MATURE: White Swan, Black Swan

[System Error]

Next step of the stuff here, C9. Coming in hot for Day 1 of Review Week!

- That feel when they use fkn Fahrenheit in Kalos
- Of course shallow people wouldn't be able to happiness evolve
- She sounds like a Poke flipper
- This guy moves fast
- Of course they/you would call it a tea party.
- EVILLLL
- Hm, the shiny thing seems less inherently the capacity for being evil than it is demonic possession maybe
- One trope that bugs me is trainers being able to easily understand their Pokemon. Especially if the Poke's words remain hidden
- Hoo boy circling back to the incident
- Otome guy is here. Also he is acting funny
- Language shifts can always be tricky, might want to make them stand out more
- Welp, both busted
- This is almost crossing into anvilicious territory about trading in general, making it look like just a horrible thing no matter what. But maybe this side is just biased.
- She got his number!! I mostly joke but she actually squees a little on realizing too
- With Noel a bit jokingly too, if Odette wasn't in a crummy world, she could totally be an otome protagonist. She's even a little oblivious
- tfw no anime hair colors (or reds)
- I wonder if any of these demons have accidentally been unleashed by someone being too brutal in a battle or some random bleeding
- Man imagine how screwed they would be at a camera that can't be magically disabled. MMBN everything is on the net vibes here
- And Odette suddenly unleashes her own demonic powers. I guess she's the demifiend
- From h face? Huh?
- From Noel's description she may have attacked it in the spirit world after being pulled there or something
- Well as expected, Dorien is pissed
- Noel a master of excuses thankfully. Which may be legit but still. Also this might hit better if the low blood pressure was mentioned at all before this. Plus wow, thought she'd have high given how high strung she usually is

The plot continues to thicken. No doubt Dorien is going to be the least of Odette's worries after this. Keep it up, and hope to see more of this!

 

[Beth Pavell]

Kicking off my week with this one - seen one too many times while compiling the weekly newsletter to ignore. It's been a fair while since I last did a review, so let's see if I still remember how:

Technical Accuracy/Style
Didn't spot any of the usual spelling or grammar issues, which is always a good start, I think. Good prose overall, I think. The descriptive elements and exposition are balanced nicely with moving the plot along. I think perhaps you could have done with using a bit more nautical terminology - something as simple as 'lower decks' would have been more elegant than 'bottom part of the ship'.

Plot
Aside from the faint Team Plasma vibes, this isn't something I've seen before. I kind of like the magical realism vibe going in a Pokémon fanfic. It's not so out there that it's unrecognisable as Pokémon, either. Overall I think it's an appropriate length and level of exposition for a first chapter, which I suspect could well be a delicate balancing act in this story.

Characters
I'm a little less enthused on this front. I do like the idea of a - probably - evil team leader who has to actually think about things like recruitment and conservation of resources, even if he's forgetting them thanks to a bloodthirsty abomination whispering in his ear. But, to be fair, it's a rare character to immediately grab your attention on the first chapter, so this can't be seen as a massive flaw.

Final Thoughts
It was an easy read for a first chapter, and I think that's probably the best sign. If you're not noticing how long a chapter is while you're reading it, it's probably a good one.

 

[Welkamo]

Here for a review of the new and improved Chapter 3.

Odette's forehead hovered just centimeters over the floor as she pointed her toes. She exhaled deeply, feeling the effects of her straddle wash over her. The knot in her lower back began to loosen, and her glutes began to scream a little. In a good way, of course. There was no better way to start a busy day than with a solid stretch.

s t r e t c h

"Gothiiiiiiiiiiiii," Solene replied sweetly. She was always looking for an excuse to use the stove, so Odette supposed she couldn't blame her.

Any excuse? Does she light birthday candles with the stove? Toast here toast on it because she “forgot about the toaster”? Burn paper with it just because?

"Just put on the news and be done with it, goddamn," Odette said. She thought for a moment. "And where's the stupid remote?"

Venira is strong with this one

On most days, she was a very attentive student, especially in this class. Mr. Songmin was one of those young teachers who prided themselves on being on good terms with their students. He always put effort into making sure his lectures--no matter how boring the subject matter-- were at least moderately entertaining, so the moldable minds in his presence would be more open to listening. Odette particularly enjoyed his enthusiasm. She also loved how his Kantonian accent shone through his Kalosian words once in a while. She found it charming.

Sounds like a cool guy

"I don't have to be looking at you to be listening, Songmin," she replied easily, hoping to play off her inattentiveness.

Mood

He sauntered over to his desk, which was stationed right in the middle of the lecture hall.

Is this like the Senate room in the Star Wars prequels, or am I imagining thing wrong?

Odette pushed her glasses up on her nose.

The phrasing of this feels a bit odd

It was quite jarring to feel like she was back on a university campus, only to occasionally find herself sitting next to a middle school aged kid.

Funny image of An Extremely Goofy Movie with Ash and Brock instead of Goofy and Max where Ash is still ten but Brock has grown up.

She wasn't sure what was making her stomach hurt the most. The thought of losing or the thought of battling in front of such a large group.

A colon after “most” would work better than a period, in my opinion.

"RotomPhone, any updates on the latest sacrilege bust?"

Imagine having a Rotom Phone. Does he read your text messages? Does he know when you’re reading explicit fanfiction on Incognito?

The prestigious logos embedded into his clothes seemed to shine like the diamonds they were probably worth. Praltz, Louis Vibrava, Roll-X...

Supreme. Or whatever the Pokémon equivalent of Supreme is.

that shiny Eeevee

Three e’s here

"Well, I was going to say," he chuckled. "A shiny Sylveon would bring in enough money to last you a lifetime if you sold it at an auction. But, maybe not the best idea if you're only running five."

Uh oh

Somebody in my family comes across a shiny, it's on the market within a day

Wow is this Neopets

The gym itself wasn't what a standard school gym would look like.

My non Pokémon fan friends when I tell them about gyms

"What?" he said, feigning a pout. "You've never had a guy get close to you before? I'm surprised." He exhaled deeply and leaned back into the bench behind him again. "Every guy I knew in high school wanted to get in your bed, myself included. So that's kind of baffling."

Surely, he meant that as a compliment. But the words hit like a Froslass' ice beam.

Everything about the statement threw her for a loop. People wanted to sleep with her in high school? Including Dorien? Why was he making it sound like she had a pack of suitors following her around school? Did he think she would be flattered by learning that information? She was the exact opposite of flattered--she was fucking mortified. Though, she could thank the gods that she didn't know of Dorien's feelings before her crush tapered off.

Flashbacks to the two times boys in my grade said sexual things about me and me thinking “wait people think I’m hot?” Weird times.

Odette exhaled the shallow breath she was holding, almost feeling relieved that the start of class would save her from this absolute trainwreck of a conversation. It would also save her from the probable expulsion that would come with absolutely pummeling a new student half to death.
"Huh, class starting?" Dorien commented, like he was trying to fill the tense silence that had swelled between them.

Missing line… paragraph… break thing

Singing 'Jellicle Songs' wouldn't solve this dilemma.

Jellicent Songs for Jellicent Cats

"Come out to play, Excadrill. Swords Dance!" Dorien declared as he threw his ball forward. With a flash of light and a roar, his Excadrill appeared.

"Cadriiiill!" it yelled. It crossed its arms over its chest and began to spin around. A soft glow took hold of it's claws as it did so.

"Solene, reflect for incoming attacks," she said simply as she tossed her ball out. Solene emerged in a beam of pink light.

Fancy

its glassy pieces of it

The two it/it’s feel redundant

They were soon trapped in a dance, Ange shooting flames left and right, while the Excadrill did what it could to avoid another burn.

YES. Dance/battling metaphors good.

"That's iron head!" Odette yelled.

I noticed that moves were capitalized at first, only for that trend to suddenly drop.

"Holy shit!"

"What magnitude was that? I've never seen such a dead aim!"

So it’s not Earthquake and instead Magnitude?

Odette hadn't known earthquake to cause recoil damage like that. Then again, she hadn't seen such a powerful use of it like that before. Maybe once it reached such an intense magnitude, the 'mon got affected as well?

Or, perhaps...

Life Orb maybe. Or that one ability whose name escapes me.

It was going for Ange. Ange was out. Why would it--?!

Oh shoot

"KkkkkkkkkYUUU!" he spat.

My mind read that and immediately thought “oh that’s

In a burst of speed Odette would have never expected from a Conkeldurr whipped around to face Loïc and slammed one of its rocks down on top of him.

The phrasing of this sentence is a bit weird. I would rephrase it as:

In a burst of speed Odette would have never expected from a Conkeldurr, it whipped around to face Loïc and slammed one of its rocks down on top of him.

Dorien was in the shiny trade. Shinies were the ones showing up in sacrilege cases the most. Sacrilege had exploded onto the battle scene, and had caused some Pokemon to do some...horrid things. Like eat their opponents, and display unnatural levels of power.

Oh shit.

As the doll his the floor

*hit

He had to be drugging his 'mon. That wasn't paranoia, was it? It couldn't have been. There was something wrong with those Pokemon.

X Items:

It's shallow breaths

"It's" should be "its"

She watched as Excadrill ceased in its dodging to stare Ange down. Ange held its gaze, rocking slightly from side to side, waiting for a retaliation. It crouched before running.

The changing of pronouns with Ange feels a bit weird, and it caused me to confuse Ange's movements with Excadrills.

The battle scene flowed like a river. good stuff.

On a more personal note, tonight I had to go to an extended family event, meaning I had to deal with loud noises and conversations and people, which is ahhhhhh. The thing that got me through it was Odette whispering in my head things like "Look in the mirror, kid. You're a bad bitch. You're the baddest bitch. You can do this." Honestly, it got me through the night. So um... thanks.

 

[kintsugi]

(for the purposes of event monitoring / hi pav! I have technically reviewed a chapter with the same chapter number (nine) offsite. that chapter has since been entirely rewritten and this review is commenting on the new stuff + has no overlapping content from the old review. you can do a comparison on the two chapter versions to see that they're substantially different, and you can do a comparison on the two reviews to see that this one is entirely different, because unlike the other review this one is not long enough to merit a table of contents. also tbh I'm already ineligible for prizes anyway SO.)

hi sind!

I do want to open this up by saying I think your editing turnaround is insane on these; the amount of new material in this on such a short turnaround is really impressive. Editing is a scary beast but in this case I think it really, really worked to your favor. I had a great time on this chapter! At some point I'll probably re-read the story to get a sense for the revised timeline/new things here, but in general I started with chapter 9 since 9/10 are the ones that were most dramatically affected by everything, I think.

The scene-setting for this felt a lot more natural; I think you did a great job of establishing location and environmental stuff a lot better. I really appreciated the escalation from "look at these guys in dinky parasols" to Odette numbly watching a live auction to Desmocula. It's a great boiling of the frog and the running theme of Odette realizing she's getting waaaay too deep really hits a lot better here, culminating with her going completely off the deep end. Venira!! I think you do a really good job portraying the out-of-body experience there; we get a feeling that something's absolutely wrong (tbh even before the whole crying and blood), but we don't fully understand why yet. Dorien's reaction is also really intriguing. I know the dude's up to no good, but this is the first time we really see him break character and ask Odette for something because she's got something he wants, which is a great reversal of their dynamic (where she's been relying on him).

I. Am in. Control, she had to keep repeating to herself. This is an act, and it's not real. You are playing a part.

Speaking of the sleazebag. I think the revisions to their dynamic, the whole alluding to the lesser of two evils, trying to fake a smile--these are all really great changes. Well. Not great. But great. It's a lot more clear what Odette's after in this chapter and the lengths to which she's willing to go to achieve it, and it's a lot easier to understand when she does slip up because it's clear that she's been having to bottle up so much that it's finally just boiling over, instead of her just saying fuck it right from the start. It really makes the chapter a lot more snappy and keeps the stakes high throughout, because you get to juggle this constant "even when I win I'm losing" tension and every interaction starts to feel like a downhill battle. Odette definitely still feels very impulsive ("if someone dies or tries to shoot us, we'll dip" lmao), but I think in this version there's a lot more understanding that she's trying not to + she's aware of what's at stake, and it makes her motivations feel a lot more coherent as a result.

Odette was asking Enora--and her entire team--to put themselves in a situation where they might watch her get hurt again.

In general I think the Enora conversation flows a lot better, too + feels a lot less coercive. I wish the conclusion here was a little more self-aware. She's not just asking Enora to watch Odette get hurt again; she's asking Enora to be put at risk of falling into a pretty similar situation that Odette was in, tbh--I don't really think there's a 1:1 human analogue for evolution coercion but it is basically someone permanently stripping away your bodily autonomy in a way that would probably be hugely traumatizing. And of course Odette's doing everything to make sure that doesn't happen, but imo especially since it opens up with the auction it's pretty clear that Enora's in a lot more danger here than Odette, and in generally is being treated a lot differently? This is a room of people who are buying and selling people like Enora; it's basically targeted human trafficking, and Enora/Odette really don't know what rules these guys play by. I'm actually not quite sure where Odette really thinks anyone is going to watch her get hurt again--as far as she knows, she's not in any physical danger, right?

(But also, characters don't really have to be self-aware; that's pretty logical and Odette's firmly in the Good Decisions Only Club, so if she were a little misjudging here I'd get that. But as it's presented I'm not entirely sure if this is Odette projecting (from the very real and very traumatizing experiences that she's had) or not.)

"That's weird," Noel said, tapping his phone screen aggressively. "It's telling me my camera app's disabled here."

The hints to the global conspiracy, yes, excellent. This is a horrifying implication and I hope that the solution is that Odette realizes she's completely fucked because if you live in a technocracy and a police surveillance state that controls the media, you literally can't win. Shitposts aside I think this helps ground that Odette's not entirely insane for jumping to ridiculous conclusions about media/government/police overreach; this feels a lot less conspiracy-theory and a lot more just, here's compelling evidence for a ridiculous observation.

(but will she think to bring a non-IOT camera for her next attempt at whisteblowing?)

Overall, I thought this chapter was a lot of fun. Things definitely built towards a more clear goal, and looping back towards the sin pokemon with Desmocula is a great way to keep the story focused on the main plot, imo.

in conclusion:

Clovis picked his up, nodding in thanks to the man, before quirking a brow at the latter two drinks.

"Thirsty?" he queried.

YEAH SHE IS

some grammar notes:

Spoiler

We don't see a lot of the Eevee's around here

Sylveons, Espeons, and Umbreons

I won't really die on the hill of how to pluralize pokemon names, but I'd recommend going for consistency--so either "Eevees, Slyveons" or "Eevee's, Sylveon's"

The commotion caused her fight-or-flight flared up, and she was suddenly conflicted on what to do.

These feel a bit redundant--fight-or-flight implies conflicted.

As soon as the crowd had piped up, they retreated back into themselves

You'll want "as quickly" here--"as soon" implies an immediate action, whereas "as quickly" implies the same amount of time.

Is that really where his head was?

Was that really where his head was?

She inhaled deeply, trying to ward off the tickle in her back. Focus. She needed to focus. "Don't get ahead of yourself, I just turned 22," she warned, letting the seriousness leak into her tone. But, she smacked him playfully on the chest, and reeled herself back. "Though, every day with him feels like a breath of fresh air, and we haven't even been together that long. I could parse a wedding relatively soon, maybe."

I definitely overuse the word "parse" so I'm the last person allowed to judge you for this, but I don't think it works here. It mostly means to analyze/to understand/to intake.

(but also, yay acting! and eww acting!)

Every big fortune needs and heir.

Every big fortune needs an heir.

"1.4 Million for the Spinda?"

"I'll do $1.7 Million.

I think in general you don't capitalize numbers (i.e. "million") unless there's like, a specific currency that's also called Million, but that seems really silly. Also errant $ on the second one. In general I don't think you put $ in dialogue since it's implied/non-spoken.

she saw hundreds of more shinies than she had at the gala

she saw hundreds more shinies than she had at the gala

As she made her rounds with Dorien upon arriving, she'd bore witness to numerous impromptu auctions, just like the one right next to her.

she'd borne witness

"Sorry about that. Us traders tend to get a little overzealous," he said. He sounded as sincere as he had when he calmed everyone down. As he spoke, a man in a vest sauntered by with a tray of white wine, and Dorien held a hand out to snap at him.

I didn't quite follow the action here--he goes off to get wine, comes back empty-handed, and then snaps at the waiter? I imagine he's doing his nefarious shit in the meantime, but then why return just to blatantly draw attention that you didn't do the thing you left to do?

(Maybe he comments on how those lazy waitstaff are nowhere to be found, oh, there's one right here, snap snap)

Saying that out loud made her furrow her brows. None of her Pokemon were drinkers, except for Isaur.

"brow" means "forehead" in the context of furrowing it--I do not think you have plural brows (although you have plural eyebrows)

they were now conversing in a vast, and exquisitely kept garden

they were now conversing in a vast and exquisitely-kept garden

He'd barely left her alone since they'd arrived, and if she was going to continue swallowing her rage, she needed a break.

really esoteric tense shit but I think you want

if she were to continue swallowing her rage, she'd need a break.

Solene was wary, Enora was almost vehemently opposed.

Solene was wary; Enora was almost vehemently opposed.

(imo you can drop the "almost" here, since it's pretty clear that she's vehemently against it)

"So, how about this," she offered. "If things start getting bad. If Dorien gets too handsy, if somebody pulls out a gun, if somebody we converse with dies...we pull out. Wipe our hands clean, forget it happened." She dusted her hands off and held them out to her sides. "And if that still isn't enough, then...I don't need to involve you. I don't want to make you do something you're that reluctant to do."

I like the sentiment of offering Enora to choose, but I think it'd be more powerful if she also offers it before anyone pulls a gun or does things that cross Odette's line. "You can leave after the line I set" isn't quite a fair choice imo--that's just being slightly nicer about setting rules than the next person. I think something that's closer to "I don't want to make you do something you're that reluctant to do. I already set my lines. If things start getting bad [...] if somebody we converse with dies, I'm out. We'd wipe our hands clean, forget it happened. But that's my line. If you want to leave before that, I won't stop you." would make it more clear that this is Enora's choice. Otherwise, it feels more like Odette's putting down rules and everyone else just has to follow them, and the offer's not really an arguable offer.

Clovis sent her a hard, piercing look. "Sort of, yes." Another drag from the cigarette. He'd sucked it down almost half-way. "The point I'm trying to make," he said as he exhaled. "Is that you care about your Pokemon. Isaur very clearly has a bond with you, and the fact that you're simply letting Enora sit next to you on the stool says everything. You're a sane person who thinks of Pokemon as equal and not money machines."

I like the broad-strokes change in the actress scene here. I think the really intense praise that he gives her for caring about her pokemon rings a little hollow in light of Odette's conscious realization that she's been ignoring Enora's feelings--it doesn't make Odette not care about her pokemon ofc, but it does feel strange after the most recent emotional conflict being about her realizing she hasn't been caring about Enora. And the points that he cites as evidence for her caring is that she "lets" Enora sit on a chair--which, yes, way better than everyone else here, but not really pinnacle "caring" lol--imagine if that was the metric we used to determine if we cared deeply for humans. So it's kind of like when videogames heap praise on you for doing the basic tutorial level and being like "no one in this world could jump over three sticks; you are the chosen one"; it's weird to get a lot of recognition when you know you aren't really at your best yet.

Maybe he just asks Enora tbh?
"The point I'm trying to make is that ... well, do you want to be here?"
[and maybe move the resolution to Enora/Odette's argument here, have Enora make the realization here that this is a chance to help people, so that when she agrees it feels less like it's just Odette talking to her in the moment and more that it's been something she's been considering] "Vee!"
"No shiny pokemon would choose to walk in here unless they really cared. She's here for you." Pause, cigarette. "And you wouldn't invite her to sit next to you and listen to her opinion unless you cared for her too." < idk really cheesey but something closer to that might feel a bit more earned + provide a bit better basis for what "care" actually means

She'd wanted to walk by the lake, but a lot of people seemed to be down there, in spite of the "Beware of Gyarados!" signs positioned all around the perimeter. None of them appeared to care though.

"none of them appeared to care" and "in spite of" feel at odds here

She began to wonder if there had ever been an attack at a gathering like this?

You'll want a period instead of question mark.

Somebody would have to call the Pokemon rangers to revive it, and she started to wonder if any of these rich bastards would.

Are pokemon not able to recover from fainting on their own? As a game mechanic that makes sense, but translated directly into the real world that'd be kind of horrifying tbh.

Her thoughts and the ringing were abruptly interrupted by her own voice.

This is a cool sentiment.

She trailed off just in time for Dorien to jog back over from wherever he'd gone. He kneeled in front of her, and it was now evident he'd been the one that ran off to get water, because he was holding a full glass.

Dorien doesn't seem to be in the beginning of this scene, so it's weird to specify that he's jogging back from wherever he'd gone. I think it'd be a bit more clear as:

She trailed off just in time for Dorien to jog up, holding a full glass of water. He kneeled in front of her.

 

[Ryoma Maser]

So hi, here for the review event going on and was interested in reading this so here I am.

This will review cover the prologue and the first two chapters.

Prologue:
So what I gather here is that some form of Galarian royalty has control of the Pokémon that represent the seven deadly sins, interesting. Honestly for me at least, there is not much to gather here except that this royalty has a new child but they're illegitimate and he must now get rid of them to the one who represents Gluttony? It's kinda cliché in my opinion minus the sins part, that there is now someone who can threaten the throne but it could be interesting considering how much can be throw into the loop.

Chapter 1:
-Kinda of a jarring change here from the prologue but that means someone here is related to the above. My money is on Noel instead of the more obvious Odette, while the latter is moving to Alola which would explain possibly being a need to be as far from Galar as possible. Noel does mention having a sister in Galar which Odette doesn't bring up, only her grandparents and mother (plus two last names). I guess I should stop the conspiracy theory board.
-Okay with all this theater stuff off the bat and Odette being named Odette, if this isn't doesn't have some form of Swan Lake inspirations and reference to the ballet in here I will riot. What? I love the anime Princess Tutu which is based on the play which led me to looking up stuff about the ballet.
-Wait, the Simisear try to take a gun!? Man, it did not take it well when it was announced it was the least liked Pokémon.
-Just casually interested in drug cases, well guess if you have a cop in the family it happens.
-Hm, Shiny are in high demand by the black market. Honestly, what I expected to happen in a more realistic Poké-world.
-Rich people, assholes no matter who they are.

What was the reason for keeping that information from the public? Hell, why was the majority of affected Pokemon shiny?

Well, legally they can't tell everything to the public. For the purpose of the story, they some complicated reason they can't tell even though for all sense they should. The reason their shiny, the Shiny Hunters are out for blood?
-References to something, broken bird Odette never to take the stage again.
-No Odette, you don't want to be the next Diantha. Diantha literally ditch the whole region in peril despite being champion!
-Purrloins the Musical? I don't want flashbacks about Cats and I didn't even see either version.
-Yeah tell her Odetta, eight hours of sleep rock.
-Two choices for a fresh start in Alola, league or back to the world of Dance.

Chapter 2:
-Odette drives a motorcycle! She would fit right in at Orre! Send her there instead, she could get a hoverbike!
-No Odette! Don't fall into road rage!
-Theater kids, always practicing everywhere. I once thought a fight broke out at my university, but no it was the theater kids practicing real loudly.
-School, we never help, we makes things worse give us all your money.
-Hm, interesting Pokémon Odette keeps. Gothitelle is a strange one to see but one I'm glad to see nonetheless.
-Also, she really shouldn't have her Pokémon in charge of packing.
-Her Mimikyu is a imposter! There's an imposter among us. I really did make that joke, I am sorry. Vents away.
-They were playing Monopoly? Odette just lucky they weren't playing Mario Party, then the apartment would be destroyed.
-Chaos is everywhere and you can never escape it.

And that's where I ended up. I am excited to see where this going, I am hoping for the Swan Lake stuff you can't keep teasing me like this. I am loving Odette and I can't wait to see more of her, you've got something going here and now I know why everyone is enamored. Keep up the great work!!

 

[Sinderella]

Chapter 10 - She's Unabashedly Nosy...and Sick

Spoiler: Content Warning(s)

CWs: Strong Language

“Do you have any sixes?” Acadia asked.

“Go fish,” Noel replied.

Acadia clicked her tongue as she dove her hand into the haphazard card pile scattered around the coffee table. She was careful as she picked up a card because Enora was curled up under the glass, sound asleep.

Odette laughed hoarsely from her spot on the couch. She sniffled as she nuzzled into her blanket, adjusting her head against her pillow. “You’ve been looking for a six this whole game.”

“Noel, there’s no way you haven’t gotten a six by now,” Acadia said.

“I don’t know what to tell you, sis,” he snickered. “Try asking around.”

On either side of him, Ange and Elton sat with their own cards in hand.

“Chande,” Ange declared.

“I’m trying to take a six specifically from Noel. I’m giving Odette a break because she’s sick,” Acadia announced.

“How thoughtful,” Odette said flatly.

As she spoke, thunder shook the townhouse, and everyone in the living room looked toward the window. It was absolutely pouring outside, and there was no indication that it would let up anytime soon.

“Hope nobody was planning on going anywhere today,” Noel said.

“I was hoping to go for a jog, actually,” Odette said jokingly.

“Right, right. And I'm the Queen of Galar,” Acadia shot back, a half-grin tugging at her lips. “How are you feeling?”

That was a loaded question. Ever since she’d been discharged from the hospital two days ago, she’d had so much on her mind she could barely see straight. Of course, as luck would have it, the hospital cleared her as okay to go home the day she’d arrived, but she contracted a fever that same night. She felt so ill, she couldn’t think about anything but how bad she felt.

Bernard and Marieanne, ever the worrywarts in regard to her health, insisted she stay with them, as Vienna had run out on an emergency research retreat and wouldn't be home quickly enough. So, Odette had spent the last 48 hours in their guest bedroom bed, groaning loudly and sleeping.

“The same,” she answered. “No worse, no better.”

“We’ll take that,” Noel said. “Your turn Ange.”

Before Ange could ask for his card, footsteps sounded from the hallway leading to the kitchen. Marieanne emerged, decked out in a full apron and grasping a thermometer. She was done up with a full face of makeup, even though she didn't have work today, but that wasn't necessarily out of character. She always needed to "look her best," as she insisted.

Solene was at her heels, grasping the handle of a wooden spoon, which happened to be in Isaur’s mouth. As they stopped, Solene glared at Isaur as she wiggled the spoon. The froslass didn’t budge.

“Aaaaaaalright, temperature check time, Swanna,” Marieanne said, stepping around the coffee table and over to the couch. She sat down on the edge of it and stuck the thermometer into Odette’s ear. She held it there until it beeped, then examined the result. A frown crossed her lips, and she exhaled sharply.

“This damn thing won’t break. Still a hundred and two. You poor baby.”

“Maybe soup will help,” Odette suggested, closing her eyes.

Marieanne gave a nod. “Came out to say it should be ready in 30 minutes or so, so I hope you kiddos are hungry.”

“Thaaaaaaanks Mama Marieanne,” Noel and Acadia said in unison.

“Anything for you kids,” she beamed. A thought then occurred to her, and she turned back to Odette. “Oh! By the way, before I forget. Two things. First, where's Loïc? I haven’t seen him all day.”

Ange snickered loudly and had to bury his face in his cards to keep his volume down. Odette sent him a look before rolling her eyes.

“Do you have a vent system?” she asked.

“Yeah, I thought you knew that,” Marieanne said.

Odette didn’t verbally respond. Instead, she just held her hands out to her sides. Luckily, Marieanne understood, and she just huffed.

“Should have guessed. Alright, second thing. Have you seen the kitchen phone? Can't find the stupid thing anywhere."

“Nana, this is the first time I’ve left the guest room in two days,” Odette said.

“Dammit, Bernard," she groaned. "He never puts the phones back. He's in for it after that damn work call.”

Despite her brief bout of aggravation, Marieanne clapped her hands together, then stood up. “Alright, that’s all from me. Don’t let me interrupt your game. I’m gonna go…clean something. Storms like this make me antsy.”

Marieanne made her way back toward the kitchen and motioned for Solene and Isaur to follow. Solene had to yank Isaur along by the spoon, but they all soon disappeared down that hall.

“Shit, they still have a landline? Boomers,” Noel giggled, flipping through his cards.

Acadia lowered her brows and shot him an unamused glance. “I still have a landline.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a boomer in a twenty-something’s body. That’s not necessarily shocking.”

Acadia reeled her hand back and landed a sound smack on Noel’s bare shoulder. He flinched on contact, then began to rub his now-inflamed skin. “Ma’am, do you know what a damn joke is?”

While Odette was in no condition to be bantering at full energy with her friends, it was nice to have them here to keep her company. She had Marieanne and Bernard around, but being that she’d already missed a few days of rehearsal, witnessing the Noel versus Acadia spats made it feel like she wasn’t fully out of the loop.

As she thought about that, she pushed the blanket off her lap and swung her legs to the floor. Cautiously, she stood, allowing herself to regain her balance slowly.

“Oh, going on that jog?” Noel queried.

“Yes, to the bathroom. Unless you want me to pee all over the couch.”

“Well, you’re sick. You can do whatever you want when you’re sick. The world’s your cloyster.”

“I don’t think urinating on a couch is part of that,” Acadia said, cringing.

Odette shook her head before she hobbled her way toward the foyer bathroom. As she finished up her business and tiredly washed her hands, she found herself eyeing her reflection in the mirror. She really took in her pallor complexion and tired eyes.

“Gods, I look like hot garbage,” she said.

Skrtskrtskrtskrtskrtskrtskrt.

She knit her brows together, turning to look over her shoulder for the source of the noise. It sounded distant initially, but the longer she listened, the closer it got. She craned her neck to look up at the ceiling, then the wall, where her gaze caught on a vent grate. Upon seeing it, her shoulders deflated, and she pressed her lips together, forming a knowing expression.

A few seconds after she looked at the grate, it popped open, and Loïc reared his rambunctious fake head.

“Loïc,” she said, sounding stern even with the hoarseness in her voice. “Just because we’re not at home, and I’m sick, doesn’t mean you’re suddenly allowed to crawl in the fucking vents.”

“Kyyuuuu.”

He hopped out of the opening and floated down to the floor. Upon landing, he whipped around to stare up at her. There was something about him that felt different. His eyes were bright, and he was pulsing up and down in his spot. He actually looked rather excited.

“What were you even doing up there?” She felt minutely curious about what had him in such a good mood. Normally, he didn’t get like that unless he smelled pecha.

She began to feel lightheaded from standing, so she decided it’d be a good idea to get down on his level. She slowly sank to the floor and leaned against the cabinet.

“Keeee,” Loïc chirped.

In a small shadowy wave, his hands manifested. He reached one under his cloak and withdrew none other than the MIA kitchen phone. Odette took one look at it, then glared at him.

“Very funny,” she exhaled. “I hope you know you made Nana mad at Grandpa.”

Loïc quickly shook his head and used one of his hands to press down on the “answer” button.

Instead of a dial tone, like she was expecting to hear, she heard talking. Bernard talking.

Narrowing her eyes, she slowly picked the phone up and held it to her ear.

“I just don’t understand the sudden concern. It-it doesn't make sense to me.”

“There’s a variety of things that have happened that have caused us to become quite worried.”

Clovis.

That was Clovis’s voice.

Her breath hitched, and she cut her gaze back down to Loïc. His fake tail was wagging happily, like that of a gleeful yamper.

"You sneaky sonofabitch," she mouthed at him. And here she'd been, thinking the only things on his mind were berries and hiding the Monopoly pieces around the house.

Loïc jostled his head in response.

An abundance of thanks was in store, but she gestured for him to come over. Loïc didn’t hesitate to scurry up her torso and perch himself on her shoulder to listen in as well.

“Let me get this straight. She decided to research you, and she had a questionable run-in with a blood type. Do those things warrant Virtue Corps’ full eyes and ears?"

"Blood-type?" she mouthed, hoping that would commit the term to her wavering memory. What the hell did that mean? What even was her blood type? She hadn't bothered visiting the doctor for a while before her recent episode and that wasn't something she bothered to commit to memory. O something, maybe...

That couldn't have been what they were talking about, though. Bernard said it like it was a Pokemon typing. Blood type. It sounded absolutely absurd until she dwelled on it a little more.

Those grotesque Pokemon. All three times she'd seen them summoned, their owners...trainers? Owners? She didn't know what to call it anymore. Their owners always bit their thumbs to draw blood. That seemed to be the thing that powered them up. Or made them spawn altogether?

Furrowing her brow, she scratched her cheek pensively. Is that what they were? Is that why she'd never heard of them? Were they just a whole new type?

More importantly, what the hell did they have to do with shinies and running them absolutely ragged? And how long had Bernard known about them?

What did that have to do with the voice she heard?

At that moment, thunder rocked the building again. She cringed at the noise and yanked the phone away from her ear to cover it with her hand. Loïc even darted his hand over, too. When she was sure it had passed, she started listening again.

“If you want my honest opinion? Yes. Given that uncanny resemblance we spoke about before, these happenings are just a little too nefarious for us just to let slip by," Clovis had just started speaking.

"And can you confirm it had nothing to do with Enora?"

What?

"Enora was nowhere near her when it happened. Then again, I wasn't close enough to see what happened, either. But, desmocula fled, and she just...fell. Cut her cheek too, I guess?"

"She didn't have a cut on her cheek."

Silence swelled on the line, and it made her nervous. She held her breath, even though she wanted to yell out.

WHAT?

It was eventually broken by Clovis sighing.

"I don't know. I don't know what to tell you right now," he said. "It happened so fast, and we don't have enough information. That's all I have until I can talk to her. Maybe get some of our people to talk to her."

"You told me we wouldn't get to that point if you could prove she wasn't involved in this in the way you thought."

“I really am sorry, Bernard. I honestly thought I had this laid out, but I was wrong."

“I told you she wouldn’t get involved in the trade, not Odette,” Bernard said angrily. “She loves her partners to death, and they love her.”

Yes, tell him that. Let him hear it. The thought managed to break through every other thing rattling around in her head.

“And I see that now,” Clovis replied apologetically. "But now we've uncovered something big--"

"I know it's bigger. I know you can't tell me what it is right now. What I do know is I wish you'd just left her alone."

"And let this fall unnoticed?"

More silence. A very long, drawn-out sigh followed. "No. I know you didn't have a choice. I just--"

"I understand, Bernard," Clovis said.

"She's gone through so much in the last year, and I--"

"You don't need to explain it to me, sir. I get it."

Odette shifted uncomfortably in her spot, saying an internal prayer that that conversation would drop. She felt like she would have to hang up if it didn't.

"Let's start over," Bernard said. "Tell me again, slower this time, what happened leading up to her fainting."

“I had tried to bait something out of her, but all I got was that she caught my slip and read into it.”

She narrowed her eyes at nothing. That fucking scoundrel. It was bait? He was baiting her? Well, she supposed she couldn't be too bitter at that. He evidently got a lot more than he bargained for in that conversation, which she decided was enough to sate her pettiness.

“That’s Odette. If she finds something that doesn’t make sense, she’ll look into it herself,” Bernard said, though it sounded more like a warning than a statement. “What does she know? Why would she want to look into you in the first place? That part I still can't understand.”

There wasn’t an immediate answer. Clovis must have been thinking of how to respond. “She was very conservative in telling me that much. And I didn’t press because it would have been risky, and I’ve put myself in a weird spot as it is,” he started. “But it’s like I told you, she’s trying to get to the bottom of the sacrilege and shiny trade issue. She didn’t say why though. However, judging by her verbiage, she knows the connection between the two. She might have looked into me for multiple reasons, namely that battle at the gala. But I’d also say it’s mostly because I’m a fucking imbecile.”

“You just panicked,” Bernard said sympathetically. “It happens to the best of us.”

“I’m not one of ‘us,’ Bernard. We talked about this. I just got a little too...overzealous talking to her.” The annoyance was clear-cut behind his words. “I fucked up."

“And that’s not like you. You’re normally on top of it, but nobody’s perfect. You’re lucky it was so small, and you have the status to combat it if need be.”

A rancorous laugh. “I don’t know what happened. Odette’s just--”

“Off-limits,” Bernard asserted. His words fired like bullets.

Odette bristled. "Odette's just what?" she mouthed as she pulled the phone away from her ear to stare at it incredulously. "Odette's. Just. Fucking. What?"

She exhaled in frustration, masking her intense desire to scream into the phone, and held it back to her ear.

“Right,” Clovis grumbled after what was most likely a long pause. “How is she? I heard that the shock wore off before they even made it to the hospital.”

Don't answer that, Grandpa, she begged internally. Please, please, please do not answer that. You've done enough; spare me.

“It’s happened before,” Bernard huffed. “She’s had issues with her blood pressure since she was little. Sometimes it dips, and sometimes it gets really bad. Then, it clears up, and she’s sick for a few days afterward.”

She stifled a groan and resisted the urge to bang her already throbbing head against the cabinet. The feeling of embarrassment was building up within her at an alarming rate. Did he really need to know all of this? Did Clovis really need to be made aware of her health problems? If she'd had things her way, she probably would have never told him. It just wasn't a conversation that needed to be had.

“And you said this happens a lot?”

“I said it used to happen a lot,” Bernard recalled. “A couple of times a month when she was younger. Not always to the point where she needed to be hospitalized, but often enough to where it was concerning. It’s not as frequent now, though. This is this first bout in…months, I’d say.”

Gods, she wanted to tell Bernard to shut up. It was bad enough that she'd fainted in front of Clovis, but now he knew the extent of why it happened in the first place. Would something like that be considered a turn-off?

Her thoughts were getting out of hand, sick or not.

Focus.

“Uh huh,” Clovis said tentatively. “Noted.”

Her stomach dropped. Why did he say it like that? What was there to make a note of? "Be careful around this girl, she might pass out on me"? Forget yelling and screaming; she wanted to break the fucking phone.

She didn't really know why she felt so aggravated about the conversation. It wasn't like she had a chance with Clovis in the first place, especially with him thinking she was dating Dorien. Or, maybe he knew she was faking it? Maybe that would be something he asked her about. That had to have been a turn-off, seeing somebody so convincingly act in love when they were very much not...

Fo-cus.

Bernard gave a very gruff sigh. “She’s had enough scrutiny to last her the rest of her life. She doesn’t need anymore.”

“I understand, Chief, but this is out of fear for her safety and not out of a desire to scrutinize her,” Clovis said earnestly. “Thankfully, our hypothesis about her trying to get involved in the trade was wrong, but now, the way things have been playing out, I am extremely concerned, as is everyone else.”

“So then, what’s the next move?” Bernard asked.

“She has questions for me, and I for her,” Clovis said, his tone direct. “I’ll have to reach out sometime after she recovers from her illness to schedule a meeting, but I plan to gauge how much she’s found out and, well...answer her honestly.”

At least she heard straight from the source that she wouldn't get bogus answers when they spoke. That did something to ease her racing brain, if only for now.

“I sound like a broken record. I hate this. I didn't want her involved,” Bernard said darkly.

“It’s a little too late for that,” Clovis said, matching his mood. “She seems to be diving into this on her own accord. At least now, Virtue Corp can back her up if she needs it.”

“I cannot have her getting hurt. Not after--”

“Bernard,” Clovis said, cutting him off again. “You have my word. I will do whatever is in my power to ensure nothing happens to her from here on out. And, I’m sure you know this, but Odette seems quite sharp if you don't mind me being frank,” he said, chuckling as the words came out of his mouth. “Regardless, I will be over her shoulder every step of the way, and if things start to look too risky, we’ll pull her. That’s my promise to you.”

“...make sure Noel’s with her too. It would make me feel better to know she’s not diving into these events alone. I’m sure Noel had something to do with it if she's informed. He’s savvy himself,” Bernard said reluctantly.

Clovis chuckled again. “We’re one step ahead of you on that, sir."

“And...if it can be helped, I don’t want her to know about my involvement thus far. At least, not now,” Bernard added.

“The best I can do is hope she hasn’t dug that deep, then,” Clovis noted half-jokingly.

Odette cringed.

A louder sigh from Bernard. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well, my wife’s almost done with dinner, so I should go.”

“Of course. We’ll keep in touch, and I’ll let you know when I plan to reach out to Odette.”

“Please do. Have a good evening, Clovis.”

“You as well, Chief.”

Click.

Odette exhaled the breath she didn’t know she was holding as she hung up. She leaned her head back against the cabinet, holding her hand to her burning forehead.

“What the fuck did I just listen to?” she whispered. “Holy shit.”

“Keeeee? Kyu,” Loïc said.

With a single nod, Odette half-laughed. She turned her head to look at the mimikyu, whose eyes shone triumphantly.

“You’re right,” she said. “I owe you an absurd amount of pecha berries for this.”

 

[Welkamo]

So as it turns out I read chapters 5-7 for the Bulba review event in February, but then lost my quotes, had a mental breakdown, was sad for five minutes, and then forgot I had read them until now. And then I remembered that we had a review exchange, and while I've discontinued my fic for that, I've been meaning to pay you back for like,,,,,,, everything. So here are my disjointed thoughts:

Fuck Dorien. Eat shit, Dorien. I hope he gets food poisoning from his overhyped caviar. Hate him. Hate him. He's a creep. He's a jerk. He's pretentious. He is levels of problematic heretofore unseen, so uh... mission accomplished? I stan Noel though.

I get the sneaking suspicion that Virtue Corps is like Aether Paradise, hiding dark secrets behind a pristine facade. Is this........ our way to get to Alola?

Blood battling stuff is very interesting, and even as a hemophobic coward, I am very :eyes: at the lore behind it.

Sharply dressed Quagsire are very good, thank you for this wonderful mental image.

I'm perhaps meandering a bit, but overall, I'm loving this story. I love me some Super Secret SleuthingTM.

 

[Sinderella]

Chapter 11: Roses Have Thorns

Spoiler: Content Warning(s)

CW: Strong Language

Spoiler: Author's Note

Hey all! Been a while since I updated here. A lot of changes have come to previous chapters of this fic, so feel free to read about them in the patch notes tab on the first post. Happy reading!

Odette didn’t realize she had zoned out until she was jolted from her haze by a disturbance on the stage. Her eyes were quick to lock on the left entrance, just in time to catch a couple of dancers tripping and stumbling over each other as they collectively tried to wrestle their way past some props. Props that shouldn’t have been in the way in the first place.

Abruptly sitting up in her chair, Odette frantically flipped through her clipboard as her eyes shot between the stage and her notes. She scrambled for her pen but soon found that she’d misplaced it.

Those fucking light posts. They were supposed to be on the other side, and she had cleared the scene to start.

“God dammit…” she said under her breath. She could see Ange leaning over from the chair next to hers to peer at the notes as well.

“Chande?” he whispered. Odette could only reply with a quiet, exasperated whine.

As a few dancers hit the floor, Martin held up his hand as Odette buried her face into her own with a quiet groan.

“Stop! Stop,” he shouted over the music. The orchestra came to a haphazard halt, and some concerned murmurs began to travel from those onstage.

“What’s the problem now, why are we falling?” he asked.

“There’s some set pieces blocking the way out,” somebody called back. It caused Odette to coil into herself slightly. Why? Why did her stagehands have no idea where things went until she rode their asses about it? They had one fucking job.

Then again, so did she: keeping all things onstage running smoothly. And she wasn’t keeping up. With all the week's revelations banging around in her post-sickness head, there was no room to commit any of the immediate rehearsal to mind, and she was paying the price for it.

Better own up to it than try to stop existing. The embarrassment would pass faster.

Cringing, she raised one of her hands. She kept her eyes shut, so she wouldn’t have to immediately face the annoyed looks that were undoubtedly about to be sent her way.

“My fault,” she said stiffly. “I cleared the scene; totally didn’t realize those set pieces were on the wrong side. That’s on me.”

After a second of prepping, she raised her head to meet Martin's eyes. She was somewhat thankful to see that his gaze was teetering more on the sympathetic side, but just barely. This had to have been her fourth faux pas of the day, so that was far more grace than she anticipated. The other times were her just not paying attention to the scene or calling for a blackout at the wrong time. Here, people could have actually gotten hurt.

Of course, she had the ‘I was in the ER’ card to play, but that would run dry rather quickly at the rate she was going.

“They’re supposed to be stage right,” she said, trying to confirm she knew where everything was supposed to be. His expression didn’t change too much.

“Are you sure you’re feeling better, Odette?” he asked.

Despite her efforts to keep her expression neutral, she couldn’t stop pressing her lips together. “Yes,” she said evenly. Perhaps that was true on a physical scale, but mentally? Well, she wouldn’t get into that. “I wouldn’t have come back yet if I wasn’t.”

“Lure!” Ange said for good measure.

Martin sighed. “I am all for giving you the benefit of the doubt right now, but I know you’re better than this. I need you to step up your game because these things cannot happen at the point we’re at.”

She exhaled as silently as she could before nodding once in agreement. “I understand, sir. I’ll get it together.”

She wasn’t sure how confident she was in that sentiment. But, thankfully, the conversation ended there. Attention went back to restarting the scene, with those pieces moving to where they were supposed to be. As everyone returned to their spots onstage, Odette caught sight of Noel sauntering back to his place. Before he made it offstage, he looked out into the house of empty seats and at her. Her shoulders deflated as their eyes met, and he motioned his hands over his chest.

“Breathe,” he mouthed.

All she could do was shrug. She wished it were that simple. At the very least, she’d managed to make it through that reprimand with most of her psyche still intact.

“Chandeluuuuure?” Ange asked tentatively. He floated up behind her and landed his tendrils on her shoulders, where he began to rub at them gingerly. Some soothing heat carried from his touch, causing Odette to lean her head back blissfully.

“I don’t think this is going to do much to make me concentrate better, but you have the touch of an angel,” she said.

“Chaaaaandeeeeluuureeee,” Ange hummed.

“And how would you propose I focus myself?”

She didn’t get an answer. In fact, she felt Ange’s hands leave her skin entirely. She picked her head up and peered over her shoulder to find that he’d disappeared. She slowly began to look around, and no sooner had she turned to look over her other shoulder did she find the ghost poking his head up from behind a chair four rows back. The flame on his head brightened as he held up her missing pen.

“De-lure!” he called triumphantly. The previous conversation had seemingly left his mind because now all he appeared to be concerned about was balancing the found pen on his lips.

Odette decided it would be best not to call out the irony. Ange having an emotional outburst right now was the last thing she needed. “Wow. Wonder how that got all the way over there?”

She didn’t get the answer to her rhetorical question before the music started up again. As she took another levelling breath, she zeroed in on what was going on onstage again. The scene played out, and soon Noel made his way back onstage for his part. His voice carried clearly through the house, and instinctively, she started humming along with the tune as she settled back into her backrest. She felt Ange’s presence manifest next to her again but was too engrossed in the performance to acknowledge him.

“His manner is vague and aloof,” Noel sang. He held the same conviction he normally did. “You would think there was nobody shyer, but his voice has been heard on the roof—”

He paused, not normally a spot one would do so in the song. The silence stretched on and on and on, and Noel suddenly became stiff. It soon became very apparent to Odette what was happening.

“When he curled up by the fire,” she muttered to herself as her face scrunched into another cringe.

“Stop.”

Again, the music ceased. Martin sighed again. This time, it sounded borderline angry.

“When he curled up by the fire,” he said with a groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The tension deflated from Noel’s shoulders, and he bowed his head apologetically.

“Right,” Noel said with an embarrassed smile. “I knew that.”

“I thought you knew that,” Martin said dubiously. “But this is the third time today you’ve missed that line. What is going on with you all?”

Odette could see the momentary grimace that creased Noel’s face. It quickly faded out, replaced by a sheepish smile.

“Didn’t sleep well last night,” he said.

“Well, how about we take our first break early today so everyone can screw their heads on tighter. Be back in fifteen.”

The mass dispersion happened all at once, and even though the other actors, extras, and crew crowded to get off the stage, Odette watched as Noel hung his head for a beat before looking over at her again. She took that as an invitation to go to him, leaving Ange to fret with the pen alone for the time being.

“Shyer rhymes with—” she began when they met up backstage.

“Fire,” Noel finished raising his hands toward her. “I know. I know. I’m getting torn up by the lyricist enough today.”

Her gaze on him softened. Looking at him up close, it was apparent that he was very much in distress. His brows were knit so tightly she was certain a wrinkle would be left behind, and his jaw was clenched. A cursory glance downward also confirmed that his right hand was balled into a white-knuckled fist, which was the absolute tell.

“A lot on your mind?” she asked.

“What was your first clue?”

She sighed deeply, then turned on her heel to walk deeper into the backstage area. She didn’t bother to motion for Noel to follow her because he wordlessly fell into step at her side. She soon stopped in a hallway that led to the practice rooms, which seemed mostly empty, so she settled for leaning against one of the walls and sliding down to sit. Noel took to doing the same thing right across from her.

They stared at each other in silence for a long, long while. Odette couldn’t read minds, but she could tell by the way Noel occasionally moved his eyes up to the ceiling that he was, at the very least, trying to mull through some stuff in his mind.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said quietly.

“Have you heard anything?”

She pursed her lips as she zeroed in on the silent phone in her pocket.

“From who?”

“Who do you think?”

Well, that was an easy answer. Clovis apparently kept his word on contacting her after her recovery because she hadn’t heard from him the entire week she sat home trying to sweat out that fever. No amount of phone babysitting and girlishly praying willed him to send her a text. Surely Bernard had told him that the fever had broken two days ago.

But there still hadn’t been any notification from him. Not even a “Hi, just making sure you still have this number saved.” She’d have much rather had Clovis endlessly fretting over her than who actually was.

She felt RotomPhone vibrate and couldn’t help but groan. She fished it out and was as dismayed as she was unsurprised to see yet another text from Dorien. The third one since she woke up that morning and maybe the thousandth that week.


I hope you’re having a good day so far! I have a little something headed to you that’ll hopefully make you smile


She ground her teeth together. Somehow, that only made her want to go home more because gods only knew what that meant. Even as her annoyance and dread skyrocketed, she stuck to the same routine she’d kept with to keep him at bay: five words and an emoticon. That’s all she had the energy for.


I’ll be on the lookout


“Crickets,” she said dismissively as she pushed send.

Silence followed. Surely this wasn’t the place to be discussing such matters. It was dangerous enough that they’d gone at it in the dressing room—one never knew where there were prying eyes or ears. Hell, considering their cameras had mysteriously stopped working when one of those blood ‘mon appeared, anything could have been possible. The impossible seemed to be at play anyway.

Clovis and Bernard knew each other. Clovis pretty much confirmed in that conversation that he was working with Virtue Corp. Virtue Corp was concerned about her because apparently they simply hadn’t been before. How long were they “investigating” her in the first place?

Judging by Bernard’s reaction, it was at least a little while. It had something to do with an “uncanny resemblance” Clovis mentioned, whatever the absolute fuck that meant. And perhaps Enora, though that seemed a lot less jarring, given how the apparent initial thought was that she wanted involvement in the shiny trade.

But, still. What had Bernard meant when he asked if the strange encounter had something to do with Enora? The more she dwelled on that throughout the week, the more the potential answers bothered her.

That book had said that shinies spawned those grotesque Pokemon—the blood types, as they were referred to on the call. They seemed to be coming out of only shinies, which is why the poor things were being bought and sold in the first place. She was certain of that, despite Clovis being a little dodgy in confirming so. She’d seen enough to know. But that being said…

Was it possible that Enora could create one of those things? Could it have been Enora that caused that voice and desmocula to flee?

Nothing about that made sense, though. Enora was nowhere near her when the encounter occurred. Not to mention, the voice she’d heard was her own, granted a quite distorted version of it. It had the same inflection and a similar vocabulary choice too. Even if there was a way for Enora to produce something like that, there’s no way she’d use such vile language. Enora was a sassy little thing, but she was no potty mouth.

But, if it wasn’t Enora, then what was it? More importantly, what did Dorien want with it so badly? He clearly knew something had happened. He was practically manic over it. Fuck, did he cause it? How would that have even worked?

She exhaled gruffly, much louder than she intended to. It caused Noel to jolt a little.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

Odette wanted to laugh. Some form of a rancorous smirk tilted her lips as she scratched her cheek. “I need an ibuprofen for this headache.”

“Seconded,” he scoffed.

Odette opened her mouth to speak again but was interrupted by the sound of manic approaching footsteps. They managed to echo over the sound of the rest of the cast and crew still lingering backstage for the break. Odette cut her eyes up just in time to see Acadia and her signature scowling face rounding the corner into the hallway they were sitting in.

“Oh goody, I was wondering where you went,” Odette said flatly, stretching her arms above her head.

“And I was wondering what the hell is up with you guys today,” Acadia snapped back. She looked at Noel before flailing her arms out to her side. Noel merely returned it with a weak grin.

“Don’t smile at me like that!” she said. “We’ve only run your part two trillion times since secondary school, so how the hell are you tripping up over words?”

Odette bit down on her tongue, resisting the dual urge to tell her to lay off him and to start laughing at the absurdity of the lecture. Oh, if only Acadia knew…

Actually. It was best if Acadia didn’t know. She was the kind of person who, if she thought any of them were doing something too dangerous, would alert a higher power about it.

Odette felt a brief pang of guilt at the sudden decision. She wasn’t somebody who liked keeping her close friends out of things this major, but…considering the gravity of the situation and considering there was a lot she and Noel didn’t know as it was, it was most likely the safest option. For now. It wasn’t like Acadia was into any sleuthing shit; she barely had the patience to complete a simple 100-piece puzzle.

Noel shrugged. “What, I’m not allowed to have a bad day? Like I didn’t catch you sickling your feet during your aerials the other day?”

Acadia stammered over her next words before she sucked in a shallow breath. She then shot a look back at Odette, who was still stretching.

“And you? I thought you had the prop placement down-packed. Are you still feeling out of it? I told you you probably should have stayed home another day.”

Odette sent Noel a very quick side-glance, which she wasn’t entirely sure he returned. Without missing a beat, she lowered her arms and crossed them over her chest.

“I was up late talking to Dorien. That's it,” she grumbled.

Acadia scoffed and crossed her arms as well, leaning against the wall. “And here I thought you guys were just taking some battle classes together.”

Odette ran her tongue over her teeth as she tilted her head away. Maybe it was a mistake mentioning that much to her at all.

She had done her best to keep Dorien’s name away from Vienna and Bernard so far but had felt that it would be much harder omitting that information from Acadia. Odette saw Acadia almost every day, and Acadia had known Dorien personally. So, she decided it would be okay to bring it up, but sparsely. However, she was starting to feel some regret over that decision now.

“Yeah, well. Things happen, you know?”

The dubious pause Acadia responded with was expected, but she was evidently ready to move on. A stern glare was suddenly sent to Noel. “Then what’s your excuse, mister?”

“I’ve been really stuck on this mystery podcast about the sacrilege crisis. Stayed up until 1 last night listening,” Noel said quickly. “For your information, I am very—”

Acadia suddenly held up her hands as if telling him to stop talking. “Really, you’re not doing yourself any favors trying to stick your nose in that whole thing. Drug epidemics aren’t anything theatre workers could handle, right?”

Odette couldn’t help but glance over at Noel again, and at that time, he certainly exchanged the look with her.

“Well, that doesn’t mean it isn’t interesting,” Noel said sassily, waving his hand for added effect.

Acadia waved her hands in an exasperated fashion just before she turned on her heel to head off to gods knew where. “Get it together, guys. So don’t keep wasting time. Don’t make me mum you both harder,” she called over her shoulder.

“Believe me, we’re working on it,” Noel called back, cupping his hand over his mouth as he leaned over to watch her go. Odette also craned her head to look over her shoulder, keeping her eye on the back of Acadia’s head until she disappeared around another corner.

When she was gone, she heard Noel sigh and watched him slump against the wall. She also felt some tension leave her as she leaned her head back.

“That didn’t feel too good,” Noel said in a borderline whine.

“No, but it was necessary,” Odette replied in a quieter voice as she eyed the divots in the ceiling. “I definitely don’t think this is something she needs to know about right now. Same goes for Noemie and Claude and Basille.”

When she didn’t get an immediate response, she picked her head back up, now catching Noel looking a little more contemplative.

“You haven’t told Noemie have you?” she pressed. If there were one person she wouldn’t put past Noel to spill everything to, it was his twin sister. They were so thick the thieves were jealous.

Now it was Noel’s turn to roll his eyes. “No,” he said reluctantly. “Mostly because I don’t know how she’d react. She’d either want to help or call mum and dad to have them lock me up.”

“Not sure how much her loudmouth self could help all the way from Galar,” Odette said doubtfully.

“I’m a loudmouth and do just fine.”

“You’re a loudmouth who at least knows how to regulate it.”

Another round of silence swelled between them. It wasn’t until Noel sighed for the final time that it broke.

“You’re right, though. Better it’s just us for the time being.”

***​

The remainder of practice leading up to lunch passed in another blur. Odette could honestly say, even as she sat down among her normal group, that she didn’t have much of a clue of what had gone down in the past few hours. She couldn’t confidently say that she didn’t royally screw up again because nothing stirred her from that autopilot state. Nonetheless, it felt nice to finally turn it off and have a prolonged break to just…sit and close her eyes.

As she leaned her head back onto her backpack and folded her hands behind her head, she heard Acadia suck her teeth.

“If there were ever a time for you not to skip lunch, it would be the week following a visit to the ER. After just insisting you haven't had any hypotension issues for a while,” she said earnestly as she took a spoonful of soup out of the thermos she was holding. "

“And if there were ever a time for my appetite to still be jacked, it would be the days following a fever,” Odette snapped back. "I’ve been snacking today, so you can’t say I haven’t put anything in my stomach.”

That wasn’t necessarily a lie. She’d forced some sort of granola bar down her throat just before leaving her house, anticipating a day of a fleeing appetite. It was indeed for the sake of her recovering health, though. And physically, all was well. Acadia didn’t need to worry about that.

“Chaaaaandelure,” Ange said in agreement as he dug into the chesto berry salad that Solene had packed for him. At least he was eating.

Acadia shook her head in annoyance just before swallowing another bite of her soup. “I sound like a broken record, so perhaps I shouldn’t bother,” she grumbled.

“Obviously, Dee just has a penchant for going hungry,” Noel joked as he sat down beside Acadia, a goofy smile on his face as he leaned into her ear. It prompted her to swat him away.

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” Odette scoffed as she allowed her eyes to slip shut, dead set on dozing off if possible. Gods knew a nap would certainly do her some good. A break from rehearsal, and more importantly, her thoughts.

“How’s the moving going? Hopefully, staying up late to talk with your rich boy toy isn’t affecting your ability to pack your glassware,” Acadia jabbed.

“Solene and Enora have that handled,” Odette shot back, waving her hand dismissively. “They’re the only two maman wants dealing with it anyway.”

Though she was quick to respond, the question truly did get her thinking. She hadn’t actually thought about her big move much in weeks—there was simply no room for it in her head, and there probably wouldn’t be any time soon. Granted, they were still over two months out, but surely packing was a long process. It was best to get a move on it now either way because that time would pass like nothing. But with all of her mental energy wrapped up in figuring out what the actual fuck she’d gotten herself into wasn’t really allowing her any leftovers to put toward getting some boxes together…

She wasn’t sure what stressed her more as that thought occurred to her: the fact that she was moving to a whole new region in two months, or the fact that she and Noel only had two months to get to the bottom of their pressing problem. What could she even do from halfway across the world? Gods, what if Dorien followed her there? What if she never saw Clovis again? That was a sad thought.

“Hey, is Odette out here?”

The sound of her name caused her to jolt. With a couple of slow blinks, she leaned over onto her elbow and looked over her shoulder, taking a cursory glance around to find who was looking for her.

“She is,” she said. “Why?”

Her gaze caught on one of the lead actresses—she played Grizabella in the production--who looked like she’d just jogged from somewhere from the way she was panting. A teasing smirk crossed her face as Odette met her gaze, and she pointed over her shoulder.

“You miiiiiight want to head on out to the lobby. I think you either have a secret admirer or a lover who’s head over heels for you.” She winked for good measure.

Joking hoots travelled around from the immediate cast members that were sitting around her. It was all meant to be a good thing, but the way Odette’s heart took a nosedive down into her stomach said otherwise.

What the fuck did Dorien send her?

She didn’t hesitate to vault herself off the edge of the stage and up one of the aisles toward the doors out of the auditorium. She didn’t bother to see who planned to follow her because that didn’t matter.

The lobby was expansive—ornately decorated, with shiny tile floors, clean red carpets that led up the stairs toward the mezzanine seats, and an enormous crystal chandelier overhead. The giant bush of roses, fit with an equally as giant pink ursaring toy and a bouquet of heart-shaped balloons, that had been unceremoniously left by the will-call windows, looked extremely tacky against the décor. Odette figured it was the ‘I Love Odette,’ which had been spelled out with white roses against the red, that really did it in.

Odette stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of it and instinctively felt her lips curl over her teeth. A cacophony of snickers and mushy-sounding "awwwww’s" were quick to follow, and only then did she realize that a chunk of her castmates had followed her out.

“Since when did you have a boyfriend, Odette?” somebody asked in a laugh.

“Or girlfriend,” another voice interjected. “I totally see it, honestly.”

“That is sooooooo stinkin’ cute; what a goal!”

Odette let the words wash over her but didn’t do much to commit them to mind. She was swimming in her reddening vision. She hadn’t realized she’d clenched her fists until she felt a hand on her shoulder. The suddenness of it caused her to flinch, and with a sharp breath, she shied away and sent a violent look toward whoever dared to try and touch her when she was sinking into anger. The look, however, significantly softened when she saw it was just Acadia.

“Dee, holy hell. Is that from Dorien?” she asked incredulously. “I thought you guys were just talking, but I didn’t realize it was like that.”

Neither did I, Odette thought bitterly as she blinked away the rest of her malicious look.

“He knows how to surprise me,” she said. She didn’t intend for it to come out as flat as it did, but it was much harder to fake it when he wasn’t around.

Swallowing down her urge to yell an expletive, she built up the nerve to approach the lavish gift. The closer she got to it, the sicker she felt. She began to say a silent prayer to herself as she eyed the greeting card that was attached to the Ursaring plushie’s neck, somehow willing that the surprise was actually from Clovis and this was just the billionaire's way of confessing one's undying love for—


My dearest Odette,

I hope this adequately conveys how sorry I am for yelling at you the other day, and how much I care for you. I’m glad you’re feeling better, and I’m excited to see you soon.

All my love,
Dorien


Her vision swam again, and it took everything in her not to tear the card to shreds. She aimed her eyes up at the bush as a whole, suddenly registering that it was somehow taller than her—not that she was tall to begin with, but anything taller than 5 feet might have been too damn much for a flower gift like this. But, she supposed a fresh rose bush was something Dorien could afford without giving it a second thought.

Did he think this was somehow supposed to glaze over how he’d acted in the garden? How he’d raised his voice and grabbed her? Above all, why did he feel the need to do this while she was at work? He had to have known something like this was impractical, yet he went through with it anyway.

It felt like an attempt at marking territory. The thought made her shudder involuntarily.

He clearly wanted everyone to know who the gift was for and that it was meant to be perceived as an act of love, an act of apology for acting so audaciously. The reactions of her castmates were exactly what he was going for. Perhaps he’d picked up on her degrading responses and decided the best course of action was to put her on the spot like this. Maybe it was meant to be spiteful or petty, or maybe she was reading into it too much.

Either way, it fucking infuriated her.

“How are you gonna get that home, girl?” somebody else called. Some lighthearted snickers followed. Even as she sunk lower into her rage, she could tell that the comments and laughs weren’t meant to be malicious…but they felt that way.

“I guess that’s why she’s so out of it today?”

That caused her to tense up, and her grip on the card tightened. It creased in her grasp, but she couldn’t have given less of a shit. She tried to breathe through it, but the corners of her vision clouded at an unbelievably fast rate. If she stood there any longer, she would tear the flowers into mulch.

She slammed the card back down into the crook of the plushie’s neck before storming off toward the door leading to the backstage area. She didn’t bother to go back through the doors that led back into the house; none of those nosy natu’s needed to see the face she was making. Or hear how labored her breathing had gotten.

She stormed down the hallway, following its sharp turns and bare concrete walls, until she could hear the sparse voices of the other cast members on lunch. With a couple more calculated turns, she found herself at the door to the women’s dressing room, and she didn’t hesitate to barge her way inside.

When she didn’t immediately hear the sound of a shower running, a toilet flushing, or tittering voices going back and forth, she screamed.

It was guttural; it tore through her throat with such an animalistic force that Odette could only contain herself by grabbing one of the shower stall curtains and tearing it clear off the wall bar and all. As they collectively clattered to the floor, she arched over and grabbed hold of her head as if that would somehow alleviate the undiluted rage pulsing through her brain.

Easy. Easy. Keep it together.

Repeating that phrase a few times caused the intensity of her emotions to die down, and with a shallow breath, she slowly straightened her posture and abruptly shoved her hands into her pockets. Her fingers went to work tugging at the loose pieces of thread and fabric, only loose because of other episodes similar to this one. However, even if she was ruining the internal parts of her clothes, at least she was keeping her hands busy.

Easy.

Easy.

Here, you are a hundred percent in control.

She cracked her eyes open, immediately catching sight of the torn curtain and displaced rod on the floor. That was enough to prompt her to close them again and shake her head apologetically.

“Fuck me,” she muttered.

She walked back toward the sinks, where she and Noel had spent a good 20 minutes passing their findings back and forth just several days before. The dressing room had been empty then, and she certainly hoped it was now.

She pressed her back against the nearby wall-length mirror and slid down to the floor, resting her forehead against her bent knees as she willed herself to regulate her breathing. Her exhaustion was imminent, and she wanted to do her best to fight it off. She could just take a quick sip of water from the sink, but she didn’t have it in her to stand up right now. Plus, she was still trying to keep her hands busy. She wasn’t sure if she could trust herself yet to let them go, lest she needlessly butcher another stall.

“Chaaaandelure.”

Odette sighed deeply as she raised her head. Her tired eyes met Ange’s slightly worried ones. She was entirely unfazed to see he was just inches from her face. In fact, she welcomed his comforting warmth.

“Sorry. Did I freak you out?”

Ange thought for a beat before shaking his head. He didn’t say anything as he sank down to the floor next to her. She took that as an invitation to lean back against the mirror.

“Lure?” Ange asked after a few more seconds of quiet.

Odette took a while to respond. “Yeah, it was from Dorien.”

Another pause. “Chan?”

That time, she laughed. It was very much needed. “I’d let you burn it if neither of us would get arrested for arson.” She rubbed the side of her face as she groaned tiredly. “Besides, I’ve already trashed the showers.”

Ange peered back toward the line of stalls, blinking a couple of times as he did. He said nothing more as he floated off toward them, disappearing just down the row. Odette watched him go and only quirked a brow when she heard the sound of light metal scraping against the floor.

“Ange, what are you doing?” she called.

Her question was met with a creaking noise, like the sound of rubber being rubbed aggressively against a hard surface, followed by a couple of low thumps. Ange distinctly grumbled to himself before the sound of a plastic curtain rustling became all she could hear.

“Ange?” she called again, bracing herself to stand up. She needn’t have bothered, though.

The chandelure suddenly appeared in front of her again, and this time, he was wearing the fallen shower curtain like a cape. As for the rod, he held it up as if it were some sort of staff. He puckered his lips in a pompous fashion, and his eyes drooped to match.

“Chande, chan. Deeeelure,” he said, deepening the sound of his voice as if he were trying to do an imitation.

Odette’s brows remained lower as she watched him, but it wasn’t very long before a half-smile broke across her lips. She settled her cheek into her palm as she began to shake her head at him.

“You know, if you really wanted to dress up like a king, we have actual king costumes in costume storage,” she chuckled.

Ange abruptly stopped his acting to glare at her. It wasn’t anything malicious. More playful than anything. She held her hands up defensively nonetheless.

“I’m just saying; it might be slightly more helpful if we could get that thing back on the wall.”

Ange puckered his lips in thought, and the fire blazing from his head suddenly flared up with an idea. He dove back down the row of stalls, and at that time, Odette forced herself to stand to follow him. More sounds of rubber scraping against tile and plastic material rustling filled her ears as she trudged over, grabbing onto whatever walls and benches she could to ensure she wouldn’t fall back over from her oncoming drowsiness.

“Chaaaaaandelure!” Ange finally cheered, just in time for Odette to round the corner and see what he was up to.

He had indeed gotten the curtain rod wedged back between the two stall walls, but he’d done it at a very evident angle. As for the curtain, it was wrapped in a neat bow around the center of the rod.

“De-lure!” Ange said happily, gesturing to it with an excited wave of his tendrils.

Odette stared at his handiwork for a long while, contemplating how to respond. She was both minutely annoyed and extremely impressed with his bow-tying skills. She decided to lean more into the latter feeling, as she both appreciated his attempts to cheer her up, and she was in no mood to deal with him crying because she asked him to take it down.

“Very nice,” she said, sending him a gentle grin. Ange beamed, jubilantly swaying from side to side. His clear happiness was enough to fill her with a sense of calm she so desperately needed right now. Water would have been nice too.

As that thought occurred to her, she turned back for the sinks. She quickly stumbled in front of one and flicked it on, holding her mouth under it so she could get a solid sip from the stream coming out of the faucet. With only a few gulps, she felt the mental fog starting to clear, and her energy returning.
.
Then, RotomPhone buzzed in her pocket, and all that calmness fell out the window.

“Fucking–” she seethed.

She pulled away from the sink, aggressively wiping the excess water off her lips. “What the hell does it say now?” she asked in a raised voice.

The phone morphed in her pocket and quickly hovered up in front of her.

“Bzzzt! New text message from Clovis LeClair!” RotomPhone said.

Her breath immediately got caught in her throat, and she was left coughing and gasping over herself like a bumbling moron.

“Uh oh, bzzzzzt, I probably should have braced you for that. Bzzzt, sorry! ” RotomPhone said apologetically. A pixelated sweatdrop came into view on the screen.

“De? Deluure?” Ange asked frantically over her wheezing.

“I’m good. I’m of sound body and mind,” Odette insisted between jagged breaths as she tried to ease her throat. She held up an assuring finger with one hand as she patted herself on the chest with her other. When she was sure she was at least somewhat coherent, she held her hand out RotomPhone.

“Let’s see,” she said.

The phone floated down into her hand, and Odette quickly pulled up her messaging screen. To a potent mixture of her shock and absolute glee, she felt her stomach do a somersault at the sight of his name, bolded in her inbox with the ‘unread’ indicator next to it. She beheld it for a while before allowing herself to click on it.

Good afternoon Miss Cinq-Mars. I apologize if I'm catching you at a bad time, but please let me know when you’ll be available to speak today. I hope you’re feeling much better this week and that everything is well.​

She reread the message once, twice, twelve times. Sure, he had asked Bernard how she was doing, but now he was actually sending her well wishes. Was this real? Was she dreaming?

No. Wait. It was merely business. He’d said he planned to reach out when she was feeling better, and she was feeling better. To an extent. They were going to set up a time to talk, and there was nothing romantic about it.

FOCUS. FOCUS. FOCUS.

She typed out her response faster than she thought she was able to.


I’m at work right now, but we’re having lunch. I can talk for a few minutes


She was about to send it when she stopped herself. Was the smiley face too much? They were just two acquaintances trying to set up a date to discuss confidential information, so why the hell would she bother sending a smiley face?

But on the other hand, would he think she was being too stiff if she didn’t? They seemed to have a repertoire of joking around whenever they came face to face…at least, she judged that much from the two times they’d talked in person, so perhaps it wouldn’t be that out of place?

She felt a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. When the fuck did texting become so hard?

After a few seconds of the most intense self-deliberation she had ever suffered, she erased the emoticon and sent the message. The regret was instant, but she worked herself through it. They were just two acquaintances setting up a time to have an acquaintance-esque discussion. It was fine.

Something better to worry about instead of the thorny roses in the lobby.

 

[Sinderella]

Chapter 11.5: Bow
♩

Spoiler: Content Warning(s)

CW: Strong Language, Strip Club Setting, Drug Usage, Talk of Sex, Talk of Sexual Assault, Thoughts of Abuse, Stalker-like Behavior, Thoughts of Murder

Spoiler: Author's Note (PLEASE READ)

Hey all! Welcome to the first "Bonus Chapter." I had this chapter idea after hyperfixating on a certain linked song, and decided to write it out as a way to get into a particular character's head and perhaps reveal more about this plot along the way. Please keep in mind that there is a lot of uh...pretty gross discussion in this chapter that might make some readers very uncomfortable. It is not imperative to the plot of the story that you read this, so please don't feel inclined to do so if any of the above content warnings cause squicky feelings. Nothing major happens here, but some details might raise some questions and/or answer some.

If you do end up reading on, please enjoy! (Or not )

Strip clubs didn’t really do it for him anymore.

Even as he sat in the VIP room, surrounded by top-shelf wines and champagnes and perhaps some of the wealthiest men in Kalos, he wondered why he still bothered. He was all for boisterous settings, but surely other clubs in the area would be willing to accommodate them and their dealings. Plenty of players in the sacrilege distribution owned clubs, so perhaps they didn’t need to frequent just this one. No matter how much the owner bought.

He tightened his grip on the tube of Earl Gray scented lip balm that he was mindlessly twirling between his fingers and held it longingly to his lips. He finally allowed himself to zone back in on his surroundings as his ear caught on some intense laughter just off to his right. It managed to break through the rumbling bass of the club speakers, so clearly, something was funny.

Squinting through the cloud of cigarette smoke and blinking light from the colored spotlights overhead, he barely made out the image of Lionel, Adam, and Colin sitting on the nearby sectional and just fraternizing with a bevy of ladies who might as well have been naked.

Adam was in the middle of getting yet another lap dance, and he was more into it than the first three. Lionel had two of them in his lap, and Colin looked more interested in eyeing the other men that were standing around. He supposed nothing really had changed since high school. Adam was still horny, and Colin was still as gay as they came. Lionel went to a different school, but it’s safe to assume he was as much of a playboy then as he was now.

At least the general consensus so far was that everyone was having a good time. Though, he had to wonder how any of these men could have fun at a club spouting such lies.

This place boasted of employing “the most beautiful women in Kalos,” but he couldn’t get behind that sentiment. He simply couldn’t understand the appeal of these pasty-wearing bimbos with nails long enough to castrate a man in one swipe. How did they manage to clean themselves, anyway? There was nothing sanitary about it; there couldn’t be. And even if they managed to be squeaky clean hygienically, none held a candle to her.

Because she was perfect. Too perfect, apparently.

He sighed deeply into the plastic of the lip balm tube as he allowed his eyes to slip shut. This keepsake had long lost its scent of her, but it still brought him a sense of comfort to know that there was a time when she applied its contents to her beautiful lips on the daily. Perhaps that was how she kept them in such pristine condition–-he always had to wonder how somebody managed to have such flawless lips like that.

Such flawless, kissable lips. These strippers could never.

He flipped the tube between his fingers once more until he could see where she’d hastily scribbled out her initials, marking it as her own at one point. He’d never known anybody to care so much about their lip balm that they were willing to brand it; that meant she misplaced them quite often…or had them stolen.

He almost felt guilty at that thought, being that he hadn’t hesitated to swipe it when she accidentally dropped her backpack in the hallway that one day. All of her possessions spilled out onto the floor, and everything was there for pickings as he helped her gather everything back up. He remembered how annoyed she was and how he had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling over the jackpot he’d hit.

He settled for the lip balm on that occasion; not as disposable as the pencil she used to tap against her cheek in chemistry but not as desirable as the sports bra she apparently kept on hand for her dance practices after school. It was a happy medium.

Besides, taking somebody's undergarments would have been too weird, even if it did smell entirely of her. He would never stoop himself that low.

The memory caused him to roll his eyes, even as he thumbed the fading Sharpie ink.

OHC. OHC. OHC. OHC.

Yes, it was very certain. She was perfect. He knew that, and it was clear at this point that even Mr. Lambourne knew that.

As the thought occurred to him, that familiar spot in the nape of his neck began to tingle. He resisted scoffing as the forsaken devil on his shoulder filled his head with more nonsense.

You truly are infatuated with the object of His Majesty’s affections, you know? I wonder why that is?

He clenched his jaw as if that would somehow will Inviderus to stop talking. As usual, it didn’t.

All of his attention is on her when it should be on you. How could you love something so deeply when that’s the case?

He was suddenly grinding his teeth. He was acutely aware that he might damage his veneers, but when his emotions were at war with Envy, none of that really mattered, did it?

But, Inviderus, as always, had a point. How could he still harbor such intense feelings of love toward the very thing that kept Mr. Lambourne busy all the time? All His Majesty ever wanted to know about was what she had said or what she was doing–-not anything his loyal subjects were up to, ever.

That was the part that infuriated him. That part made him want to wrap his fingers around her damn neck and squeeze until she stopped breathing.

In thinking about that, he was certain that that might be more effective in getting Venira to rear her head than he had been doing. Just getting aggressive in battle or talking her ear off about touchy subjects wasn't enough, and the latter had even cost him some of his Vice Dust. Only the first-degree strain, but it was a loss nonetheless. He really needed to watch how much he used on her. She'd taken enough of it as it was.

But she had too good of a grip on herself, and it was making things so much more difficult. He supposed he should have suspected that of somebody who literally killed their rapist seconds after the act occurred--she had to have gone completely zen to get over something like that.

He really did not want to harm her physically. He couldn’t physically harm her; he was barred from it after the last time. That was against the mission. But…he was slowly running out of options. And losing his patience.

The closest he seemed to have gotten to success so far was when she confronted the battle at the garden, and he hadn’t even been there to witness it fully. He was still kicking himself for it and how he’d acted after the fact.

Impulsively, he reached into his pants pocket with his free hand, withdrew his phone, and navigated to the texting thread he had with her. He scrolled back through all of their recent messages, skimming over her short and sometimes curt responses for perhaps the twentieth time that day. She was a sparse texter as it was, but this was getting out of hand.

She had to be upset with him, right? Or was it because she was still recovering from her ER visit? Maybe that was it.

Fuck.

He knew better. He really knew better.

He couldn’t afford to lose out on her like this for more reasons than one. He relished in all the moments he could kiss her, hug her, and run his fingers through her hair. Not to mention, Mr. Lambourne wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he failed this. Probably to the point of stripping him of his title.

Maybe if he actually succeeded in recapturing Venira, Mr. Lambourne would drop the infatuation with her and start paying attention more attention to him, and that way, he could stop wallowing in this deep-set desire to slit her fucking throat. The conflicting emotions were absolutely nauseating, and he was getting to the point where he didn’t quite know what to do with himself anymore.

The sheer Envy he felt over just downright perfect she managed to be. Why couldn’t he be like that? God, she didn’t even know Mr. Lambourne existed, and yet…

Perhaps he could hit her just once. Release some tension and maybe, just maybe, lure Venira out. Kill two birds with one stone. Besides, a smack wouldn’t break skin. It would just leave a welt; one that would most likely heal in a day as long as he was careful with how hard he went for it. It wouldn’t be that awful, right?

She was a strong girl. She’d be fine. He might even let her hit him back to call it even. He could get away with it if it meant success. He could convince Mr. Lambourne of that. Nothing else was working, and it was all he could do!

Yes, that had the potential to slide, right?

Right?

Wrong. So wrong.

That would be awful. He could just imagine the hurt in her eyes and hear her screaming at him for beating on her. And he couldn’t imagine Mr. Lambourne letting him get away with that unscathed. Alive, maybe, if he turned up with Venira, but certainly not unscathed. What was the warning again?

If you personally mess with a single hair on her head without my firm approval, I'll make sure yours is removed from your neck.

No, that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t afford to harm her himself, not after past events.

But…god, it felt like she deserved it at least a little bit. Perfection shouldn’t be allowed to exist if it wasn’t on him.

He swore he could hear Inviderus chuckling as he wrapped his fingers around the lip balm. He felt it begin to bend against the white-knuckled grip he now had on it, and he was certain it would snap against the force. Maybe that was a good thing.

“Dorien.”

With a deep breath, Dorien released all the tension from his body. He was supposed to be here, having a good time, and doing what he needed to be doing. Not reminiscing over things he could worry about when he returned to the ship.

He blinked a few times before turning his head to meet Denis’s familiar droopy-eyed gaze. Dorien hadn’t even heard him come over. He wasn’t quite sure where he’d been either.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head once as he pocketed the balm. “What do you want?”

Denis raised a brow, then nodded his head toward the briefcase that was sitting at Dorien’s feet. “Figured that was obvious,” he said.

Dorien pressed his lips together and nodded once. Yes, that was the real reason they’d all gathered here as it was. That was the focus and nothing more.

He reached down, picked the case off the floor, and set it on the coffee table just in front of him. He needed to move some half-empty glasses and plates aside first but found just enough room to set it flat. He held his thumb to the lock, and the thing unlocked with a familiar beep and buzz. He carefully pushed it open and fanned out the smaller display shelves that were so neatly tucked away.

It really was a splendid sight. Vials upon vials of fresh sacrilege, ready for the pickings. Ready for selling off. With the crowd he was with, a full case like this would be gone before the night's end.

But that didn’t matter either.

Even though he consistently returned to Mr. Lambourne with empty cases, the man cared less and less. The only thing on His Majesty’s mind as of late was her. Dorien had started to wonder why he still bothered with this when he had other bigger issues to be tending to.

His eyes travelled between the vials, quickly reading off the strain labels. Greed, Sloth, Lust, Gluttony, Pride, Envy…

He caught himself on one of the “Pride” vials, and without a second of thought, he reached out and grabbed one. He popped off the protective seal and downed it in a single motion.

That was why he was still bothered. As long as he made and sold it, he had full access to a fresh pull daily. That was worth it.

“Gods, you’re crazy,” Denis said in awe. “I have to crystalize mine and snort it. It tastes too bad to drink straight.”

Dorien shuddered as the last of the sweetest liquid traveled down his throat. Sure, he could crystalize it, or he could take it intravenously. Hell, he could even drop it into his eyes. But all of that took too long. He could deal with the moment of discomfort if it meant he didn’t have to take an extra step.

“Well, it doesn’t help that your preference is Lust. That shit’s bitter enough to curdle your blood,” he said, screwing the top back on the vial and sticking it back into its cell on the shelf. “Unless you’re eyeing something different tonight.”

Denis crossed his arms as he inhaled a deep, contemplative breath. “I think,” he began, “I’m in an Envious mood.”

Dorien reached for one of the Envy vials. “Of course, my output is the best of them all,” he joked as he handed it over. Denis was quick to snatch the drug away and left Dorien with a wad of cash in his palm. He didn’t bother to count it because they’d made this exchange enough times to have it down to a science.

From there, it went as normal. His comrades sauntered over and made their buys. Even some of the strippers indulged themselves in a purchase or two, and soon most of the room was engaged in some form of ingestion of it, along with the excess drinking and smoking. Nobody had their Pokemon out, so it was apparent that no drug-induced battles would occur. But it still managed to feel like just another night, regardless.

Dorien looked bored as he fell back against the couch again and watched all the debauchery develop, waiting for the Pride to start burning in his blood. Some much-needed warmth against the chill of his warring emotions.

He slowly kicked the briefcase closed again with the tip of his Balenciaga shoe when a presence sunk itself into the space next to him on the loveseat. He arched a brow as he met the eyes of one of the dancers. She was undoubtedly Sinnohan and managed to set herself apart from the other girls by being the only one wearing pasties instead of an actual top. She certainly had the body to pull it off, and from how she smiled at him, it was obvious that she knew that too.

“Can I help you?” Dorien asked, offering her remnants of a half-smirk.

“I guess I should be asking you that,” she answered. Her Kalosian was surprisingly good. “You’re bumming me out just sitting here by your lonesome.”

He chuckled and playfully rolled his eyes, pushing himself to sit up so he could face her more directly. “Nothing’s really catching my eye at the moment, so I figured I’d just observe.”

The woman pursed her painted lips thoughtfully, but that look quickly became something more mischievous as she scooted closer. Dorien caught the immediate wind of her floral-smelling perfume and allowed his eyes to fall shut.

If Odette didn’t exist in the world, perhaps he might have been the slightest bit tempted by this one.

Actually, fuck that. He was a good-looking guy who caught the attention of anybody who walked past him. He could stand to indulge himself in that a little bit. This girl was beautiful, he was beautiful, and it just worked. Granted, she was no Odette, but Odette wasn’t here.

There it is, he thought as that familiar, Prideful warmth exploded within his core. He’d only taken one vial, so he wasn’t expecting anything major to happen this time around. The increased sense of hubris was plenty for the time being, and he definitely felt like he needed it.

“Maybe I can change that?” she said suggestively, leaning her face closer to his. The lasting aroma of Lust was evident on her tongue, and Dorien couldn’t help but chuckle as he opened his eyes again.

“You seem confident in your ability to do so.”

She took that as an invitation to crawl into his lap, and he didn’t do anything to stop her. He simply rested his hand against the small of her bare back and leaned backward to take in her looks and the attention he was so dead set on giving him. Attention he certainly deserved, that was for damn sure. Yes, it was nice.

Sure, some people might have called him an asshole for letting another woman crawl on him while he had a loving girlfriend at home by herself. But this was only for the moment. Besides, maybe if Odette had quenched him once in a while, he wouldn’t feel the need to do something like this. He supposed he understood her reservations, what with her past sexual trauma, but they’d been dating for over a month, and nothing had come of it. She never invited him inside, and she never took him up on his offers to go home with him after their dates.

Honestly, this was her doing. He loved her, but fuck, he needed some reprieve from how she made him feel in the loins. He could justify letting another girl get on him for that reason. There wasn’t anything wrong with it if he was just thinking about Odette the entire time anyway.

He resisted the urge to cringe at that collective train of thought. Pride made him feel good, but sometimes it made him feel too good.

“I don’t see you stopping me,” the Sinnohan girl giggled.

Dorien quickly stitched together some witty remark but was interrupted by the obnoxious noise of the beaded curtains being pulled back. He looked over, expecting yet another round of strippers, but was even less enthused by who it ended up being.

That guy always stuck out like a sore thumb, even when people weren’t bending to his every beck and call. With his garish silver hair and bright blue eyes...

“Hellooooooo, am I interrupting anything?” Clovis called, alerting everyone's attention to him. The hoots and hollers of delight were quick to follow, and soon he was being showered with handshakes and pats on the shoulder and even being offered some drinks already. He hadn’t even been there 10 seconds, and even some of the strippers themselves were starting to slink over.

“Mmm, a late arrival. That doesn’t happen often with you guys,” the Sinnohan girl purred. Dorien felt a growl bubble in his throat.

What the fuck was it about that heir to the LeClair fortune that drew everyone to him like a magnet? There was their entire social circle and even Mr. Lambourne himself.

Why does everyone bother with him when I’m already here? he thought.

Careful, Inviderus warned with a chuckle.

Dorien huffed to himself and shook his head once. “He’s one for grand entrances,” he said somewhat bitterly. With a polite wave of his hand, she crawled back off of him, and he stood to adjust his coat. He put on his best smirk and sauntered to his so-called best friend.

“Clovis,” Dorien called. “Better late than never. I thought you didn’t do strip clubs?”

Clovis finished up a handshake he was giving to somebody else before holding his hands out to his sides as he slowly approached. “I don’t. But I still felt the need to show some face.”

He held his hand out, and Dorien didn’t hesitate to take it in a firm grip. Their standard greeting. Just friendly enough. For now.

“Glad to have you,” Dorien said as he resisted the urge to grit his teeth. “You’re just in time for the good stuff.”

“Oh, you mean watching Adam get lap dances? Seems like adequate entertainment,” Clovis jabbed. The men in immediate earshot erupted into light snickers, and Dorien watched as Adam shook his head in disagreement.

“Piss off, LeClair,” he shot back with an equal amount of jest in his voice. He hugged the girl straddling him a little closer, causing her to giggle as he held his half-empty glass up. “Maybe it’d do you some good to indulge yourself, too. You spent so much time cooped up in your house, so gods know you’re bad at getting your dick wet by anything that isn’t your right hand.”

Clovis laughed heartily and shook his head as he made his way over to the counter lined with their purchased beverages.

“I’m good,” he declared as he grasped the neck of a gin bottle. He picked up an empty glass with another and poured his drink, which he immediately downed in one gulp. He paused, scrunching his face through the evident burn, before exhaling sharply. “Just here for the drinks. Besides, I’m a lefty.”

“I bet I could convince you,” Lionel said suggestively. “I’ll send you an extra special lap dance later on.”

“And I’ll pay off whatever debt she might have to have her refrain from touching me,” Clovis said. He poured himself another round and replaced the bottle back in the spot he found it before walking over to an empty couch in the seating area. He didn’t hesitate to throw himself onto it and kick his legs up.

“That’s no fun,” Lionel whined.

“Well, you don’t understand the concept of not liking sexual encounters,” he said just before taking another slow sip of the gin.

“Mm, nope,” Adam replied. “I can’t imagine that.”

“You’re talking an awful lot for someone who was a fellow Lust hoarder for a while,” Denis interjected as he threw himself down into a lone chair.

“Crazy concept, I was taking it to combat that. Even crazier concept, it didn’t work,” Clovis shot back.

“Why don’t you try it one more time and spend a night with me? Maybe that’ll get your gears going,” Colin said through a sultry smirk.

Dorien rolled his eyes. “Subtle,” he said, leaning over against the back of the couch just behind Colin.

“Please,” Clovis snickered. “I think all you’ll do is further remind me how asexual I truly am, high or not.”

“But have you ever been with a real man?” Colin questioned, sticking out his lower lip.

At that, Clovis immediately downed his drink. “I’ve been with plenty of ‘real’ men. Let's be honest with ourselves here; you’d barely rank on that totem pole.”

“I bet you’d retract that statement once you saw my totem pole.”

Clovis’s expression became something more deadpan, and he shifted his weight slightly to reach into his jacket pocket. He fished out a pack of cigarettes–-the pecha ones he really liked to invest in, no doubt–-and a lighter.

“Nice one, didn’t see that coming,” he grumbled while he flipped the carton open and took one of the sticks between his teeth. It was lit with a flick of the lighter, and he shoved everything back where he got it from.

“That’s not the only thing you could see coming,” Colin hummed.

“God, what are you, twelve?” Dorien finally scoffed, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. Colin rubbed at the contact site and shot him a juvenile-looking glare.

“Now I remember why I hate talking to you all,” Clovis said through a rancorous chuckle. “If I wanted to indulge in locker room discussion, I’d go back to my old boarding school.”

“Wow, they had boarding schools in the dark ages?” Adam asked sweetly.

“I wouldn’t know, but your maman would.” Clovis had his eyes closed now, and his hands were folded behind his head. Clearly, none of this banter was much effort for him.

“Funny, my mum’s younger than you,” Adam spat.

“Yeah, she told me while she was in my bed last night.”

Low hoots echoed through the space, and Adam scoffed as he shifted his position under the woman still sitting on him. “Asexual, by the way.”

“Guess there’s still some Lust left in me,” Clovis chortled, reaching up and pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. He exhaled quickly before biting down on it once again.

“Come on, I’m sure I could screw some sense into you if you let me,” Colin whined. “Give me the benefit of the doubt, good lookin’.”

“Darn, if I had a dime for every time I heard that, I’d be the world’s first trillionaire.”

“Now, now, gentlemen,” Dorien said, gesturing to the briefcase on the table, hoping to end the excruciating conversation. “I have plenty of Lust left on me tonight. It could do you some good to give it another go, yeah? Or something else?”

Clovis took a long breath from the cigarette as he opened his eyes again. His exhale was just as long, and he tiredly eyed the smoke as it drifted up toward the spinning disco ball hanging from the ceiling.

“You know, trying to tickle my addictive tendencies is hardly a friendly approach,” he chided.

“No, but it’s definitely a healthy business practice,” Dorien snickered. “Especially regarding one of my best customers.”

That time, Clovis rolled his eyes. “I’ve bought it for myself, yes, but I’m not always the only one taking it. Have to split it with the team. And I’m kind of on a break from it for now.”

Dorien exhaled quietly, resisting the sudden urge to go after him with one of the empty bottles on the counter. It was that ‘best customer’ status that got Mr. Lambourne interested in him in the first place.

First Odette, and now Clovis. It was infuriating.

Dorien couldn’t do anything to Odette immediately, but he could fully consider strangling Clovis. Perhaps it was the Pride talking, but he couldn’t bring himself to contest it. Two people taking most, if not all, of his mentor’s energy was two too fucking many.

Why did His Majesty want Clovis? What could he possibly need with Clovis aside from his money? Sure, he was good-looking, he could be suave when he wanted to, and he spoke his mind. But what did Mr. Lambourne need with that? It’s not like he had any more Sin Titles to appoint.

Unless he was planning on demoting one of them. Probably Lust. With how often Clovis used to buy that strain, maybe His Majesty was eyeing a potential replacement. Not that Dorien was a fan of who beheld Lust, but Clovis wasn't much better.

Or, perhaps, he was eyeing a replacement for Dorien himself.

It wasn’t certain, and probably a result of his high, but the prospects of it were enough to make Dorien wary. Mr. Lambourne switched moods at the drop of a hat--because he could--and that had to have crossed his mind once or twice. Especially after Dorien recklessly used his third-degree Vice Dust on Odette at the graduation party...and Mr. Lambourne didn't forget things like that. Even if it did work in their favor, it still had to be in the back of his mind.

Why else would he be so adamant that Dorien also get ahold of Clovis physically? They already had a chunk of the LeClair’s money, so what more was needed?

No, no, no. Dorien could hone his focus on Odette, but he’d do everything he could to ensure Mr. Lambourne and Clovis never met eyes. That couldn’t happen. That wouldn’t happen. Clovis already had so much at the tip of his fucking fingers, even after being out of the public eye for so long, and the idea of him taking the one thing Dorien had going for himself was just—

Yes. Perhaps a dead Clovis was a better Clovis. Dorien was tired of playing nice with him, even if it was under Mr. Lambourne's orders, and even if it was to keep tabs on what he was doing. It was evident that the feeling was mutual, so what was the point? Better with one of them dead and not having to deal with it. It would give Dorien one less thing to keep track of.

But, Mr. Lambourne probably wouldn't be happy if Clovis's body turned up somewhere. The press would be all over it for sure, and it'd be a mess Team Enigma would have to clean up instead of putting all of their focus on the more important matters at hand. His Majesty would throw a fit over that.

Overall, it wasn't worth it. Dorien would have to use his brain and watch himself. Keep Clovis at arm's length and play nice, while ensuring he never got to Mr. Lambourne.

“I mean, have you seen his girlfriend?” Lionel asked incredulously. “I’m sorry, Dorien. I don’t even know what you’re doing here. You could be at home fucking that instead.”

Dorien snapped out of his angry haze at the sound of his name being dropped. Was that ridiculous sex conversation still going on? Good grief. “I’m sorry, fucking what?”

“Your girlfriend,” Lionel repeated. “What’s her name again?”

“Odette,” Colin answered. “Like Swanna Lake. Odette Cinq-Mars.”

“Pretentious ass name,” Lionel said dismissively. “But she’s hot as fuck, so whatever, I guess.” He threw his head back against the couch and laughed to himself. “Like, her ass? My gods, dude, you’re fucking lucky.”

Truer words had never been spoken, but that didn’t mean they needed to be said by another man. And who the hell was he to call her “pretentious”? Dorien forced a laugh as he held up a slightly defensive hand.

“Maybe don’t stare at her ass when I bring her around.” He said it like a partial warning.

“I can’t really help it, though. I never knew short girls could be built like that. I bet she fits on you just right,” Lionel taunted.

Now he was getting mad. Dorien leaned down to hover his chin over Lionel’s head and stared down at him with every bit of malice he could muster. “Is that really what you think about when you have two women in your lap? You’re not a very gracious host, are you?”

Lionel sputtered into perplexed giggles, but he didn’t turn around as he released his hold on the girls and motioned for them to stand up. They exchanged wary looks before getting up and moving to whoever else was standing by. He crossed his legs and craned his neck to look up at Dorien.

“Dude, I’m just complimenting your pick; don’t get it so twisted. She’s hot, that’s all I was getting at.”

“Then just say ‘she’s hot’ and leave it at that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Adam said. The stripper that had been dancing on him had also walked off, giving him plenty of room to lean over and clamp Lionel on the shoulder. “Dory’s been like that since high school. He got snippy with anybody who talked gross about her.”

“It was cute,” Colin mused. “I told Noel about it, and he wanted to get them together badly.”

Dorien huffed loudly and smacked Colin again. “If you would kindly leave my personal affairs out of your post-nut conversations with your ex, I’d appreciate it.”

“Owwww-uh!” Colin groaned, grabbing his head once more. “I was doing you a fucking favor, man! Noel was, like, her best friend, so I figured it was a no-brainer. Plus, it was forever ago…”

And all Dorien got out of that was Noel thinking he was gay and embarrassing him in front of Odette. But he already had enough on his mind, so he wouldn’t go there.

“I had a crush on her myself in secondary school. Didn't get very far, though. She was such a prig,” Denis suddenly said as he held his drink to his lips. He opened his mouth to continue, but something of a dubious chuckle made its way out before the words did. “How is she now, Dory? I'm sure she’s way more broken in after what happened, right? Was it worth waiting around for her prude ass to open up?”

Some remnants of chatter sounded, but Dorien couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. Those words did nothing more than send his blood pressure through the ceiling. It was probably also the Pride at work, but that most likely would have happened even if he wasn’t drugged up.

“I know you took some Envy tonight, but it’s really not a good look on you,” Dorien snapped, trying his best to refrain from hauling off and punching Denis right then and there. He didn’t do a very good job because he stepped out from around the couch without thinking too much about it. “You asked her out—twice, might I add—and she said no. It was five, no...six years ago, so move the fuck on.”

Of course, Odette wouldn't remember that. But Dorien did, and he sure as hell wouldn't forget it.

Denis scoffed loudly and finally took his sip. “What, that wasn’t meant to be an insult, I was asking. You showed up at Lansat and kinda pulled the chair out from under me, so excuse me for being a little curious.”

Now Dorien was standing in front of him, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he tapped his foot on the ground. Some movement to keep him busy, so he didn’t start a fistfight outright.

“It’s none of your business. Why do you want to know so much about somebody who wasn’t interested in you?” he asked, leaning closer to Denis’s face. Denis’s expression didn’t falter, even as he drank again.

“Oh,” he droned. “Maybe because I’m bitter. Maybe because I think she’s an idiot for picking you over me.”

Envy really was a powerful thing. Dorien knew firsthand. “That sounds like a personal prob–”

He couldn’t finish his sentence before Denis was doused with a full serving of red wine. The shock caused him to drop his glass, and it hit the floor with a CRASH that stopped all immediate conversation. Dorien jumped back to avoid getting splashed and watched as Denis sputtered and spat as he wiped the liquid from his face. He frantically examined the expensive suit that would undoubtedly need some serious dry cleaning to remove the stains.

“What the fuck?” Denis yelled.

“Whoops,” Clovis said as he tucked an empty wine glass back toward his chest. He was standing behind Denis’s chair now.

When had Clovis even gotten up? When had he gotten another drink? Where the hell was his cigarette? His eyebrows were knit together in apparent concern, but the way he stood by and watched Denis clumsily try to wipe himself off said otherwise.

“Stupid me. Already too drunk for my own good.”

Clovis spoke with an air of jest, but there was a scathing undertone to his words that was on the verge of coming to the forefront. Dorien wasn’t sure if he was thankful or completely startled. He decided just to let the action play out.

“Fucking hell, LeClair, this is a Brionni.”

“Truly, I am so sorry.” Clovis still had yet to make any move to assist. It was becoming apparent that he most likely wasn’t going to. “I’ll pay for the cleaning. It’s the least I can do.”

Denis sent him a glare before standing up and storming out of the room. Some other men and strippers watched him go, but Clovis didn’t bother to look. His face grew somewhat smug as Denis left his line of sight, and when the curtains clattered shut, he shrugged.

“Really, you’d think I knew my limits by now,” he said flatly. “My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. Please feel free to carry on with what you were doing.”

It took a second for the vibes to return to normal, but when they did, Dorien was still left standing in the middle of the sitting area, perturbed.

What the fuck was that?

Dorien could confidently say that he knew Clovis well enough from their constant fraternizing over the past 5 or so years, so much so that he was sure that Clovis wasn’t drunk. Actually, no. He very well could have been, but he wouldn’t act like it.

He never acted drunk despite the amount he usually drank. He was a pro drunk. He might have drawn into himself more than usual, but he never acted out like that. Never stumbled, never broke anything, and definitely never spilled his drinks on anyone.

But, it just so happened that as Denis began to talk about Odette in such an unspeakable way, Clovis suddenly had butterfingers?

Dorien wasn’t mad about it, not in the slightest. Throwing red wine on that thousand-dollar suit was a tame alternative to what he was considering doing at the moment. But, it coming out of Clovis was what had him so struck.

Clovis had never been the one to really “defend” anybody’s honor in such a physical manner, let alone the honor of somebody he barely knew. Maybe lasting remnants of that crippling social anxiety he’d apparently had at some point. But, leave it to a beauty like Odette to change him so suddenly, right? No other person had anything on her, so maybe that was all it took.

Now that he was thinking about it, there was their fraternizing at the gala and his concern for her at the tea party, and now this…

Dorien had to be reading too much into it. Had to. His observations had to have been solely based on jealousy. Envy. That was his whole being.

If any man even remotely looked at Odette in an affectionate way, he wanted them dead, and he’d chalk that up to Inviderus’s presence. There was no escaping that. And these feelings, currently, were only being exacerbated by Pride. Sin Title holders always had more visceral reactions to sacrilege, no matter how light the dose.

But on the other hand, Denis was implying something about the rape and manslaughter case. Would Clovis even know about that enough to attempt to stop him from talking? It was made public, sure, but would somebody like Clovis even pay attention to something like that? Unless he went out of his way to look into it himself. But why would he?

Reading into it.

Trying to deduce things about the woman he loved and hated while high wasn’t wise.

He silently watched as Clovis once again traversed over to the drink counter again and took that opportunity to follow him. He didn’t rush, instead taking time to step over at a slow and steady pace. By the time he got to the billionaire’s side, he could see that he was lighting up another cigarette. Dorien pushed forward his best friendly smile as he leaned his backside against the counter and crossed his arms.

“That’s going to be a hefty dry cleaning bill,” he said politely.

“Eh,” Clovis said mid-drag. “Pocket change, honestly.”

Full of yourself, aren’t you? Dorien thought.

You’re one to talk, Inviderus chided.

He sighed loudly and scraped his foot against the carpeted floor, willing the musing to pass.

“Well, drunk or not,” he began, lowering his voice a little more for good measure, “I do appreciate how that shut him up. So thank you.”

The look Clovis gave him was a puzzled one. He didn’t say anything before taking another long breath from the cigarette. It nearly burnt the stick down to half. “It was an accident,” he eventually replied as the smoke streamed from his mouth. “Denis should know better than to talk about somebody else’s girlfriend like that. Better he learns the hard way from me being stupid than somebody more violent, I suppose.”

Dorien narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. So was it just an accident?

“Either way, I appreciate you, even unintentionally, defending her. He was pussyfooting around a touchy subject.”

Clovis’s eyebrows shot up. “No kidding,” he breathed, sounding moderately surprised. “I thought he was just being trashy.”

It could be a bluff, or he could be sincere. Actually, no. Definitely most likely lying. Dorien wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about that, but he did.

God, taking Pride was probably a bad idea. Not that he could have anticipated something like this.

“Oh, he was, but he was digging in a little too deep.”

As Dorien spoke, a flash of movement caught his peripheral vision. But it wasn’t just any flash of movement. It was the unmistakable movement of braids. Double braids.

Dorien didn’t bother to mask his eagerness as he turned toward the woman who had just walked by. She was curvaceous and dressed in perhaps the least revealing lingerie he’d seen tonight. However, as he’d seen, her hair was fashioned into that signature hairstyle he’d grown to long for.

She kneeled down near the chair Denis had previously been sitting in and produced some rags that Dorien hadn’t initially seen on her. As she began to wipe up the spilled beverages, it became abundantly clear that it wasn’t who he thought it was.

Odette was shorter. Odette was prettier. Odette wouldn’t be caught dead in an establishment like this.

Dorien unconsciously sighed and shut his eyes as he turned his head back to face Clovis. She was probably at home, sleeping right about now. Truly, he’d have rather been in her bed than sitting among these other women, even the Sinnohan one. Letting her crawl on him was…just a moment of weakness. Really, cuddling Odette sounded like some real bliss for several reasons.

Opening his eyes, he noticed Clovis was no longer looking at him…but was also staring at that braided dancer. His eyes seemed almost unblinking as he sucked more smoke from the cigarette.

Ohohoho, Inviderus snickered. Do you smell it? Do you smell that desire?

Dorien blinked once. Could it be true, then? Was he really on to something? Was it not just his drug-induced thoughts running wild?

The thought of that pushed him to the verge of madness. First Mr. Lambourne’s attention, and now there was a chance Clovis was longing for hers?

“So, what do you think of my other half?” he blurted casually. “Since we’re on the subject.”

“She’s entirely out of your league,” Clovis shot back without missing a beat. His gaze didn’t even move off the stripper.

There was no way it was that easy.

Suddenly, a half smile broke over Clovis’s lips, and he finally met his gaze again. “Kidding,” he said, sounding atrociously sincere. “You two make a fantastic couple.”

He might as well be green. Envy suits him flawlessly.

Envy suits him flawlessly.

Was Mr. Lambourne out to replace Dorien with this white-haired chain-smoking attention whore? But they had never met, so how would Mr. Lambourne even consider Clovis to be yet another suitable host for Inviderus? It simply did not make sense. Maybe...maybe he really was looking for a replacement for Lust? Given how often Clovis bought it, that would make more sense, wouldn't it? Right? He was thinking too hard about it. There was no way anybody could take Envy from him.

Nobody else could channel Inviderus as well as he did. Not one goddamn person. Nobody else could love Odette like he did either, even if there were moments he wanted to take her head off.

Except, maybe His Majesty. But that was parental love, which was much different from Dorien's affections, so it didn’t count.

If Mr. Lambourne couldn’t see that he was set, well, Dorien would make him. And if Clovis tried to get in the way of that—or of his pursuit of Odette’s affections—well, he’d end up dead in a ditch somewhere, wishing he had just stayed a shut-in.

Actually, it was a good thing Dorien had ingested some Pride. The hubris felt good. He was confident in his abilities to complete the mission to success while keeping Clovis LeClair away from Mr. Lambourne. He could convince His Majesty that he didn’t need another candidate; everything was fine.

“Not sure why you’re asking me, though,” Clovis continued. “I’m sure you’d rather hear what your boss says.”

Dorien felt his chest swell. Goodness, he could go on and on about that.

“He loves her,” he said cheerily. “Just from what I’ve mentioned.”

Clovis snickered, but it sounded a little forced. Good, maybe he was seething.

“That’s nice to hear. Does he have plans to meet her? Give a blessing for the wedding you keep fantasizing about?"

At that, Dorien frowned. As much as he swooned at the thought of Odette in a white dress, exchanging vows with him, that was still a long way off.

“No. Probably not anytime soon,” he muttered. That wasn’t a lie, either. Florent always preferred to hang back for things like this, even though he hated it in this particular scenario. He and Odette couldn't meet yet, unfortunately. Florent settled for getting his fill from whatever tidbits Dorien brought back, and all the pictures and videos they'd taken of her over the years.

Aside from that, they were so caught up in trying to get ahold of Venira that the thought of approaching Florent for a blessing was setting alarm bells off in Dorien's head. He was still on thin ice from the Vice Dust incident, so he needed to keep playing it safe. The goal of betrothing Odette to anybody was so far off Florent's radar it was practically nonexistent, and Dorien wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. As much as he wanted to.

“Sucks for you,” Clovis said after a beat. Taunting him. The fucking lowlife.

"Just a little," Dorien replied, clenching his jaw. "But he's full of surprises, so who knows."

Somewhere deep down, Dorien hoped it wouldn't be anytime soon. The further Florent stayed away from these people, the less chance he had to cross paths with Clovis.

"Well, nonetheless, I'm happy for you."

As you fucking should be, prick, Dorien thought angrily. And that was that. There didn't seem to be anything else pressing to talk about, aside from what liquor to drink next or plans for the rest of the week.

All Dorien needed to worry about was making it through the remainder of the get-together and how he would approach his next visit with the love of his life.

The sooner he could finish what he started, the sooner all of his annoyance would blow over.

 

[Sinderella]

Chapter 12: Navigating the Iceberg, Part 1

Spoiler: Content Warning(s)

CW: Strong Language, Horniness, Brief Talk of Suicide

Odette was quiet for the duration of the motorcycle ride over. Even when Noel would tap her on the shoulder to give her the next turn, she felt little need to give more than a grunt in response. Not that there was any use in talking over her helmet and the whir of her engine and passing cars, but it was the principle of the thing.

Was it the anticipation? Was it nerves? Was it lasting embarrassment from how her conversation with Clovis went down that left her at an absolute loss of words? The answer was yes.

She wasn’t expecting the ride to be as long as it was, but she should have guessed there wouldn’t be any Olympic-style ice rinks in Lumiose. The further they trekked out into the suburbs, closer to Brackish and Calanthe, the more a knot formed in her throat. Was this a good idea? Were they smart in mindlessly driving off to a location that Clovis had given to them? What if it wasn’t actually a rink but an empty scrap of land, and by the time they realized it was too late, they’d be surrounded by—

She sucked in a deep breath as she revved up the motorcycle’s engine and easily zipped between two sedans in front of her. No, the address was an ice rink. Noel double, triple, and quadruple-checked it before he gave her the go to agree to meet. Clovis would not be asking them to convene at a public place if he was up to anything nefarious.

Or, maybe that’s what he thought she’d think? Because he knew how astronomical her crush on him was and that even with her logical mindset, she’d still fall gullible to his charms and—

Gods. For as often as she told herself to keep her proverbial shit together, it was getting progressively harder as the days went on. Especially when said days were filled with tasks like cracking open a region-wide conspiracy.

As she pulled into the parking lot of their destination, she peered up at the official-looking sign even as she drove around to the empty bike parking spot.

Sheer Cold Olympic Ice Rink

“Well,” Noel said, his voice muffled by her spare helmet. He raised the visor, probably realizing that much. “Looks exactly like the street view did, so at least we know he wasn’t lying.”

Odette kept her eyes locked on the sign, and it was a long while before she felt like she could move again. Swirling thoughts of what was to come kept her rooted to her seat.

It wasn’t until she felt a gust of wind hit her bare neck that she flinched out of her almost-catatonic state. She’d been startled at first but significantly relaxed when she saw it was just Elton. He’d followed them over after giving Noel grief about being put in his ball for the ride.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that look,” Noel snapped as Elton hovered in front of him, sending him something of an unamused glare. “I just figured with the possibility of rain, you would have rather been in the damn ball.”

The mention of the weather prompted Odette to look up at the sky. Overcast, 5 degrees Celsius, and a 20% chance of a downpour. It seemed fitting for such a dark-coated investigation, but she’d wished the mating Castform had been slightly kinder with the temperature. She already felt the chill of her nerves so some sunlight would have been ideal. Of course, this was Kalos, and even when the Castform weren’t causing grief, there was no guarantee of that.

She finally pulled off her helmet and shook out her braids before freeing up a hand to adjust her glasses.

“Let’s get a move on, then.”

***

The lobby was what she expected. Several celebratory banners hung from the ceiling, and the walls were covered in plaques and cases full to the brim of gold-plated trophies. Photos upon photos of the many professional figure skaters and hockey players who walked from the building were hanging proudly for all new patrons to see. And, most importantly, there seemed to be quite a few people around.

Just walking through the lobby alone, there were some characters dressed in both hockey gear and what looked to be dancewear. The figure skaters, probably. The sport wasn’t too far off from actual dance.

“Wow,” Noel commented. “How victorious.”

“Braaaayveeee,” Elton chirped in agreement from his perch on Noel’s shoulders. As the bird spoke, Odette reached into the side pocket of her backpack and grasped Isaur’s ball.

“Come, be among your essence,” she said as she pressed down on the release and watched as Isaur faded into view. The froslass stretched her arms above her head before pressing them into her back and pushing on it until a sound ‘crack’ rang out. When she appeared adequately lean, she sent Odette a tired look.

“Fross?”

Odette scoffed. “I don’t know if there’s a damn snack bar. We’ll look later.”

She didn’t bother to ensure that that was a good enough answer because she unzipped her jacket pocket and fetched RotomPhone, which she wasted no time unlocking.

“So. Where is he?” Noel asked, leaning over Odette’s shoulder to look at her screen. He shrugged his shoulders, prompting Elton to hover.

“He said we had to ask for somebody,” Odette answered as she pulled up their virtual exchange. “Somebody named…Val?”

Noel pursed his lips. “An assistant, maybe? I’d bet somebody with his net worth has an assistant or ten.”

To that, Odette shrugged. “He didn’t specify, but I assume that’s the case.” She broke her gaze on her phone to take another look around the lobby until she found what she was looking for. The help desk, sitting conveniently close to the front door. Even more so, somebody was manning it. Perfect. She motioned toward it with her head, and Noel, Elton, and Isaur took that as a signal to follow her.

The clerk, a young woman who was wearing a retainer, beamed at them as they approached. Odette’s eyes fell on her name tag, which was decorated with crudely drawn stars and hearts. It read Amelie.

“Hello!” Amelie greeted. “How can I help you?”

Odette took another quick look back at her phone as she leaned onto the counter with her elbows. “Yeah, hi,” she said. “We’re looking for somebody named Val?”

Amelie’s eyes lit up with a sense of familiarity. “Oh!” she said. “You must be the visitors he mentioned. He’s in Rink B, down past the stairs. You can just head on in.”

Blinking a few times, Odette turned to exchange a look with Noel, then Elton, then Isaur, before pocketing her phone and sending a friendly salute as she stepped away. “Thanks so much.”

Noel didn’t make a comment until they were well out of earshot. “Am I wrong for being impressed that that was so easy?” he asked, keeping his voice low as they passed two giggling teens and a set of weaviles, all with skates slung over their shoulders.

“Am I wrong for being so concerned that that was so easy?” Odette responded with a raised brow.

“What, were you expecting some James Bond-level security and secret underground headquarters?”

She paused to consider her response. Eventually, she nodded. “Honestly, yeah. I would think Virtue Corp operatives would be more secure than that, right?”

“Maybe Val is the security. Maybe it’s code.”

“Frosssslass,” Isaur said in agreement. Odette supposed that could be the case, but why send them down to a specific rink? Or say anything about expecting visitors?

They turned into the doorway brandished with a large letter B, and upon pulling open the doors, they were met with a gust of icy chill, followed by incessant masculine laughter.

From their vantage point at the entrance to the rink, Odette could see the rink was definitely in use. A group of seven men and some assorted Pokemon, all mostly dressed to practice some skating, were gathered toward the center of the rink, chattering about gods knew what. The room was empty otherwise.

“I’ll start off by saying that I’m all for this,” Noel said under his breath as they let the doors slip shut.

That she could agree with. As she drew closer to the edge of the barrier around the ice, it was abundantly clear to her that this group of men probably flocked together because they were all fucking gorgeous. Even their Pokemon looked well-groomed and carried an air of confidence.

The men's tight-fitting practice outfits accentuated every muscle, every curve, and every lean feature of their seemingly perfect bodies. She supposed she should have expected that much from figure skaters, being that dancer boys usually didn’t look much different. But gods, she didn’t remember gawking at dancer boys the same way she was doing now.

“Which one of them do you think is Val?” Noel asked with a snicker as he moved up next to her.

“I don’t care,” she droned. “I’d be happy with any of them.” She wondered if there was some scientific name for a huddle of tall and handsome skaters. They certainly were a marvel, that was for sure.

When the fuck did I become so horny? she thought in sudden aggravation. With a firm shake of her head, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest as if that would somehow stop her brain from wandering. Her thing for Clovis was plenty enough to be dealing with. She needn’t over-exert her lust by adding another face to the roster.

She quickly broke her stare on the group to hunt down a place to sit. Her eyes caught on a set of bleachers just off to her left, and she made for them without saying a word, setting her helmet down beside her as she sat.

"I've been prowling the wrong market. This is where it's at," Noel spoke from his spot next to her.

She stifled a laugh as she turned to look at him, and whatever snide remark she had prepared shriveled up and died on her tongue when she was met with the sight of him holding a pair of binoculars to his eyes. Without a second thought, she reached over and tried to yank them out of his hands. However, he had them out of her reach before her fingers could even graze them.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Odette asked through her clenched teeth. "Don't be a pervert."

Noel scoffed in mock irritation. "Miss Ma'am, how many competitions do you think the lot of them have competed in where they had cameras and," he shook the binoculars in front of her nose, "hundreds of these stupid things pointed at them?" he shot back. "Surely they won't mind my problematic, deprived gay ass having a couple seconds of fill."

He nudged her off with his elbow and peered back through the binoculars again, leaving Odette to bury her face in her hands. She only stayed like that for a moment because the group hooting and hollering made her look up.

One of them—a tall, very lean yet muscular brunette—had skated away from the gathering and was taking a quick lap around the rink, gradually building up speed. Odette had gone ice skating several times in the past and had no issues keeping her balance on the skates, but him? He looked like he was practically flying over the ice. Like his blades were barely making contact. It was so effortless she almost felt jealous.

Then, without any indication of what he would do next, he quickly turned, so he was now skating backward, and with a few moments of prep, he launched himself into a backflip. Odette watched wide-eyed as he landed seamlessly before stumbling ever so slightly. He didn’t fall, though. He regained his balance and seemed to bask in the cheers that rang out from his group.

He slowed to a stop mere feet from the others and adjusted his protective glasses on his face before his eyes met Odette’s. She could practically feel the heat travel down to the point of her nose and disperse across her cheeks as he grinned at her. He tilted his head, almost questioningly, before turning to acknowledge his friends again.

For some reason, that smile felt familiar. She couldn’t pinpoint why. Maybe all pretty boys just smiled the same. That wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.

However, he was still relatively far away, so maybe she really was just horny. And after watching such a strong display of athleticism and grace, who could blame her? What a show.

She held her hand out to Noel. “Gimme.”

She didn’t need to be looking at him to know that stupid fucking smirk had spread over his lips. She felt the binoculars fall into her palm and held them to her glasses.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Noel teased in a voice that was meant to sound reminiscent of hers. “Don’t be a pervert.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you. My eyes are busy.”

Noel’s snicker still wasn’t enough to deter her from taking a good, zoomed-in look at each of them. But, as she did, she vaguely began to return to her senses and started to wonder what the fuck they were doing there. Were they just supposed to wait for this Val person to show up? Was he out there on the ice like they’d initially been anticipating? What was even the point of waiting?

“I wish the answers to our questions were tattooed on one of their foreheads,” she muttered. “Then maybe I’d have a concrete reason for doing this.”

“Same, but I’d want it somewhere a little lower.”

It took her a moment to register the meaning of those words, but she eventually snickered. Her head shook, but she didn’t move the binoculars off her eyes. “We’re fucking disgusting,”

“No, we just know the top-shelf wines when we see them,” Noel chided. “And we’re in the mood to get a little hammered.”

That was a nice metaphor for being horny. She decided to hang onto it so she felt less…desperate.

"Fross. Froslass," Isaur said, nudging her.

"Hang on, man, I'm a little preoccupied," Odette replied.

As she buried Noel's pretty words into some shallow pocket in her brain, she began to hunt down the brunette again to really get a good look at his face and that smile. However, she couldn’t find him. Even as she moved back and forth between the others, it seemed like he’d disappeared.

She dropped the binoculars down to get a normal look, brow furrowed in what felt like a mix of confusion and disappointment.

“Enjoying the view?”

Odette felt her blood run cold. Colder than the air around her had initially made it. She knew the voice, and it didn’t belong to Noel. Isaur let out a quiet snicker, and Odette resisted the urge to turn and glare at her.

Her knack for getting distracted by a pretty face would prove extremely detrimental if it kept up. She hadn’t even realized anybody had left the ice and walked over to them, and for somebody as observant as she tended to be, that was a big no-no. It was evident Noel and Elton hadn’t noticed anything either; their collective surprised gasps said that well enough.

Eyes slipping shut, she set the binoculars in her lap. Anger had started to build up alongside her unfathomable embarrassment, and she needed a moment to calm herself before she faced who had caught her with her hand in the poffin jar. Slowly, she turned her head and had to clench a fist to keep herself steady when she saw it was the same brunette she’d been looking for, now sitting mere inches from her, only separated by her helmet.

That wasn't who she thought it was. She thought she knew Clovis's voice well, but it wasn't him. It didn't look like him. Did pretty men sound the same too? Or...

He was smiling in amusement. Perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. But not too white that it looked unnatural, but just white enough that they looked clean. Maybe they were natural, or maybe they were veneers. It didn’t matter because his smile really was just perfect.

No, she knew that face. She knew that smile. She wasn't crazy. It felt familiar for a reason.

“Fross!” Isaur declared. The suddenness of the outburst made Odette flinch. Brunette simply chuckled.

“Nice to see you too, Isaur,” he said.

He pulled the goggles off, and her suspicions were confirmed. The brown hair and brown eyes had totally thrown her off, but she'd been right.

It was Clovis.

“What the fuck, I didn’t even recognize you,” Noel wheezed.

Odette still felt like she was still processing the visual, but her gears had rusted over.

“Good, that means I’m safe,” Clovis responded casually, scratching behind his ear.

“Hey Val,” one of the other skaters called from the ice. “Are you done for now?”

Clovis held up a thumb. “I’ve got a meeting with some newbies, so I’m out.”

That was enough for the skater because he turned back to whatever he’d been doing before. Odette was so occupied with staring at this new version of her crush that she wasn’t paying too much attention to the rest of the group anymore.

“Val?” she queried incredulously.

“Mm,” Clovis hummed. He pushed himself up to stand and began to step off the bleachers. Perfectly balanced on his clean white skates, no less. “Let’s go to my office.”

In other words, she'd be better off not drilling him until they were in private. She understood that much. A good choice, too, because she was a second away from firing off multiple questions at once and might not have been able to control her volume.

Everything was moving way too fast all of a sudden. Her body began to navigate on pure autopilot as she, Noel, Elton, and Isaur followed him out of the arena, through the lobby, and over to the second floor. She continued to be thrown as each person they passed greeted him, and he had no issues matching their energy.

“Sup Val,” some young teenager in full hockey gear said as he hobbled past them.

“Looking good, Quintin,” Clovis replied jokingly as he patted the teen’s helmet.

“Good afternoon, Val,” a much older-looking girl greeted. She held her Alolan vulpix partner snuggly to her chest, and it cooed in a similar greeting.

“Good afternoon, Angela, Diamond. How’s your ankle?” he asked.

“Better today,” Angela said. “I massaged it like you told me to, and Diamond helped me ice it, so I think I’m good to go.”

At another point, a young girl, no older than 10, rushed up to Clovis excitedly with her smoochum in tow. He was quick to kneel down to the girl’s height.

“Val, Val!” she said breathlessly. “I got my triple today! I did it! And Smoochum got her sit spin!”

Clovis gasped excitedly and held his hands up for the girl and Smoochum to high-five. “That’s fantastic, guys. Keep practicing, and I’ll come to watch you two later.”

Odette was absolutely floored. It was like she was in the presence of a completely different person. None of these skaters seemed to have the slightest idea about what their Val did on his days off. Though, to be fair, she’d had no idea what her Clovis did on his days off until now.

“Damn, you’re quite the celebrity,” Noel commented quietly. It was enough for Clovis to hear because he peered at him over his shoulder, something of a smirk on his lips.

“It is my arena, after all.”

***​

The office was exactly what Odette expected from the owner of an ice arena.

It overlooked the same rink they’d just been in, with a window that took up the entirety of the back wall. Against it was a large desk with an organized mess of papers, books, and an empty cup. The walls themselves were decorated floor to ceiling with awards, plaques, flags, medals, everything. Almost as victorious as the lobby. A set of black leather loveseats bordered a glass coffee table in the middle of the room, and that’s where Odette found herself immediately walking to as she entered to set her helmet down. Noel did the same with his.

“Please, make yourselves at home,” Clovis said as he held the door open for them. He let it slip shut before walking over to the window and closing its blinds.

As they slipped shut, his demeanor change was instant.

His shoulders deflated, and he hunched over tiredly as an exasperated sigh clawed out of his throat. He sat on the edge of his desk and aggressively tugged at the knots on his skates before kicking them off unceremoniously. Now barefoot, he stomped his way to the far corner of the office, where a mini bar—stacked to the brim with bottles of varying liquors—stood, flanked by numerous filing cabinets.

He was swift as he grabbed a glass, filling it with ice and dumping some clear-ish brown liquid into it. He swirled it around for a moment before completely downing it.

“Rum?” Noel asked with a scoff.

“You wish,” Clovis snapped back, still facing the bar. He sounded positively exhausted. “Whiskey.”

Odette sent Noel a worried look, and he returned one that was a little more amused.

“He okay?” Noel mouthed. All she could do was shrug.

“Being a rink owner that much of a headache?” Noel pressed again as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Clovis, pouring another drink, snickered. “Oh no. This is entirely unrelated to the rink. Please, have a seat. I’ll be with you once I’ve adequately warmed up.”

“Brayveeee,” Elton suddenly chirped. Odette turned her head as fast as Noel did, but Noel was the first to approach him. The bird was staring at some of the awards nailed to one of the walls and seemed quite interested in them. Odette might have followed, but for the moment, she found that she was more worried about Clovis’s state of mind. Who the hell had a fully stocked drink bar in their office? It must have been a billionaire thing. Or an alcoholic thing.

She felt something nudge her leg and looked down to see Isaur wiggling her brow.

“Fross,” she urged, nodding her head toward Clovis. Odette began to shake her head frantically. Approach him and do what? Ask how he was feeling about the weather?

As she shook her head, Noel grabbed her sleeve and yanked her over to the wall. The sudden movement caused her to stumble, but Noel caught her just in time and held her in a manner to ensure she was staring straight at the wall of awards. Her eyes landed on a gold plaque.

Rookie of the Year
Valentin Ménétries

She read the name over and over again. The first name, then the last name. For some reason, it took her a lot longer than it should have to register the significance of either of them. With a few slow blinks, her eyes traveled up to another award.

Valentin Ménétries. Valentin Ménétries.

Ménétries. Valentin. Val.

Odette’s mouth went slack, and she cautiously turned her head to meet Noel’s wide eyes.

“Holy—” she started to whisper.

“J.L. Ménétrie—” Noel gasped. The loudness of his voice caused Odette to jump, and she flailed toward him just in time to slap her hands over his mouth.

“I’m sorry, what?”

For the second time, Odette felt her blood run cold. She watched as Noel’s eyes danced with a mix of embarrassment and fear as her look hardened into a glare. They exchanged something silent--something that said "do not say another goddamn word"--before simultaneously turning toward Clovis.

Glass in hand, he was now glaring at them. Glaring.

“You want to say that again?” he urged.

Odette steadily pulled her hands off Noel’s mouth. “We were just reading your awards. Super impressive, I have to say,” she replied without missing a beat.

“Where did you get ‘J.L.’ from?”

She felt her words do somersaults against her tongue, and Noel spoke before she did. “We were just…talking about somebody else we knew,” he offered. He flashed his teeth in a casual-looking smile, but Odette could tell he was panicked.

Clovis stared at them intently. He still appeared absolutely ethereal, even though it was clear he was very cross at the moment.

“Alright, you know what?” he said evenly. “I’m going to take another sip of my drink, and that should give you two ample time to get your story together.”

As he spoke, he set down the empty glass he was holding and kept his eyes on them as he wrapped his fingers around the neck of that same whiskey bottle. He effortlessly popped the cork off, then held it to his lips to chug whatever was left.

Odette didn’t know whether or not to be concerned about his state of mind or completely awestruck by his tolerance. She stole a look at Noel once more, who had his mouth open in what looked to be admiration, so she just decided to follow that lead.

“I—“ she stammered. “I bet you were a hit at keggers.”

“I’ll say,” Noel added in agreement.

“That’s not what we’re here to talk about now, is it?” Clovis shot back, setting the bottle down without bothering to cork it again. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his hand before pushing himself off the bar and walking over to them.

“Now, what was it that you said just now?”

With a better look at his eyes, she could see that he truly just looked frazzled. Stressed. Maybe even a tad unhinged. He held himself better than any other unhinged person she’d ever met before, but she started worrying about what was going on inside his head to have him be like this.

Closing her eyes, she exhaled calmly through her nose. They were there to answer each other’s questions, right? Well, she had her first one ready. And she had no way to ask it without revealing what she knew.

“J.L. Ménétries,” she said. She hitched her shoulders back to allow herself an air of confidence while she spoke. Showing she wasn’t just there to fuck around with him. “As in, J.L. Ménétries of Virtue Corp.”

The exhaustion fled off Clovis’s face, chased away by a sudden burst of alarm. His brows lowered, and he tilted his head ever so slightly. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but he struggled to word himself.

“H…how do you know that name? Either of them?”

Odette licked her teeth and averted her eyes toward the covered window. Her hands retreated to her pockets, and she shifted her left leg uncomfortably.

“I’m a bit of a snoop,” she muttered.

“A snoop?”

She tried to refrain from flinching. “I found some correspondence on my grandpa’s desk. He’s the chief of the LCPD, as you know, and I can’t keep my hands to myself.”

If he was going to yell at her for some reason, she wished he’d just do it. Get it over with. Tell her she was in some sort of legal trouble for tampering with confidential documents. Something. The longer he stood there, staring at them in disbelief, the more she felt like she might shrivel up and perish.

She almost had a heart attack when he broke into a frantic bout of laughter.

He was absolutely hysterical. One of his hands hovered over his stomach as he stumbled his way over to his desk and threw himself down into the giant leather chair that sat behind it. It was only then that he calmed down, but not by much.

“Well, we’re off to a fantastic start,” he breathed. The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear, and he began shaking his head. “And here I was, stressed about having to explain the concept of another organization to you. Perhaps I underestimated how much research you’ve actually done.”

The seconds it took her to build up the will to respond passed like hours. “You’re not mad?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just a tad blown away by you.” His smile shrunk to something more bashful. “Drink’s not really helping me, so I apologize for the outburst.”

Heat once more found its way into her cheeks, and she nearly reached up to cover them. That might have made it more obvious, so she forced her hands to remain glued to her sides.

“Don’t know what you expected from the granddaughter of a cop and her genius bestie,” she said defiantly.

Clovis continued to shake his head. “So, what else have you two managed to ‘snoop’ through?” he suddenly asked.

“Not so fast,” she shot back, pointing a finger at him. “I already answered a lot of questions; now it’s your turn.”

Clovis scoffed. He was no longer shaking his head. Instead, he leaned far back into his expensive-looking office chair, his unwavering brown eyes still locked on them as he rubbed his fingers together. But, at some point, he gave her a relenting gesture.

“Floor’s yours,” he said.

Odette pursed her lips and turned to meet Noel’s eyes again. They were wide and accompanied by an urging nod. She once again found herself thankful to be in this with somebody she knew so well because he didn’t need to say a word for her to know what he was telling her to ask.

“Are you…him?” she spoke. “Do you work for Virtue Corp?” She knew the answer to that second question. But he didn’t need to know that yet.

“More like ‘am a slave’ to Virtue Corp,” he responded bluntly. “And gods, no. Don’t insult me.”

Clovis pushed himself up to stand and slowly but surely made his way around to the front of his desk. It was hard to tell if he was drunk at that point. He masked it exceedingly well. “J.L. Ménétries is my father. Virtue Corps’ gracious founder. I’m merely his no good, spiteful son, Valentin,” he declared with an air of mockery, stopping to lean back against the desk and cross his arms.

“And that’s—?” Odette pressed.

“My real name? Correct,” he answered. “Clovis LeClair is my…” he trailed off as if he were at a loss for explaining himself. “My adopted identity.”

“Your adopted identity,” Noel repeated doubtfully.

“Right. Because Clovis LeClair actually is a real person,” Odette surmised. She wouldn’t admit she had about 20 pages of notes about him in her backpack because nobody besides Noel and her Pokemon team ever needed to know that.

A cringe from Clovis—now Valentin—that soon gave way into a nervous-looking smirk. “Was a real person,” he corrected.

“You killed him?” Noel gasped.

Valentin forced a sour laugh. He didn’t find the outburst funny. “Of course not. He did that himself.”

Odette blanched, her body going stiff as Noel looked at her frantically.

“What do you mean he did it to himself?” she said. “You can’t just say that and not fucking elaborate. Nowhere did I see anything about Clovis LeClair being dead.”

Valentin huffed dismissively and, in a swift motion, pulled the brown hair right off the top of his head—a wig, as Odette could now see—revealing those more familiar silver locks underneath. He carelessly threw the headpiece down onto the desk, landing on top of some papers and causing the pile to shift. She didn’t have a spare moment to be thrown by it, as she was already preoccupied with the speculation that Clovis LeClair was no longer alive.

“Mm. You definitely wouldn’t. The LeClairs made sure of that for the sake of our investigation,” he answered, speaking as casually as one would if they were merely discussing a sporting event.

She just blinked. As if that would make anything he said make sense to her. “Investigation?”

“You lost me,” Noel said. Thank gods because it’d have taken another two minutes even to formulate such a response. “Are you Valentin, or are you Clovis? Why are you wearing a wig; why are your eyes brown?”

Nodding knowingly, Valentin lowered his chin and began to flex his foot. He spent a few seconds stretching the right, then the left. Odette could see the knot that had formed on his forehead, which indicated to her that he was most likely thinking something over.

“I’m skipping a lot of steps here,” he replied. “Why don’t you do me a favor and catch me up on where your heads are, and I’ll just start to fill in your blanks.”

“Well,” Noel started after moments of tense silence, “we know sacrilege is affecting mainly the wealthy and shiny Pokemon. We're pretty sure we know Team Enigma exists. We...don't exactly know if Virtue Corp is good or bad.”

“I knew you were lying about something,” Odette picked up sheepishly. “And we’ve obviously seen those Pokemon.”

And I know you’ve been following me for a while. And that those things we saw are called blood types. And that you’re scared of Enora. And that there’s some uncanny resemblance I shouldn’t know about right now.

Though, she’d be getting ahead of herself if she dropped any of that now. She wasn’t ready to release all of the stops just yet.

“What about your boyfriend?” Valentin said quickly. Nevermind how it seemed like he had that question on standby this entire time, but she had to refrain from growling.

“I know he’s up to something.”

“I’m aware of that much, but what are your actual thoughts on him?” he pressed. He sounded tenacious.

“We’re being honest here, right?”

“That is the goal, Miss Cinq-Mars.”

She allowed the exchange to linger in the air, giving herself time to process the words and how Valentin looked as he said them: unmoving. Clear eye contact. Neutral expression. No sign of fidgeting anymore.

“I think he’s doing sacrilege,” she stated. “I think…he’s involved with Team Enigma.”

She didn’t want to say the last thing on her mind, but the more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

“I want to wring his neck.”

Valentin sighed, and she was actually startled at how relieved it sounded.

“Great, this isn’t an ‘I can fix him’ scenario. You are truly just in this for the answers.”

For a passing second, Odette wanted to scream. So it was true; he actually thought she was in love with Dorien? She couldn’t even be happy about that testament to her acting skills. Not when it meant her crush was going belly up like a dead magikarp right before her eyes.

“If it’s any consolation, that makes two of us,” he added with a slight chuckle.

“Three of us,” Noel interjected.

“Fross,” Isaur said from the couch.

“Brayvee,” Elton declared, sitting on top of one of the filing cabinets.

That winning smile returned to Valentin’s face. It was far more welcome than any of the others he’d shown them since getting up to the office. He was still gorgeous. “I’m thrilled that we’re all on that same page.”

“So you guys do hate each other?” Odette blurted.

As quick as the smile had come, it was gone. Odette found herself regretting asking as Valentin’s eyes began to shine with that same panic that had come through when he made his slip at the gala. “Was it obvious?”

“At first glance? No,” she assured him. That was the truth. “But, the more I stared at you two? Absolutely.”

Her response didn’t appear to help, and now Odette was starting to panic herself. She stumbled over what to say next until Noel cleared his throat.

“I was none the wiser if it helps,” he said. That was also true. “Dee has an unmatched ability to read people. Don’t feel bad.”

Valentin eyed her warily, and she shrugged.

Luckily, that got the point across. Valentin nodded once, his stare settling back into something a little calmer, and he smiled again. “I suppose I knew that. All things considered.”

More heat on her face. At this rate, Odette felt like she’d need to stick her head back into that fucking ice rink air to keep herself under control.

“I can’t speak for him, but I absolutely want to murder him,” Valentin elaborated. “Why do you think I just downed a quarter of a whiskey bottle? Not even my happy place gets him out of my goddamned head.”

He raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I was with him last night, and I’m still reeling. Not to mention, I’ve been dreading this conversation for days already because I’d assumed I would have to give you the entire rundown and that just—” His words had started to pour out, and he stopped himself before they completely overtook him. He took a deep, leveling breath.

“…pardon if I seem a little out of it.”

“No. I get it,” Odette replied. Now his display made all the sense in the world. She'd be in a similar boat if she were much of a drinker. “I have to decompress when I get away from him too.”

“Well, you’re worse off than me. I couldn’t imagine having to kiss and talk about marriage with him. You’re a fantastic actress because you certainly had me fooled.”

It was her turn to sigh in relief, but she was mindful about being as obvious about it. At least now he understood that what she was putting on display for Dorien wasn’t real. And that she was still technically single and available. Maybe all wasn’t lost just yet.

However, she had to focus.

“Why, did you think you’d have to convince me to turn against my loving significant other?” she teased. Something lighthearted, mostly for herself. But it seemed to help him, too, because he smirked at her.

“Correct. But, being that he does do sacrilege—religiously—and is indeed a member of Team Enigma, that might have been much easier than I anticipated."

His tone was just as teasing as hers, but it didn’t stop her expression from falling. She supposed she should have been at least somewhat excited that she’d been correct, but all she felt at that moment was the urge to throw up.

“Does he give it to his ‘mon?” she asked, trying not to sound as numb as she felt.

Valentin hesitated. “Yes.”

“And how deep in Enigma is he?”

Another pause. “As deep as you can get. Direct contact with their leader-deep.”

Gods, that fucking… she thought in disbelief. She had a feeling but didn’t realize it was like that.

“Fuck me,” she said through her clenched teeth. “And you’re talking like there’s more to that.”

“Because there is,” Valentin said. "I also have to convince you that Virtue Corp is on your side. We're totally and completely against Team Enigma and everything it stands for."

"Alright, that's a move in the right direction," Odette said.

“But what exactly do you mean ‘the entire rundown’? And ‘skipping steps’? Is there really some big ol’ fucking conspiracy going on here aside from the fact that Dorien’s a much bigger skeeze than we thought he was?” Noel said. Obviously eager to get the show further down the road. Odette was thankful for that much because she felt herself starting to spiral the more they lingered on that topic.

She had a strong feeling that wouldn’t end any time soon.

“It sounds like you’ve dug a partial bit of the way down.” Valentin chuckled lightly. “I figured I’d have to try to convince you that I wasn’t just telling you a convenient story about a double identity and another mysterious organization. I'll settle for just explaining why we're on the good side.”

“This is only partial?” Noel exclaimed. "I'm all for hearing how Virtue Corp is the hero side here, but holy shit, what more is there?"

At that, Valentin just sighed. He brought his hands up in front of his face and folded them in front of his mouth in what looked to be contemplation.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” he said darkly. “But I need you all to understand that you have stepped into some deep shit. If this scenario were an iceberg, I’d say you haven’t yet reached the water. I asked you to meet with me to clear the fog so you know what you’ve stuck yourselves into and so you know how to proceed going forward.”

He looked genuine. Spoke genuinely. His eyes were narrow in seriousness; they had no sense of alarm. They were still quite easy to read, even though they were no longer blue. Somehow, the brown actually looked nicer on him. Dark, but she could still see some flecks of gold within them. So strange for this man who she had come to associate with such cool colors.

Was that his natural eye color? Or were they contacts? Or were the blue hues she’d met him with the fake ones? Regardless, it all worked on him because, of course, everything about him just worked. Still, it was exciting to be able to see this new side of him. That meant he trusted them, right? And trust was the foundation for a friendship, and perhaps something more than—

I’m gonna stab myself, she thought in annoyance.

She focused on his little speech, her brain going to work trying to figure out what it was they might not have known, while her chest filled with warring senses of unease, infatuation, and curiosity. She had been getting a bad feeling that they were dealing with something far bigger than they had planned, but the way Valentin announced it made her feel "bigger than they had planned" was an understatement.

“Then, I’ll kick off with another question. What the fuck are those Pokemon, and what do they have to do with shinies?” she queried.

Valentin’s eyes slipped shut as he started to nod expectantly. He probably saw that question coming from miles away. With a deep exhale, he unfolded his arms and used them to pull himself up onto the desk, where he crossed his legs and tucked his hand under his cheek.

“And I’ll counter you,” he said. “Do any of you know of a man named Florent Lambourne?”