foolishwren | 87. [Text/Action for Ecruteak in the evening]

Current Mood: crushed
Current Location: Ecruteak City

87. [Text/Action for Ecruteak in the evening]

_{[The following is sent out network-wide.]}

[Text]

gonna be gone today

won't be back till late

if it's important leave a message and I'll get it later

[Note left on the bedside table in hotel room, for Harry Mason and Henry Townshend]

Gotta take care of something

Won't be at work.

See you guys later in time for dinner probably

-Heather

[ACTION]

_{[There's a little rec center towards the south end of Ecruteak City. Given that the town's full of old people, it doesn't see a whole lot of activity.]

[But today, someone passing by might notice a small group of Pokemon hanging out JUST inside the door-- normally Pokemon waiting for their trainer would be playing or gamboling outside in the snow, but they look unusually subdued. Butch the Quagsire and Alessa the Absol, probably recognizable to anyone who's spent a significant amount of time around Heather, are sitting in the chairs by the entrance, although they're accompanied by two new faces...]

[A babbling Wooper is cuddled up to Butch's side, and a small, purple ball of fur is nestled deep into the Absol's bristly mane, not moving aside from the occasional little shiver or reflexive squirm as Alessa lifts her head to give it a gentle nudge every so often.]

[They're Heather's Pokemon, all right-- plus two of Kaito Kuroba's, Flapper the Wooper and Biz the Aipom, and they're clearly hunkered down morosely in the front lobby of the rec center, probably waiting for Heather.]

[But... where WAS Heather?]

[Smiling.]

[At the end of the letter, he'd told her to keep smiling.]

[Well, she couldn't do that. Maybe later. Maybe in a few hours, or tomorrow. But not today. Sorry, buddy...]

[If anyone actually went into the recreation center's lobby to see why the hell Heather's Pokemon were just sitting there, waiting around, they would likely hear it-- the repeated thwak THWAK THUD of someone viciously venting their spleen on a punching bag.]

[Which is exactly what she was doing, and HAD been doing for the past god knows how many hours. She hadn't even looked outside since she'd gotten there in the morning-- for all she knew it was past dark. She didn't know and she didn't really care, either-- which actually surprised her. She'd left that note for her father and Henry specifically with the intention of guilting herself into returning when she'd told them, because hey. They'd worry.]

[That wasn't good, she knew. Getting so sucked into hitting something that she didn't even care about getting 'home' on time. That sure was a throwback to the old high school years, wasn't it.]

[But hey... she wasn't punching a wall or a tree this time.]

[That was an improvement, right...?]}

[OOC: PokeGear responses will be replied to around 10:00 at night, when Heather returns home from beating the shit out of gym equipment. 8I]

Threaded | Flat

[He wanted to call. Oh, he did. But, you see, after spending half of last night making calls that never reached, a person gets kinda tired of those. And it's not like he'd be able to say anything anyway -- the only sounds he's managed to make in the past 24 hours were different sorts of cries, sobs and, if that counts, wall- and floor-punching.

But he's somehow managed to force himself to type. Which is good enough.

... Except, what is he supposed to type? Heather already knows; there's... nothing to add.

So there, Heather. When you stop killing the punching bag and check your Gear again, you'll find an empty message from a familiar number.]

_{[Something struck him as a little odd with that network text when he first saw it - it didn't quite have her usual 'voice'.]

[So he left her a message, naturally. It was his first impulse. Don't stay out past bedtime, because he's learnt that banter is a pretty good way to get a positive response from her, but also Let me know if you need anything. because he's always trusted his intuition and it's better to let people know the door is open than have them assume it's closed.]

[... and she doesn't reply, naturally, but he figured it was personal and let himself be distracted by a variety of things (like taking care of baby pokémon because that had certainly been a while) - until he did spot the little group outside of the gym on the way to do ... something, some hours later.]

[He recognises Alessa, although not by name, and Butch (who he totally knows the name of by now) and lingers by them, noting their unusually quiet nature and the two additions.]

[And it bears repeat, really: he always trusts his intuition. So after thinking about something for a while he opens the door and steps inside, listening to the sounds.]

[Sharp, strong, precise, and with quite a bit of force. And with them, human noises: grunts, pants.]

[Yeah, he's concerned. Then again, he finds himself concerned for the girl quite often lately.]

[Following the corridor until he finds the right room, he remains standing quietly for a moment before he knocks on the doorframe to announce his presence, not sure what to expect.]}

[Waiting up for her. He's writing in his notebook and there's a cup of tea next to him so it's not like he was up waiting for her. Just Harry never sleep and writing and she's old enough...yeah, no totally waiting up for her.]

_{[Stalking is a harsh word; for what Vincent's been doing to Heather since he got here would be 'keeping an eye out' and

also following her places when he has nothing to do, usually as a passing when he sees her.

And now, he stands in front of the Pokémon outside the door, head tilted a little, one brow raised.]}

Why if it isn't Heather's Pokémon... Where's your trainer?

_{[Cleo's on top of Valtiel, staring at the Pokémon from his head, interested in what's going on.]}

... Take care, kid. Send word, if you need.

[Envy doesn't think much of the message at first, but something seems...off about it. He figures it can't hurt to ask.]

something happen?

[He's not sure if this counts as important enough to answer, but might as leave a text.]

Is everything okay?

[Every time he sees Heather upset, he just thinks about that December. He doesn't know what has gone down yet, but he's going to text Heather with concern...]

Heather. What happened?

hey, you alright?

Threaded | Flat

[text?]

[action]

Action

[Action]