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scarletkilometersShort BW fic, featuring Emmet and a very smol bug
The door to the locomotive slides open, and a ball of yellow fuzz hops into the compartment and makes a beeline for your boss. The Super Double Line has already seen off the last of its trainers for today, so the Boss has joined you in the driver's cabin for the return trip. Now he drops to his knees to receive the object it has brought with it-- a slate blue narrow metal box wobbling precariously on its back. Is it held in place just through static cling? Yup, it must be--the Boss slips a clear rubber glove over his usual cotton ones before accepting it. "Thank you, Kitty." he says. The Joltik squeaks happily in response and springs up to perch on his shoulder.
"Some poor trainer has left behind their badge case," he says, tucking the rubber glove back into his pocket. "We will have to make sure they get it back."
You nod. And then, because it's been bugging you for a while, you ask: "Hey, Boss, how do you tell those guys apart, anyway?" He must have dozens of those little guys, maybe more that a hundred, though probably less than two. One lemony lint-ball looks like another, as far as you can tell, but he must have some kind of system to keep them all straight.
"Oh, I don't."
What. "You just called that one "Kitty.""
"That is her name, yes."
"You can't tell them apart, but they all have names."
"That's right. They are all named "Kitty.""
"Why bother giving 'em names when you can't tell who's who and end up calling them all the same thing anyway?"
"Well, it would be rude not to call them anything at all."
It occurs to you that he doesn't use nicknames for his regular battling team. He also, generally speaking, doesn't seem super concerned with what ordinary people consider "rude." It's one of the things you like about working for him: He always says exactly what he means. No bullshit, no hidden subtext, and no expecting the rest of you to read his mind. That doesn't make him the easiest person to figure out, though. You still aren't any closer to grasping what he considers "polite."
Meanwhile, Kitty has vanished into the folds of the Boss's massive collar to plunder the depths of his coat. Your boss rocks on his heels in the silence and swings his arms like pendulums. The car is quiet save for all the typical sounds of a well-functioning electric locomotive as you roll onward towards home. All of this is routine enough that you feel no need to comment until pops out of his from sleeve to perch on his upturned palm. When he leans in to coo over her, she nips his nose. Not hard enough to draw blood, but if his facial spasms are anything to go by, you bet it stings like hell. "Fine," he says primly, "twist my arm." There is a crinkle of cellophane and he withdraws his free hand from his coat, clutching small packet of fruit snacks. He tears it open one-handed and starts doling out dark purple gummis to the Joltik in his hand.
"The grape ones are her favorite," he tells you.
"Yeah, and how would you know?" he can't tell them apart enough to give them separate names, but he knows all their individual tastes in name-brand fruit snacks? Yeah right, you weren't born yesterday.
"Let me put it like this: Grape is my least favorite flavor, so it would be verrrry convenient if they were Kitty's favorite. And this Kitty, at least, does like them very much." He holds out his hand for you to see, and sure enough Kitty has three of the things stuffed into her tiny maw with every indication of delight. As much as you can tell with bugs, anyway. Not your specialty.
"Ingo will not eat them either," he informs you solemnly, "so I have to give them to Kitty. What good is having a sibling if they will not eat the flavors of candy you don't like? Useless." He shakes his head sadly.
"When we were little, our parents would buy spice drops, and my sister would try to make me take the spearmint ones even though I hated them," you supply. "My favorites were the cinnamon, but she took 'em all and didn't share. Never managed to do much about that, but she stopped shoving the mints on me when I started chewing 'em up and spitting them back at her with the peashooter."
The boss laughs, just once. It sounds more line a Wingull's crow than any thing. "I will be sure not to supply any spearmint candy, then. I would not want to invoke your ire." There is a 99.89% chance that's a joke, not that there's any telling from his voice.
"You know, I'm a pretty big fan of the grape snacks," you say half-jokingly.
"That is unfortunate," he says, popping a gummi orange slice into his mouth, "because Kitty has eaten them all." After a moment's silence, he asks "How do you feel about cherry?"
"Love 'em!" you reply.
He deftly picks out all of the red gummis and deposits them into your waiting palm. You try to make them last until Nimbasa.
When you finally arrive at Gear Station, the train rumbles to a stop. "Here we are, Boss! Home sweet home!" out of the corner of you eye, you spy Kitty disappearing under his hat.
"I am Emmet, and I will be joining Ingo on the Multi-Battle Train. Thank you for all of your hard work today, Audrey."
"Bye, Boss," you call bemusedly, and he sweeps out of the cabin with a flourish you have no way of knowing was intentional or not.
The door to the locomotive slides open, and a ball of yellow fuzz hops into the compartment and makes a beeline for your boss. The Super Double Line has already seen off the last of its trainers for today, so the Boss has joined you in the driver's cabin for the return trip. Now he drops to his knees to receive the object it has brought with it-- a slate blue narrow metal box wobbling precariously on its back. Is it held in place just through static cling? Yup, it must be--the Boss slips a clear rubber glove over his usual cotton ones before accepting it. "Thank you, Kitty." he says. The Joltik squeaks happily in response and springs up to perch on his shoulder.
"Some poor trainer has left behind their badge case," he says, tucking the rubber glove back into his pocket. "We will have to make sure they get it back."
You nod. And then, because it's been bugging you for a while, you ask: "Hey, Boss, how do you tell those guys apart, anyway?" He must have dozens of those little guys, maybe more that a hundred, though probably less than two. One lemony lint-ball looks like another, as far as you can tell, but he must have some kind of system to keep them all straight.
"Oh, I don't."
What. "You just called that one "Kitty.""
"That is her name, yes."
"You can't tell them apart, but they all have names."
"That's right. They are all named "Kitty.""
"Why bother giving 'em names when you can't tell who's who and end up calling them all the same thing anyway?"
"Well, it would be rude not to call them anything at all."
It occurs to you that he doesn't use nicknames for his regular battling team. He also, generally speaking, doesn't seem super concerned with what ordinary people consider "rude." It's one of the things you like about working for him: He always says exactly what he means. No bullshit, no hidden subtext, and no expecting the rest of you to read his mind. That doesn't make him the easiest person to figure out, though. You still aren't any closer to grasping what he considers "polite."
Meanwhile, Kitty has vanished into the folds of the Boss's massive collar to plunder the depths of his coat. Your boss rocks on his heels in the silence and swings his arms like pendulums. The car is quiet save for all the typical sounds of a well-functioning electric locomotive as you roll onward towards home. All of this is routine enough that you feel no need to comment until pops out of his from sleeve to perch on his upturned palm. When he leans in to coo over her, she nips his nose. Not hard enough to draw blood, but if his facial spasms are anything to go by, you bet it stings like hell. "Fine," he says primly, "twist my arm." There is a crinkle of cellophane and he withdraws his free hand from his coat, clutching small packet of fruit snacks. He tears it open one-handed and starts doling out dark purple gummis to the Joltik in his hand.
"The grape ones are her favorite," he tells you.
"Yeah, and how would you know?" he can't tell them apart enough to give them separate names, but he knows all their individual tastes in name-brand fruit snacks? Yeah right, you weren't born yesterday.
"Let me put it like this: Grape is my least favorite flavor, so it would be verrrry convenient if they were Kitty's favorite. And this Kitty, at least, does like them very much." He holds out his hand for you to see, and sure enough Kitty has three of the things stuffed into her tiny maw with every indication of delight. As much as you can tell with bugs, anyway. Not your specialty.
"Ingo will not eat them either," he informs you solemnly, "so I have to give them to Kitty. What good is having a sibling if they will not eat the flavors of candy you don't like? Useless." He shakes his head sadly.
"When we were little, our parents would buy spice drops, and my sister would try to make me take the spearmint ones even though I hated them," you supply. "My favorites were the cinnamon, but she took 'em all and didn't share. Never managed to do much about that, but she stopped shoving the mints on me when I started chewing 'em up and spitting them back at her with the peashooter."
The boss laughs, just once. It sounds more line a Wingull's crow than any thing. "I will be sure not to supply any spearmint candy, then. I would not want to invoke your ire." There is a 99.89% chance that's a joke, not that there's any telling from his voice.
"You know, I'm a pretty big fan of the grape snacks," you say half-jokingly.
"That is unfortunate," he says, popping a gummi orange slice into his mouth, "because Kitty has eaten them all." After a moment's silence, he asks "How do you feel about cherry?"
"Love 'em!" you reply.
He deftly picks out all of the red gummis and deposits them into your waiting palm. You try to make them last until Nimbasa.
When you finally arrive at Gear Station, the train rumbles to a stop. "Here we are, Boss! Home sweet home!" out of the corner of you eye, you spy Kitty disappearing under his hat.
"I am Emmet, and I will be joining Ingo on the Multi-Battle Train. Thank you for all of your hard work today, Audrey."
"Bye, Boss," you call bemusedly, and he sweeps out of the cabin with a flourish you have no way of knowing was intentional or not.
