[No one's gears share the same switch, and that's probably a good thing.
He's quiet for a moment, a little thrown off because she'd chosen to address his apology - Why wouldn't she, she's not an asshole - staring out over the water. Then he turns his head to look back at her and contemplates her for a long moment before finally replying.]
Annie is waiting with Lute and Libera and an Egg and SOME OTHER POKEMONS by the train station in Saffron. She likes this city, really, all things considered, but her body posture today is far from relaxed. She's tense, her lips are pressed together in a thin line, her fingers twitchy. Lute looks calm, if one doesn't note the way he watches Annie without looking away. Libera is stomping her foot and looking ready to headbutt anyone who looks too long at Annie.
Arlert is roosted on the eaves of a nearby building, hooting quietly. ]
[ The lack of unknowns is appreciated, though Annie did note the person he'd been accompanying before he approached. She's light on the balls of her feet, ones bent, words clipped when she starts speaking. ]
I woke up twenty. No memories. No scars.
[ No scars from here. No memories from home. She's not being clear, and she knows it, but can't be bothered to try. ]
I need to move.
[ Not running, not just moving, but fighting, using what her father taught her to connect with the man who she doesn't even know if he's still okay. If she'll die trapped like an insect in amber, breaking the only promise she'd made that mattered. ]
[He blinks, squints, and tilts his head at her terse explanation. It makes absolutely zero sense to him, but that's not really a big deal, so after a moment of processing, he un-tilts his head and shrugs.]
Okay, let's go.
[Though not in the train station. His and Maya's little run-in with the law in Violet Town has taught him that much, at least. He's feeling a very weird mix of excited and worried as he leads her outside onto the busy street. He's excited for a brawl but worried about his friend. It takes just a moment to orient himself, and then he's taking off with long strides in the direction of the Saffron City Dojo - he's visited it briefly in the past, and knows there'll be at least one quiet place on the grounds where they won't be arrested or otherwise disturbed.]
[ She voices no objections, letting him take the lead because he's more familiar seeming with this city. Annie's come through several times by now, but she's spent more time in Goldenrod, Ecruteak, and Violet than she has here in Saffron City.
The lay of the land in the dojo is familiar in guided purpose, if nothing else. She's striding rather than walking, is stalking and already has her arms up, fists to either sides of her head by the time there's a quiet space to slip into.
That said, it's once she sees they're there that she already starts the fight, without a sound.
Not that she's going to hurt him, she's not in that kind of violent state. She just has no more patience, and she needs something that feels as punishingly real as life. ]
[The hit takes him by surprise, mostly because at this point he's come to understand that there is usually some loose etiquette involved when engaging in a friendly fight. Typically, and at the very least, some kind of eye-contact immediately prior to engaging is appropriate. The only people Krieg's ever hit from behind are ones he intended to kill - and then also did kill. And the only people who've ever hit Krieg from behind until now were also coming at him with that same intent.
So his retaliation is instant and instinctive. He drops to the ground and kicks his leg out in a wide sweeping arc, a dangerous counterpoint to the laughter that bursts out in that same instant.]
[ She won't pretend she's honourable, but she knows when she goes to kill, there's no niceties behind it. So while she has the anger, the grief, the bitterness, the dark amusement, all the tangle of emotions that make it hard to breathe, the only thing she doesn't have is killing intent.
Fierceness, yes. Those eyes alert, Annie pushing back and leaping out of the way of his kick, landing with her knees bent and her momentum guided toward a feint she makes at his side, trying to lure him into grabbing for her, lunging for her, putting any of his weight into a movement that seeks. ]
Welcome.
[ She says in the process, not laughing, but letting his laughter flow over her. ]
[Sparring with Annie is probably going to be a lot like sparring with Maya; it's a feeling he has without putting it into so many words. She's slender and athletic, and if he were the kind of person who found intelligence in others to be terrifying, he would absolutely describe her as terrifyingly intelligent.
(He's not that kind of person, though. He only has admiration for his friends, whatever their strengths and weaknesses, and he embraces it all wholesale.)
This is all instinctual supposition from somewhere deep in either his psyche or his bones, or maybe both, and absolutely none of it is enough to prevent him from falling for her lure. He completes the spin he began by kicking out with his leg, and, now facing her, gets both feet under himself once more and lunges forward - low and fast, with intent to knock her to the ground.]
[ She grunts her acknowledgement, and that's the last of it; everything else is controlled movement, anger giving way to focus still too frayed by anger, because anger has always been the easiest emotion. There is a brutality in Annie she's learned to curb over the years, but it's lurking there, clawing back up as she barely gets out of his way. He's fast, but she likes fast, shifting to the side and letting his momentum be her guide.
If she manages her redirect, it's to grab for his shoulder and pull down and back even as she aims a kick for the back of his closer knee. If it's enough, it'll send him flipping, his own force paired with her pivot and redirection of momentum along the lines she dictates. If not, it's just another step to react to, another plan to adjust on the fly.
She doesn't give in to the anger that's ruled her when she was younger, because she can't anymore, but it's still there, sharp and jittery and knowing she can break and bleed and so can he. ]
[The Pokegear turns on, propped against something on a table. Hank has some papers out, and one seems to be the designated 'whiskey glass' paper because that's where he intends all the stains to live. Otherwise it's more 'Lost Pokemon' print-outs.]
Hey, Krieg. You got some whiskey and some time? Get back to me soon. I promised Connor I wouldn't drink alone, and I think network shit counts.
[It's actually more like twenty minutes later when Krieg sets the gear to call Hank back. The liquor store was a lot closer than he thought, and also not busy at all on a Monday night. Go figure.]
[Hank sees Krieg and immediately starts emptying his glass. Like he was waiting for go-time because the presence of company, even network company, is sort of permission.]
So since people were turning into Pokemon and there were a lot of random souls heading in and out, I thought there'll probably be a bunch of 'lost' pokemon that were actually some guy in some poke's body.
So I figure we could bang out a way for us to tell differences right from the start.
[He's pouring another drink. He's 100% looking for distractions.]
[Damn. Krieg likes to knock back a few whiskeys as well as the next guy, but that was like a drinking-contest level chug.
But okay, sure, he's down for some light detective work (and heavy drinking???) with his buddy Hank.
He doesn't bother with a glass for his whiskey, just unscrews the cap and drinks straight from the bottle. If Maya wants any later, she'll just do the same.]
Yeah, okay. You got a plan?
I almost typed self-lubricating and that's the wrong thing entirely
[It's self-sterilizing! There shouldn't be any complaints.]
I guess the first ones we should start out with are the ones that went missing around the last few days, not the ones discovered and lost. But I'm guessing we should probably consider telling the Joys to put up some sort of fuckin'... Craig's List of 'Lost Connections' or something in the Pokecenters. Pokedex referencable.
Fuck if I know.
[He downs a quick mouthful.] Anyway, that's my idea. I'm sure in the confusion that gets caused, a few of the established Pokemon wandered off. [He's sort of half-ass scrawling these ideas on one of the pieces of paper he has.]
lmao, well, it's ALSO a kind of lubricant, if you think about it 8')
Right. Aggron. [He's actually writing that down, too.]
Duck girl said she was a ghost Pokemon. Forgot to ask which one she was because she was a duck girl and that kinda surprised me.
[Another swallow from his glass goes down the hatch. He misses the ability to get drunk, really drunk, pass out gross drunk like he used to. Damn this place's ability to maintain equilibrium. Still, he wants to get as drunk as possible, even if it ends with him writing down some weird shit that'd boggle the best philosophers.]
[They've been talking for what, like, a minute, and Krieg's already fallen way behind on the booze. So he takes another mouthful from his bottle, but at this point he's probably not going to catch up. Not like he's going to try. He's not super good at reading the room, but even he can tell that the atmosphere right now is all wrong for a drinking contest.]
Duck Girl? Who's that?
[That sounds like a very Krieg nickname, but he hasn't nicknamed anybody that.]
Maybe we should ask who else turned into monsters on the network.
[Krieg had been pretty busy setting himself on fire for most of the weekend, so Shiro was the only pokemon-ified friend he had encountered. But if Hank had met someone else, then there were probably even more.]
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