the earth she knew. Not... not this. Johto, no missions, no medication. Just--

But thinking too hard made her head pound just a bit more, and so she decided to stop. Didn't Dominic want to talk to her about something? "You wanted to talk to me, right?" she asked, switching subjects. The room was warming up too fast, so she pushed down some of the blanket. "What is it?"

He's glad for the subject change, because, while he knows people worry about this stuff, he still really doesn't personally know anything about it. "Ah, that's right," he says, flicking his hair out of his face. Actually, it's related, isn't it? He looks down at Anemone, away from the window. "I suppose… I wanted to know, are you happy here?"

Happy?

"What an odd question." And although it seemed simple enough, it still left her trying to figure out her own moods. She didn't hate it, no. It was just nothing she was used to, but she could adapt easily enough. More space to roam, more things she could do on her own--or try, at least--and she still didn't have to worry about a thing.

But there was also no flying, no fighting, no Coralians, no lookalike, no mission, no reason, no Dewey...

She looked up at him, not sure on her own answer. Happy but not happy. Could she be both? "I'm okay. I miss Dewey, but it's nice here. It's okay."

Not exactly the ringing endorsement he'd like to hear. He took the answer in, and after a moment, cautiously knelt down beside her. "If I may say so… you seem like you're doing well in this place, Anemone."

"Huh?" Her brows furrowed in questioning as she tilted her head. Doing well? Really?

...She's take it. Anemone nodded, a smile quickly forming on her face. "Does this mean you'll go get me more jam? I ran out again."

"A- ah, sure." He's a little taken aback by the sudden request, but not totally surprised by it. "But I was serious, Anemone. Lately, you seem to be in less pain… and there have been significantly less…" temper tantrums? "…wild mood swings, haven't there? Or have there been that I have not noticed?" He'd rather know than not, even if he's optimistic.

"Nah. My headaches go away faster here, I like that," she answered. But her eyes quickly narrow. "But my moods aren't wild! They're just... moods." ...at least her headaches are better.

It is very hard to delicately ask someone with a history on mental instability if their drug withdrawals are going well. "How are your headaches? Is the pain better or worse than before? Do you get them more, or less?"

"Um... they're better. They don't hurt as much. I sleep a lot of them off." As for more or less... "I don't remember how much I got them back at home."

"Do you have any other pains, or difficulties?" he's leaning a bit closer to her, although it's not intentional- almost wishing he could somehow see these pains if he could see her well enough. Even if this is quickly turning into an interrogation, his tone never changes.

Anemone's growing tired of answering all these questions. Her headache's worsening trying to gauge what's improved and what hasn't, and she ends up pulling the blanket over her head and trying to push him away. "You're making my head hurt worse, Dominic! Stop it!"

isn't that right? we wanna make the dream come true!

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