(ACE) The HEARTHOME Team

Heart still pounding from the shock of the pink thing's appearance, Rocket frowned as Drago appeared to recognise her, calling her 'Mew'. She floated up from the ground towards the dragon's face and wrapped her tiny arms around his snout. "Oh gods... It's been... so long. I thought something terrible would have happened by now..." Not sure what she was on about, Rocket kept his position by the bookshelf and scoffed at the small Pokemon; she looked as though she'd snap in half like a twig if he even poked her. Rocket growled as he stared at a shard of glass next to his foot - as far as he was concerned, she was another body to drag around.

"I'm... sorry about my scaring you all. There's.... someone out in the city isn't very friendly, to say the least. Shot me out of the sky like I was a clay pigeon." That caught Rocket's attention. He looked up at her, his amber eyes narrowing. "What was it?" he asked, trying not to sound as alarmed as he felt. "Did you see it?" No doubt it was one of the bastards that tried to kill them, perhaps even the Swampert himself. Rocket's tongue felt along the cut in his mouth where the beast had punched him.

He stopped listening to the conversation then, his gaze staring fixedly out of the window. Someone else had arrived; a Tauros by the look of its reflection, and he actually threatened to attack Mew. Rocket snorted loudly, watching the bull get stopped in his tracks by psychic energy - the guy had balls to challenge a 'legend', or so Mew had called herself.

A flicker of movement on one of the nearby rooftops sparked Rocket's anxiety and he stood up to his full height. "All right, enough of the bullshit. I'm sick of this fucking city, so I'm getting out of here, and I'm doing it now." As he approached the door, he turned back to everyone. "You should all come ... I'm not making the same mistake as last time, all right? We go together ... this place isn't safe," he added to Mew and the Tauros. "There's another group of survivors here and our mere presence here is pissing them off - they want us dead. If we stick together and don't draw attention, we may be able to get out without those assholes noticing us." He winced as he touched his swollen eye again, noticing Halloween's healed injuries with a wounded look - why hadn't Mew healed him as well? He'd done just as much fighting as he had.

"You all ready to go?" he said, looking out and up at the sky at the slowly sinking sun - they needed to be quick.

As Drago stepped forward, reaching towards the pink thing that came from the window, Michael snaps at him, not uncaring, "You're definitely not fine," Halloween allowed a dry smile to come across his features, a rare gesture from the stoic canine. He admired the other pup's guts to call him out. "You look halfway to dead, actually. We need to find some way to fix you up," Michael insisted stubbornly. Halloween still stands tall on his paws, more outright defiant to his injuries. His hind leg stung like a mother, and his jaw was throbbing from a deeply rooted tear, but he did not stutter as he responded, "I have been through worse, this won't take me down." His words were blunt but held no pride. He was not bragging, merely stating a fact. And not an entirely true one, but he would not admit that either. The Arcanine had never had a kind, easy life. "Maybe you should sit down, Halloween..." Beatrice adds in, standing next to the Growlithe. Her eyes were worried, anxious, though she was awkward about sounding so informal with a stranger who risked his life for their's. As it was, Halloween turned his head away from them, only then taking in the conversation going on.

He finally caught a name. Mew...? The creature before them was definitely different than anyone Halloween had ever met. She was clearly feline in origin, a small cat with large ears and eyes. Her fur was a soft lilac, but far from healthy. Mew's pelt was downright filthy, showing either illness and reluctance to care for her appearance, or no spare energy to use on her looks. Both cases seemed possible, given the exhausted, dull sheen to the cat's cerulean eyes. Halloween was willing to bet his right leg it was a mixture of both that kept the Legend in such poor health as his emerald eyes flickered over her tail. There was no way to gauge how long it was naturally, the appendage ending in such a mess that hinted at a battle wound, or worse. Bone showed through muscle and dried blood. The Arcanine could only wonder how long the wound had been there; she acted as it was not new, and the fact that the blood was so darkened told that it was old. ... What is the state of the world if a legend such as Kanto's Mother had so far fallen?

"Y-yeah. I'm Mew, you're right." Halloween allowed himself to relax as she nodded, responding to the group after a touching... reunion with Drago? He sighed in tired relief. Mew was no threat. "Sorry for coming off so brash. My name is Halloween." The psychic seemed to finally focus on him in particular, the Legend's eyes widened as she took in his state. "Oh god, you're... not well at all," she commented quietly. The fire dog tensed as she suddenly moved closer to him. "It's nothing," he grunted, but Mew was already moving. Her body morphed, growing into a pudgy bunny-like creature. "Here, hold still." Halloween could only obey as the powerful creature pressed one paw to his foreleg. Instinctively, he flinched away. Not used to being touched so delicately, the legendary pokemon resisted the urge to duck away, but suddenly her limb pulsed with a soft violet. Mew took in a deep breathe, exhaling softly as something happened to the Arcanine's body. His fur seemed to react, the skin on his hindquarters magically healing itself of the blisters. Within moments, he was able to rest his leg on the ground again, tentatively. Halloween gasped, his breathing hitching as he choked out, "F- fuck..." New found energy had seemingly wrapped itself around his very core, a warmth flowing through every hair, every cell in his body.

Halloween immediately felt like he could run across the region and not be tired. Even the exhaustion from not eating and walking for a week straights had dulled to a merely unpleasant sensation. Grateful tears wrapped around his eyes, the canine dipping his head to the Legend. "...Thank you," he breathed. With a blink, the emotional response vanished, and he turned to grin cheekily at Bee and Connor. The Fletchinder returned the smile, but before either could comment, an intruder showed up. A Tauros, threatening the Legend. Mew had no hesitation in knocking the male back, threatening him in return. Halloween stepped forward immediately, his bulk towering over Mew as he took up a stance behind her. "She was doing no harm. I suggest you keep on moving, stranger," he growled.

"All right, enough of the bullshit. I'm sick of this fucking city, so I'm getting out of here, and I'm doing it now." The sudden words from none other than the Garchomp caught him off guard, the Arcanine snapping his head around to stare at him. 'Enough of this bullshit'? Was that a pun? Was he joking? They just had two intruders, one good, one hostile, and dealing with them was being called bullshit? Rocket reached the door and turned back to those inside. "You should all come ... I'm not making the same mistake as last time, all right? We go together ... this place isn't safe," he insisted, earning a snort from the canine. "That is what I've been trying to do."
"You all ready to go?"
Halloween glanced at Beatrice and Drago before settling his green eyes back on Rocket. "... We need to scout ahead first and have a plan of action on where we're going," he insisted. "If we leave the city, I am not leading three kids and a Legend to an open space where we get eaten during the night. Let the fliers find a direction to go first," he added, tossing his head at the Dragonite and Fletchinder. "They are all ready to go." Turning he dipped his head to Mew. There was a very apparent new found respect in his eyes as he regarded the Legend. "Will you be staying with us long term? If you are unable to walk, I am capable of carrying you. You too, Connor, Michael. We likely will need to be very quick once we set out."

I'm terribly sorry, please skip me. Feel free to use me as one would an NPC.

((Skip please.))

(skip. hallow narrowed his eyes at Whiskey and scoffed. "If you're a God, then I am you're fucking towel boy, dick wad." But then noticed Drago missing and his eyes went wide. "...Where is Drago?")

"Mew..."

...Mew...?

The name echoes in Michael's ears, and repeats itself over and over as if somehow that will dull his reaction. Michael is familiar with the Kanto legends, and the idea that there was actually one here, right now, with them-his heart starts to pound in a painful rhythm, every beat was thunder roaring and screaming to be released. Surely this was merely a dream, and something to be forgotten quickly. Maybe, maybe if he closes his eyes, Michael will be alone once more.
A goddess.
"A...a goddess..." Michael echoes the voice in a strangled whisper. Even though he kicks and screams, his mind drags him back to them, their face, their brilliant smiling face asking him a single question out of pure curiosity. The sun had been shining, the sky clear, as hopelessly idyllic as he has always wanted the scene to be.

"Do you believe in goddesses, Mikey?" they had asked that day; it had been an innocent question, and his answer was lost to him. His most beloved had asked something else-something important-but their words were drowned out by the sounds of crackling flames and the shouting of strangers. The heat, the smoke that choked the air, all of it had threatened to destroy him. That day, it might have been easy.

Then there was a voice. Furious, impatient, it...

"I swear to Arceus if you try anything, I will impale you with my horns and wear your limp, bleeding body as a trophy." Michael stares at the bull, at the complete stranger, an odd sensation lingering in his paws. He wants to see Mew crush the life out of it, to see it thrash and scream and-
And...no. No. That was not him. That was the other voice. Not him. Someone else was speaking now, somebody familiar, and all he has to do is focus.
Focus?
"Focus," Michael asserts, and for a moment he thinks he sees a shadow of a satisfied smile before it vanishes into the back of his scattered thoughts. The dragon named Rocket pipes up, saying stuff that has become obvious to everyone by now, and Halloween's response is almost enough to make Michael grin. Serves him right, he thinks. The Arcanine was much better leadership material, and Rocket's poor attempt to take charge wasn't going to change that fact. Michael half-listens to the rest of the exchange, already bored of the subject at hand. Leave now, leave later, plans, all of it was dull, dull, dull.

"YOU HEAR THAT? I AM A GOD! YOU ARE FOOLS TO TRUST IN THIS...this..." the bull shouts suddenly, and Michael's ears perk at the word "god". This-this pathetic thing thought it was a god? As if an actual god would give such a shameful display, and throw a childish tantrum over one of its fellow deities. In his head, there are echoes of condescending laughter, which only grows louder with each passing second.
Did you hear him, Michael? Did you-
"I heard, you know I heard."
He thinks he's a god! A god!
Now Michael cannot ignore the sheer absurdity of the situation, and he too begins to laugh, and aims his laughter straight at the bull Pokemon that had forced his way into the situation and made an utter fool of himself. Though he can hear Halloween speak, Michael doesn't pay the words any attention.


Connor hung back from the other Pokemon, his ears pressed against the side of his head and his tail tucked firmly by his side. There was so many things being thrown around by the group, something about the newcomer being named Mew and then that strange cow thing had just shoved his way into their shelter-no, Connor couldn't handle it. He couldn't drown out any of the voices and, whimpering slightly, he decided to simply wait until the entire thing was solved without him. Connor was petrified to that spot, his heart thumping against his chest; if he tried to run, that pink cat would lift him up too and kill him, he knew she would in a second. The Eevee shut his eyes tightly, hoping that everybody he was scared of would just vanish, but it was hopeless. When he dared to look again, nothing had changed.

"All right, enough of the bullshit. I'm sick of this fucking city, so I'm getting out of here, and I'm doing it now." Rocket said, standing up and turning to leave. Connor stared at him with wide eyes; how was he supposed to move to follow? Rocket began talking to the two complete strangers, and Connor turned his attention to Halloween, Beatrice, and the one named Michael who had been mumbling to someone who was invisible. What were they going to do? Would they follow? Halloween said something about getting eaten and Connor immediately cowers again. He didn't want to be eaten, he didn't want to be scared and hurt, he wanted his sister here and she was nowhere to be found.

"Will you be staying with us long term? If you are unable to walk, I am capable of carrying you. You too, Connor, Michael. We likely will need to be very quick once we set out." At the thought of traveling, Connor's torn paws seem to burn with pain even worse, and he can't help but whimper once more, looking up at Halloween while his eyes water. He's about to give an answer when the cow-creature starts screaming at them, and Michael starts laughing like he's crazy-Connor's answer dies in his throat and he instinctively moves away from the two and closer to the entrance. When Halloween asked where Drago was, Connor finally realized that the dragon was missing-where had he gone? How did he leave without anybody seeing...what if...what if something had snatched him up?

"I...I just wanted to find my s-sister..." he says in a weak, shaky voice.

(ooc; rip i am so sorry but i...don't really know what to make francesca do since i don't have much to work with. sorry this is so late i was kicked out of the house for the whole day because realtors orz)

"If you're a God, then I'm your fucking towel boy, dickwad," insulted the Arcanine--or at least that's what he assumed the speaker was, but that was based heavily on deduction. Whiskey felt his eyes and ears gradually adjust to his...what was it? Quarantine? Prison? For the love of Arceus, could it be his cage? As if he were some disgrace of life, a primitive beast, a waste of space?!

A sensible thought, a rarity for Whiskey, crossed his mind--maybe he was the danger here. But when he heard uncontrollable barks of laughter, his eyes narrowed into angered slits.
They are fools. They are all fools. The irritated Tauros braced his head and bashed the interior of the psychic sphere with his horns, but this attempt to escape was in vain. The walls were far too rigid to burst through; the impact of ramming his horns into an unyielding barrier caused him to howl with pain.

For a few moments, he lingered there stunned while his head throbbed with a fusion of agony and anger. His breathing was rapid with a twinge of desperation. These fools need a leader. If they are too stupid to be cautious during the damn apocalypse, they need someone like me who knows what they are doing, he tilted his head in consideration. He had to gain their trust somehow, and obviously showing them his raw power had not helped his case in the slightest.

With a sigh, he forced himself to be submissive. He wordlessly hung his head. I am not letting them win or cast themselves over me. I will not be subordinate. But they need help. If it is true that this Mew is a Legend...well, well, I was brave, wasn't I? Going up against a Legend! They should see my bravery, see that I could be a hero here. I can help somebody, once they accept that I am always correct. I just have to gain their trust, stop trying to escape, so I, a God, can be released and take the place I rightfully deserve.

And, for once in his life, Whiskey stood still despite the ire pulsing through his veins.

His paws are absolutely fucking killing him.

The ribbons Valentine tended to keep as clean as possible drag along the ground--he has no energy to spare to keep them up.  His steps are slow, his head low.  The warmth from the sun is soothing, but the orange glow of the sky signals that soon evening will arrive and the area will cool down.  It could honestly be much worse, he reflects; he could be stranded in a place with snow or some shit.  Like one of those icy caverns he remembers hearing of, or Snowbelle, or Snowpoint, which is actually the more likely of all those options for him to come across; considering that a glance around confirms he is in Hearthome, so he's definitely in Sinnoh.  Not that he knows where Hearthome is in relation to Snowpoint.

He'd like to believe that should he start coming across snow, even in his sleep deprived addled state he'd have the pretense of mind to turn the fuck around and go back.

Well, on the bright side, there should be shelter here.  And possibly food.  If I can't find a safe place to sleep, food would be compensation...

Necessary compensation.  He can't see his ribcage yet, but his hunger has gone a bit past the kind of pain he has grown used to; now it's a deep, pervading need.  It won't be long before he is emaciated.

He pauses for a moment to lean against a wall, resting his disheveled hide against it.  The dizzy spell is quick to go, but a needle of fear pricks him.  This is just the beginning; if he doesn't start getting consistent food and sleep soon, he is only going to decline further.  The spells will get more and more frequent...

They'll pick you off, pin you from behind while the world is tilting and shifting around you, when you're too busy trying to keep the sparce contents of your stomach in place.  Then they'll rip into your throat, your belly; they'll feed on you and you'll choke on your own blood; you'll be just another statistic no one is even keeping track of anymore...

With a shudder he drags himself from his daydream.  Those thoughts are going to lead nowhere but mental decline, and with his physical health already starting to dip, now is not the time to suffer a meltdown.  He has to stay sharp.

Deep breath in.  He starts again, lifting his head this time to wearily eyeball the surrounding area.  One ear flicks as a snatch of sound steals his attention, and he blinks.  Responding without thought, his body steers to the right, following the sound--it's not long before his heart begins to thud in his chest.  So that's why he reacted that way; he heard people talking.  His tail begins to wag, and the silly grin that plasters itself onto his face goes unchecked.  Forcing his pace into a trot, he turns a corner and-

"If you're a God, then I'm your fucking towel boy, dickwad."

Well.  That was... not on his list of things he expected to hear.  Not what he expected to see, either; a small gathering of Pokemon, and thankfully all alive--no smell of rotting bodies here.  Too late he realizes he is within sight of a group of total strangers, and fear explodes in his chest... only to be instantly replaced by shock as his brown eyes fall upon the final member; a floating pink cat.

Mew...?

Sitting on his haunches, Valentine takes a moment to remember to close his mouth, thinking that, in hindsight, seeing a god absolutely warranted him the right to gape.

I'm terribly sorry, but please skip me. I know I just came out of the SH, but life is... preventing me from posting.

Rocket could've clawed that damn Arcanine right across the face; not because his plan to scout the city for a way out was the last thing that the Garchomp wanted to do, but because he was right. None of them knew their way around this city for shit, except perhaps Francesca, and running out there without knowing where they were going would only end badly. No doubt that asshole of a Swampert and his followers were looking for them, and Rocket didn't fancy facing off against him again, especially considering how terribly it ended for him last time.

But he wasn't the only one that mattered anymore. He had allies to protect, although he wasn't sure just how many of them he could consider an 'ally' given his shameful performance just a few minutes ago. His evolution into Garchomp was supposed to be the turning point in his life; the ultimate goal that he had worked and fought so hard to achieve, but to get his ass kicked by a single Pokemon just minutes later hadn't been part of the plan. He'd wanted to evolve to get stronger, to conquer; not to end up running away with his tail between his legs like a pansy.

"I can help scout. I'm in pretty good shape, anyways." Oh no. Francesca was not leaving him alone with these guys so soon after coming back.
He pushed off the cabinet he was leaning on, swaying as he regained his balance. "I'll come with you," he said. While he had no doubts that the Krookodile could look out for herself, her sudden disappearance before had unsettled him. Besides, she was the only one here he could even consider a friend, and Rocket was not about to let go of that.

He winced as he took a step towards the door, hoping that the pain would gradually fade as he got moving again and wondering why the hell this 'Mew' had decided to heal Halloween and not him. Well, fuck you too. He couldn't find the will to waste any energy on these guys; he had a feeling he'd need it just trying to get out of this city alive.
"Oh, and you," he rounded on the Tauros with a snarl as he finished his rant. "Shut the fuck up. You want those guys to hear your bullshit and find us before we've even had chance to scout? You keep that mouth shut while you're with us, you got it?"

His amber eyes looked round at everyone as he ducked under the door frame. "We'll find the quickest way out of here. You guys stay put, keep watch and-- He cursed loudly as he nearly tripped over a Sylveon that had appeared outside the door. "Fuckin' -- just -- c'mon, let's go," he grumbled to Francesca, stomping past the Fairy-type and out into the streets. He looked upwards at the slowly sinking sun. They'd have to hurry.

(skip)

(I'm sorry...skip me. I can't think of a thing to write.)

Well, this was just going swimmingly. Whiskey could tell that the group was dysfunctional and desperately required a leader figure. But if he weren't to be it, well...how would that work? Would he have to rise in arbitrary ranks here? For them to listen to him, for him to be of  help in this makeshift 'team,' he would have to become respectable. And he hated to admit it to himself, but he hadn't presented himself with the proper approach. What the Garchomp said next reinforced that thought; "Oh, and you. Shut the fuck up. You want those guys to hear your bullshit and find us before we've even had chance to scout? You keep that mouth shut while you're with us, you got it?"

Whiskey grumbled, but nodded reluctantly. He had to keep a cool head, but that was difficult. He could feel the hot sensation of anger already numbing his lips, that same feeling that came prior to giving someone a tongue-lashing.

"We'll find the quickest way out of here. You guys stay put, keep watch and--Fuckin' -- just -- c'mon, let's go."

"Wait, I'd like to tag alon--" he began, but the Garchomp and the Krookidile were already gone into the crisp afternoon air. Whiskey fell to his haunches in a huff. This was reducing his dignity to rubble. The little voice that Whiskey despised was speaking in the outskirts of his mind again, telling him maybe this was a game-changer for him, that maybe he could mature from this situation.

But that wasn't very likely. He was far too sure of himself to change. And earning these Pokemons' trust after they basically laughed at him...well, that was a challenge in itself.
(Well, it's still a challenge I guess. Something to help the days go by...who knows, I may come out of this with an army behind me.) He smirked.

"Alright, all of you," he stated, hoping to grasp their attention. "I...I apologize for my outrageous display?" Whiskey winced at his own words, and it came out more like an inquiry than a statement. How pathetic he sounded. (It's for the greater good...it's for the greater good...)

"Now, I'd like to help. I hope you all will allow me to be an addition to this party," he concluded, staring down at his hooves in a daze. The kind words--words that established equilibrium rather than authority--felt like acid on his lips.

[[OOC; trying to make Whiskey more of an addition rather than just an annoying prick/dead weight. hoping that will make things run a little more smoothly. I apologize if him not particuarally doing much of anything besides being a jerk slowed the team down. ^-^;]]

This group is a fucking mess.

Not two minutes after arriving he can pick up on the sour vibes, briefly wondering if bothering to investigate the area for living had been a good idea after all.  

I was so happy at the thought of finding survivors that I didn't think on whether or not they might be FRIENDLY survivors.  He could kick himself for such a giant error, he really could.  Hungry and tired or not, these were mistakes he could not afford to make.  And yet, he just did.  How brilliant of him.  He's lucky it didn't cost him his life immediately.

"Alright, all of you... I...I apologize for my outrageous display?" Valentine stares at the buffalo in contempt, seeing right through his words--honestly, a child could have, with the way it sounded more like a question than anything resembling sincerity.   "Now, I'd like to help. I hope you all will allow me to be an addition to this party."

He can be an addition all he wants to be; nothing suggested outright malice and he doesn't seem worth an argument.  The vulpine huffs and turns, bolting after the dragon and the crocodile.  It should be easier to speak with two people instead of a roomful, and maybe he'll find food wandering with them instead of listening to that dumb buffalo.  Thankfully the two have not gotten far, though Valentine hesitates upon locating them.

I didn't think about how I would approach them.  Shit.  This "not thinking" thing needs to stop; it's seriously going to get him killed someday.

"... Um... hello?  I was wondering if I could come scout with the two of you?  That buffalo annoys me.  I've been to this city once before; if you need help navigating I'm better than nothing."

"Which way do you wanna head, first?" Francesca asked him as they made their way down the streets. Rocket
was on full alert, watching every shadow, peering through every window for any signs of movement. He felt so exposed, so open ... that Swampert or any of his group could've been watching them right at that moment. The Garchomp's jaw tightened as he growled softly; if that lumbering great toad showed his face again he'd tear his stupid, ugly head straight off his shoulders. That'd teach him to ruin his evolution.

"Or...better question, where should we avoid?" Rocket stretched out his arms and flexed his neck muscles; now that he was moving he wasn't hurting quite so much. He needed to limber up in case of an attack, so he kept exercising his muscles as he went.

"Probably not that way," he replied, gesturing a claw at the street behind him. "Around the Poffin House, I mean. That's where we were attacked." He shrugged, now circling his shoulders. "I guess we just keep going until we find something. Be on your guard though," he added. Hearthome was a massive city, but Rocket didn't know just how many other Pokemon were around. Dozens, hundreds, thousands? Did the group just have one area of the city which they inhabited, or did they have lots of different outposts? "Those guys know we're still around, and I'll bet they're looking for us."

"... Um... hello?" A sudden voice from behind startled Rocket, and he whirled round with a snarl, his claws raised. He did not lower them even as the Sylveon from before continued to speak. "I was wondering if I could come scout with the two of you?  That buffalo annoys me." Rocket couldn't hide a smirk after that; the bull was a weird one all right. "I've been to this city once before; if you need help navigating I'm better than nothing."

That got Rocket's attention. The dragon lowered his claws and nodded. "If you can help us find a quick and safe way out of here, I'll be your buddy," he grinned. "We gotta be careful though - there's another group of Pokemon around here and they don't like visitors--" A sudden thought struck Rocket, and his grin morphed into a snarl. So many new Pokemon had turned up since the attack; how was he to know whether they had good intentions or not? Whether they were already part of another group...?

"You. Walk in front of us," he snapped at the Fairy-type, pointing a claw down the street. "Try anything funny and you'll regret it." He shot a glance at Francesca, hoping she would understand what he was getting at. He'd left the others behind with the newcomers as well ... he could only hope that he wouldn't add another regret to his list.

As he looked down at the little Eevee, Connor seems to tremble, only causing the canine to tap into what he had not had for anyone except Easter: worry. "Hey," he starts, trying to be gentle, even going as far as ducking his head towards the small kid, but he was interrupted by mad laughter. Halloween froze, his emerald gaze snapping to... Michael? The smaller version of himself had grown hysterical, making the canine tense. Would he attack? At last, though, Connor managed to speak. "I...I just wanted to find my s-sister..."

Looking to the youth, he realised that Connor was moving towards the door. Don't run, Connor.. you'll never make it on your own. The gentleness of his thoughts, again, were out of character, and his eyes softened as he looked to the Eevee. "I'll help you look for her, alright? I am looking for my own sister, though the feisty thing probably doesn't need my help. But we also have to get to safety so we can rest without worrying about the dumb mudfish. What was her name? What did your sister look like?" he prompts softly.

Interrupted by the bovine, Halloween's normal scowl returned, the hardness right back in his eyes as he stared at the one who dared attack Mew. "I...I apologize for my outrageous display?" He flinched at his own words, causing Halloween to sort from the display. Clearly he was sorry alright. Halloween stood up, carefully placing himself between Connor, as well as Mew, and the Touros. "Now, I'd like to help. I hope you all will allow me to be an addition to this party,"

Halloween narrowed his gaze to green slits. He had no faith in Rocket. Drago had vanished. Michael was losing it. The only ones he felt like allowing to stay were Bee, Connor, and Mew. Who did this fool think he was? "What makes you think I should trust you?" he asked in a growl. "What is to stop you from pulling us into an ambush-- like we just barely escaped-- or betraying us when it suits you? There are kids here who need the help, and I will not let you put them or an injured Legend in harm's way."

Connor wanted to run, even though his paws hurt and there were bad Pokemon out in the city who could hurt him. His instinct to flee was so strong it almost hurt just to stand there. But when he looked at Halloween, and saw the gentle look on the canine's face, he knew he couldn't just run away. There were so few Pokemon he felt safe around, and if he left, and never found his sister...who would he have then?

"I'll help you look for her, alright? I am looking for my own sister, though the feisty thing probably doesn't need my help. But we also have to get to safety so we can rest without worrying about the dumb mudfish." At Halloween's words, Connor is shocked, then immediately his heart began to lift with unexpected emotion. He would actually, really help him find Penelope? The Eevee realised he was actually feeling overjoyed instead of scared-Halloween was actually going to help him look! Connor was overwhelmed, and even though he wanted to say "thank you", the words didn't come out. That didn't matter though. I'm going to find my sister. Halloween will help me, we'll find her, I know it! If he had the energy, and didn't hurt all over, Connor would've started bouncing in place.
What was her name? What did your sister look like?"
"Her...her name's Penelope," Connor said, looking up at Halloween, a hopeful look on his face. "She looks j-just like me, but she has brown eyes." His smile is tiny and innocent; he doesn't even think of how the description makes Penelope sound like just about any average Eevee.

Michael's laughter dies out; his throat aches and the pain in his head starts to become worse. He listens to the conversation between Halloween and Connor, and his good mood begins to slowly fade away, replaced by longing for the Minicchio he has not seen in what feels like a lifetime. Nobody will ever help me find you. Because I am a coward, through-and-through. How he missed their laughter, their smiles, even their flaws he missed horribly. It was as if he'd lost a part of his own self in that fire, on that day, not just his Minccino. How dramatic. Michael does not have the energy to speak back to the voice, and simply leaves the comment alone.
But none of it mattered anymore. He was here now, nothing else needed to be on his mind. The Tauros' apology was pathetic, but Michael knows it's better than more threats and declarations of godhood. A start was more useful than nothing at all, but that doesn't make the stranger anymore trustworthy. The Growlithe turns to the bull again, wondering why he had even bothered to show up and mess with them in the first place. Was it really worth all the trouble?
"You say you want to help," Michael says, "But how are we supposed to trust you after your...less than friendly outburst?"

Hypocrite.
Shut the fuck up already.

Whiskey refused to flinch at Halloweens' narrowed eyes, which he noticed was glinting a sharp, irritated emerald. He exhaled in rhythmic puffs as the Arcanine rumbled, "What makes you think I should trust you?" Whiskey opened his mouth, but was frozen into a slackjaw as Halloween continued, "What is to stop you from pulling us into an ambush--like we just barely escaped-- or betraying us when it suits you? There are kids here who need the help, and I will not let you put them or an injured Legend in harm's way."

And then the Growlithe spoke, spitting the exact accusation,"You say you want to help. But how are we supposed to trust you after your...less than friendly outburst?"

"Watch your tongue, both of you! Don't accuse me of being a threat. If this--this Mew were truly a threat in disguise, you would be honoring me for standing up to he--she--it. But I was cautious and perceived it as a threat. Don't automatically distrust me for being careful," Whiskey snorted, thrashing his head from side to side as he ranted. "And the whole damn reason I attacked Mew in the first place was because I wanted to protect you fools." He paused for a moment, swiping his tongue along his dry lips. He absentmindedly slurped up the saliva that dripped to his chin with a disgusting squelch.

"Now, you say the children need help--I know the Eevee wants to find his sister--and I can give you help as long as you put a sliver of trust in me. For Arceus sakes, you know you need the help, especially considering how dysfunctional this team is! You don't even have a leader figure," he grunted. As pathetic as he sounded, he was preaching the truth. He hadn't stomped on his own pride, anyhow. He saw no fault in the words he had spoken.

As usual.

[[OOC; thanks renegade <3]]

"If you can help us find a quick and safe way out of here, I'll be your buddy." Barely aware of the patheticness of the display, Valentine's tail starts to wag.  Oh, finally.  Company!  Company that doesn't want to tear his face off, and an added bonus this guy doesn't seem like a prick. "We gotta be careful though - there's another group of Pokemon around here and they don't like visitors--"

The dragon's face changes, the grin turning into a scowl.  Valentine's ears lay back and he takes a step away.  What the heck?  What did he do?  He didn't say anything so it can't have been something he said.  Why is the dragon angry?

Aw shit is he going to attack?  Fuck.

"You. Walk in front of us." The fairy blinks at the order, his fur spiking along his spine at the growl in the Garchomp's voice as he stares ahead to where the dragon is pointing. "Try anything funny and you'll regret it."

He really doesn't want to have his back to them.  So much for "company that doesn't want to tear my face off."  Fantastic. He still has no idea what he did to piss him off, too.  Could the guy just be paranoid?  Slowly, Valentine walks on ahead to comply with the order-- if he doesn't want bloodshed, running would be a mistake; this guy is way too pissed to not attack.

"What's your name?"  He's a few paces in front of them when the crocodile asks, and he jumps slightly, having not expected the question.  She doesn't seem to be trying to make pleasantries-- her voice is a touch more barbed than he'd like.  "Um.  Valentine."  He resumes his walk and puts a few more paces between himself and the other two, trying to keep his gait casual.  "Most of my friends call me "Val" for short."  

Does he dare ask?

Well... he has to ask a different question anyway.  Might as well.

"Few things: Firstly, may I have your names?  Secondly, I need to know where you'd like to go, or me navigating won't do shit.  And thirdly, I was wondering if any of you have seen a human around anywhere?  Goes by the name Alex, kinda average height, in their twenties, short brown hair.  They probably had a Tyrantrum with them?"  Despite the earlier hostility from the pair behind him he can't keep the hopeful tone out of his voice.

The Sylveon complied with Rocket's order for him to walk in front, much to the dragon's relief. His paranoia was beginning to flare once more; for all he knew any one of these new Pokemon that had turned up since the ambush could've come along to lead them into a trap. The pink Eeveelution was no different; golden eyes watched every made the Sylveon made as he walked a few paces ahead of them. Francesca asked him his name, to which he replied that it was Valentine, or Val for short.

"Few things: Firstly, may I have your names? Rocket growled, not liking his tone as he went on. "Secondly, I need to know where you'd like to go, or me navigating won't do shit."

"We want passage out of the city," Rocket replied. "The safest, quickest route. You do that and I'll be a little nicer." The dragon's nostrils flared as he snorted, his burned tail flicking anxiously behind him. "I don't wanna be rude or nothin', but we ain't got any proof that you're not with that group of assholes that I mentioned earlier. I ain't taking any chances."

"And thirdly, I was wondering if any of you have seen a human around anywhere?" The third question caught Rocket off guard and he blinked at the Fairy-type. "Goes by the name Alex, kinda average height, in their twenties, short brown hair.  They probably had a Tyrantrum with them?"

A human? Seriously, was this guy high? Humans were nowhere near strong enough to survive an epidemic like this; surely the Sylveon realised that. Pokemon were dropping like flies all over the place; if they couldn't make it, how could a human?

"No, I haven't," he answered offhandedly, his tail twitching with impatience. They had better things to worry about than a creature that was more than likely extinct. "You just concentrate in getting us out of here in one piece, OK? Point us to the right route and then we'll go back and get the others."

"And I'm not telling you my name until I know I can trust you."