Astra scrutinized the park carefully. It was a nice, wide open area lined with trees, filled with soft grass and even a good sized pond. A number of odd structures littered the far side of the field, tubes and rods and even some sort of small fort, and Astra guessed they were meant to be an obstacle course of some sort. To the side a couple of rectangular arenas had been marked out and culled of grass, leaving packed earth ready and waiting for combatants.

Thankfully, the park was also much emptier than the last three Pokemon Parks they had visited, with only a few kids—and a lot of bugs—taking turns in one of the arenas and a woman by the pond playing fetch with a Surskit. The others had been packed to the point of annoyance, with barely any room to spare. She wanted to spend time around her friends, not random strangers!

“I think this is as good as we’re going to get, guys,” Astra said, turning to May and Brendan. The three trainers had met up and set out from Astra and May’s hotel lobby only a short while ago. With five mostly free days to burn and hopefully no more catastrophes lurking in the foliage, the first course of business was some good old quality time with their companions, new, old, and changed alike. With a solid eight hours of bright sunshine ahead of them, it was a perfect time to do so.

Astra breathed in, the cleaner air and faint whiffs of the morning’s dew leaving her feeling refreshed and ready for the day. “I have to say,” she added, “It’s not bad.”

Brendan nodded in agreement. “I’m surprised we found one this empty,” he said, taking a moment to stretch his arms over his head. He twisted from side to side, then let his arms fall, smiling. “Seems perfect for a few hours of fun!”

“And you wanted to use the gym,” May accused lightly, smirking.

“It would have been faster!” Brendan defended. “But you’re right; it would have been a shame to miss out on all the sun.”

“So what should we do first?” Astra asked. Her only ball was broken, and she couldn’t really play Rebound in the open anyhow.

“Best way to start things off is to get everybody out in the open,” Brendan decided, plucking a quartet of pokeballs from his belt. “I’ve caught two other pokemon since Petalburg, and I’m guessing both of you can say something similar?”

“You’ve got that right,” May affirmed, drawing out her own set of four.

“Seems like we’ve all got four,” Astra observed, her own pokeballs falling neatly into her hands. “All together, then?”

“Sounds good to me,” Brendan nodded, grinning. “One...”

“Two!” May continued, rearing back.

“Three!” Astra shouted, throwing her pokeballs high into the air. “Come on out, everybody!”

A brief wave of electronic noise washed over the park as a dozen pokeballs opened simultaneously. Astra smiled as Grovyle, Marill, and Slakoth shimmered into being, and she gave a nod of acknowledgement to Nincada. Marill and Slakoth immediately noticed Grovyle’s new form and congratulated him in their own ways—Marill enviously stomped her feet and uttered declarations of war, while Slakoth gave a very firm thumbs up with a smile. Grovyle received all this with a proud grin, puffing up and nonchalantly brushing aside the singular, long leaf that made up his ‘hair’. Nincada looked on from the side curiously, but made no move to join them.

To Astra’s side, May let out an enthusiastic, drawn out “Hey~!” as she scratched around Combusken’s large frill. Her other hand found its way to Poochyena’s ears, the dark hound’s tail wagging furiously as he rubbed his head against May’s leg. May laughed, then paused and looked around. She winced.

Astra followed her gaze to see Lotad ferrying a rather sour-faced Tentacool toward the water. “Ah fuck,” May muttered, then broke out of the scratch session to run over and help.

Shaking her head, Astra turned toward Brendan’s selection of cohorts. She recognized Marshtomp and Whismur, the former prodding at the latter curiously as Whismur clutched onto Brendan’s leg in shaky wariness. But the other two were new.

One was a pokemon Astra had seen many times before: a Shroomish, a tannish bulb on two wide, stumpy feet. But the normally green underbelly and spots on her overcoat were instead a striking shade of orange. Her voice was airy yet excitable, and a flurry of excited demands in the form of rapid fire “Mish-mish!?” filled the air as she plodded up to her trainer.

Brendan's last companion was a creature Astra had never seen before. A roiling mass of bubbling burnt orange lurched across the ground, leaving charred black grass in its wake. A large ovoid head sat atop the blob, staring at Brendan with two wide, unblinking eyes surrounded by great, flaming eyebrows.

“Slug,” it intoned, low-pitched voice eerily calm as it inched towards Brendan. “Ma, slugma slug. Ma.”

Astra blinked rapidly. That was...quite a lot of wrath percolating around the creature. A quick check of her Pokedex revealed the creature's name as ‘Slugma’, and while she didn’t know what magma was—(...molten rock? Rocks could melt? Well, metal could, so...)—apparently it would solidify and shed its own skin in even moderately chilly weather.

“What an...interesting pokemon,” Astra managed, frowning at the small black flecks she could see forming in Slugma’s skin. “Hey, Brendan, is your Slugma going to be okay out here? He’s starting to, uh,” she paused, searching for a word. “Congeal.”

Brendan looked up from reassuring Whismur, blinking. “Oh, Slugma? Yeah, he’ll be fine. Not that you’d know from how he tells it.” He shook his head, smiling as Slugma came closer. “He’s a big whiner, that one. It’s not dangerous for Slugma to go about in normal weather for a few hours, but he goes on like he’ll freeze rock solid in minutes if he doesn’t get some fire flakes.”

“SLUUUGMAAA!” Slumga suddenly erupted, his eyebrows flaring a foot into the air. “SLUUUUUG—!”

Brendan rolled his eyes and pulled a small bag out of his pocket. “Such a drama queen,” he said, sprinkling a few golden-red squares over the molten blob.

Slugma quickly snapped the drifting flakes out of the air, crooning contentedly. Astra blinked as his emotions flipped from wrath incarnate to utter contentment in a single instant. What a volatile personality.

“I see you’ve gotten yourself some good pokemon,” Brendan said, looking over at Astra’s group. “A Marill, a Slakoth, and...did you get that Nincada yesterday?”

Astra nodded. “Yeah, it was part of a small swarm. It managed to take out Marill and wanted to come with, so I figured I might as well.”

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Brendan said. He paused as a loud splash rang through the air, followed by a litany of curses. “Oh dear,” he said, gazing past Astra. She turned and saw that Tentacool had pulled May into the pond, and she was now treading water and ranting furiously at his quietly smug visage. The woman with the Surskit looked quite shocked.

“She really should have released him over the water,” Astra commented as May scrambled to pull herself over the surprisingly sheer edge onto land.

“She seems to cause a lot of trouble for herself, doesn’t she?” Brendan agreed, sharing a grin with Astra. He paused again, looking past her. “Not that you don’t have your own problems.”

Astra blinked. “Eh?”

“I think you forgot to make an introduction,” Brendan informed her, nodding in the direction of her team.

Astra turned to see Marill advancing upon Nincada, expression thunderous and tail already winding up to strike. Her eyes went wide. “Oh shit—Marill, stop!” she shouted, running over to her team. “I said stop! He’s with us now! Marill!”

Behind her, Brendan chuckled and crouched down to pat Shroomish and Whismur on their heads. “It’s never going to be boring around May and Astra, huh?” he said, fingers rubbing the small bumps atop Shroomish’s head.

“Shroom?” Shroomish asked, voice light and airy with a hint of a rasp.

Brendan laughed and stood back up. “You’ll see soon enough. Now,” he said, stretching his arms above his head, grinning. “It’s a free day, so let’s all have some fun!”

The remaining pokemon unoccupied by spats raised their voices in unanimous agreement.

And so the day began.

Marill bobbed on the lake’s surface, eyes narrowed in determination. On her sides, Marshtomp, Tentacool, and Lotad mirrored her, tense and ready to spring into action. May, the lone supervisor and referee of the water-type race, stood above them, eyeing the participants critically.

“All right!” she announced, arms folded. “It’s race time! The first one to three laps wins! Ground rules: no attacking each other! This pool’s like twice as big as a olympic one, so no ‘accidents’ either! Everything else is fair game, are we clear!?”

A chorus of agreements answered May’s proclamation, Marshtomp’s enthusiastic bellow nearly drowning out Lotad and Tentacool’s more subdued cries. Marill merely tensed, ready to spring forward.

“Good.” May nodded. She raised an arm. “On go! Three, two, one—!”

Her arm had barely dropped when Marill sprang forward. Her tail thrashed in a calculated frenzy as her rotund body undulated, her efforts propelling her through the frothing waters at a most furious speed—

Tentacool pulsed past her breezily, one tentacle giving Marill a lazy wave before he quickened his pace, easily doubling, then tripling the distance between them. Marshtomp passed by a bare second later, flippers heaving great troughs behind him and fins parting the water as though it were air.

“Marsh!” he cheered happily, before diving down and shooting forward.

Marill stared for a moment, then growed. “Riiiiillll!” she screeched, outrage fuelling her to ever higher levels of—

Lotad shot by in a reversed position, a jet of water spraying from his mouth. He caught Marill’s eye for a split second. “Lo,” he said, smugly. And then he was gone.

From the sidelines, May quirked an eyebrow as Marill froze in place, then frowned as the blue pokemon abruptly sank like a stone. She leaned over the edge, peering into the artificial pond’s depths.

“...why did she curl—oh fuck!”

May sprang backward as a blue cannonball erupted from the depths. Marill, spinning like an ornery bowling ball, skipped on the surface once, twice—then caught fast, kicking up a spray of water as she rocketed forward.

May watched with wide eyes as the blue blur shot past a startled Lotad and Marshstomp, winced as Marill ran right over Tentacool and launched the squid into the air, before grimacing as Marill finally hit the pond’s edge and went flying into the distance.

Marill groaned, sprawled upside-down in a self-made ditch. One eye cracked open as footsteps drew near. She squinted upward and saw May holding her rather dazed Tentacool. “Marill?”

May stared down at her, unimpressed. “Disqualified.”

“...rill.”

Over at the assortment of park equipment, a new emperor laid claim to his dominion.

“Keeeeen!” Combusken crowed to the heavens, a jet of fire spiralling into the air. Victory at last, via divine right of ‘dibs’. He surveyed his newfound holding from the peak of his mighty three-level wood and plastic fortress, grinning smugly. A flicker of movement caught his attention, and his eyes narrowed as he spotted two approaching interlopers. “Bus...” he growled, fingers gripping the wooden railing tightly.

Turning around, Combusken kicked at his snoozing underling. “Combus!” He ordered, pointing at the approaching invaders.

Slakoth yawned, cracking an eye open. “Slaaak...?”

Combusken pointed even harder, glaring. “Ken.”

“Koth...” Slakoth grumbled, staggering to his feet. He poked his head over the railing, blinking at the semi-distant challengers below. He sighed. Another prime nap opportunity, interrupted. Best make this quick, then.

Down below, Grovyle and Shroomish peered up at the fort. Grovyle had seen Combusken race to the top not a minute before, dragging a limp Slakoth behind him.

“Grove,” Grovyle commented, frowning at the structure curiously. He turned to Shroomish and jerked his head toward the fort. “Gro?”

“Shroom,” Shroomish agreed, ambling forward. “Mish-mish shr—”

Shroomish was cut off by a high-speed pebble abruptly shooting into the ground by her foot. She fell backward with a shocked cry. Grovyle’s eyes narrowed, and he looked up at the fort.

Up above, Slakoth gave him a lazy wave. Combusken grinned next to him, staring straight at Grovyle. He pulled down an eyelid and made a face. “Bus kiiiiin!” he crowed, laughing.

“Vyle!” Grovyle shouted back up, sharpened leaves erupting from his wrists. He turned his attention to Slakoth, glaring. “Vyle, grovyle!?”

Slakoth, draped across the railing, just jerked a thumb at Combusken and shrugged.

Grovyle glare faded into exasperation. “Gro-vyle...” he sighed.

Shroomish shook herself and stumbled to her feet. “Shroomish!” she yelled, stomping the grass with puffed cheeks, each thump raining orange spores upon the dirt. When this only provoked Combusken to laugh harder, she turned to Grovyle and pouted. “Miiiish!” she whined, big, lumpy tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “Shroomish miiiish!”

Grovyle smiled and pat Shroomish on the head. “Grovyle!” he said, giving her a thumbs up. Turning back to the fort, he looked up at the two defenders. Combousken smirked and pointed down. Slakoth raised his arm.

Grovyle crouched. Then, he moved.

A flurry of pebbles sent puffs of dirt into the air where Grovyle had just been. The leaf on his head fluttered madly in the wind as he sprinted up to the fort, darting left and right as handfuls of stone rained from on high. The few stray pebbles that managed to graze his face and shoulders were not nearly enough to stop him.

Combusken squawked as Grovyle reached the base of the fort and jumped up to the first floor. How dare he invade his tower! Face twisted in righteous anger, Combusken leapt over the railing, spitting fire.

Grovyle jerked back as the embers fell down around him, leaping back off the structure as Combusken delivered a solid kick through where his head had been moments before. A further flurry of cinders and pebbles forced Grovyle even further backwards, only ceasing when he returned to where Shroomish was waiting. Her disappointed gaze bore into Grovyle like a solar beam.

“Shroom,” she said, tone flat. As if to punctuate her statement, a cavalcade of boorish jeers rang out from the fort.

“Vyle,” Grovyle muttered, giving her a disgruntled frown. “Vyle grovyle?” He pointed at her and gestured toward the miniature keep where Combusken was still laughing. “Grove.”

Shroomish turned up her nose, and would have crossed her arms if she had any. “Shroomish shroom; mish shroom-shroom!” she said, haughtily.

Grovyle contemplated this for a moment. “Grove...” he said, nodding slowly.

“Mish,” Shroomish agreed. “Shroom mish-mish—!”

Grovyle placed a hand on her head. Shroomish paused. Her eyes widened.

“...Shroom?” she asked, breaking out into a cold sweat.

“Groooo...” Grovyle drawled. His other hand gently grabbed her waist. “Vyle-vy?”

“Mi—!? Mishmishmishmish—!” Shroomish cried out, twisting around in Grovyle's suddenly vice-like grip.

“Vyle vy-vy-vy!” Grovyle cackled, bodily lifting Shroomish over his head and charging at the fort.

Combusken, currently pantomiming exaggerated impressions of his victory to an impassive Slakoth, looked up when a loud wailing suddenly filled the air, rapidly gaining in volume with every moment. He and Slakoth looked at each other, confused. Combusken turned back to the railing and looked down, muttering to himself. “Busken ken, Com—ken!?”

Combusken only had a moment to comprehend Grovyle jumping back up the tower before the leafy pokemon whirled around and threw a screaming tan fungal ball at his face. Shroomish smacked into Combusken’s beak with a pained cry, sending both pokemon tumbling to the floor of the fort.

Scrabbling to his feet, Combusken shook his head, scowling. He looked at Shroomish, the confused, dizzy look on her face doing nothing to quell the fire in his eyes. “Combusken!?”

“Mi-i-i-ish...” Shroomish slurred, wobbling around in a daze. Slakoth, lying nearby, gave her a curious look and poked her in the back. Shroomish jumped, crying out in shock. She shook herself, vision clearing just in time to see Combusken winding up for a kick.

“Com-busk—!” Combusken roared.

Shroomish shrieked and exploded into a cloud of spores.

The fort's crown vanished into an orange fog. Grovyle blinked up at it from the second landing, eyeing the flickering yellow lights that sometimes arced through the haze. He sniffed. It smelled like a thunderstorm made of fungal citrus. Well! That had worked better than he had hoped. After waiting for the wind to blow the spore cloud away, Grovyle hopped up to the crown of the structure.

The first thing he noticed was Combusken lying on the floor, twitching as sparks of electricity shot off his body at random. Grovyle let a smug smile cross his face as he knelt next to his rival. “Grovyle~!” he taunted, flicking the large trio of feathers on Combusken’s head.

Combusken, fully paralyzed, didn’t reply. Grovyle chuckled and stood up. Victory! Now this fort was his! Grovyle didn’t really know what to do with it, but he had usurped the previous king and would take his prize nevertheless!

“Shroom.”

Grovyle wilted. Ah, right. “Grovyle!” he said, whirling around and smiling, forcing cheer into his tone. “Grovyle grove?”

Shroomish stared at him with a blank face and lidded eyes. “Shroom.”

“Vyle...” Grovyle said, sweat beading on his face. He looked down at the still twitching Combusken, then gave Shroomish a shaky thumbs up. “Grove! Vyle vy!”

If anything, Shroomish’s face got even more blank. Then, it turned absolutely thunderous. “Shroomish. Mish,” she accused, puffing up.

Grovyle paled. “Grove!” he protested, holding his hands up and taking a step backward. “Grovyle vy—!”

“Shroom!” Shroomish yelled, then exploded.

The tower vanished in an orange spore cloud once again. When it blew away, Grovyle was lying across Combusken, the two convulsing as arcs of electricity raced across their bodies.

Shroomish observed her handiwork and gave a satisfied nod. Then she jumped up and stomped on their backs for good measure. “Mish!” share said, triumphantly. That’ll show them the price of disrespect! Now, how to get down—

“Koth?”

Shroomish jumped, whirling around to stare at Slakoth. Slakoth looked back from the floor, fur coated in orange dust. He raised a hand in greeting, if only slightly.

“Slak.”

Shroomish scowled. This was the guy that threw rocks at her! Cheeks puffed out, she marched right up to the prone figure and leaned over, unleashing another burst of spores right in his face.

Slakoth blinked, now coated in orange. His face screwed up. He twitched, violently, then sneezed.

Shroomish stared at her very unparalyzed target, aghast. Slakoth shook his head and sniffed. He frowned.

“Ack. Slakoth,” he said, giving Shroomish a reproachful look. “Koth.”

“...shroom?” Shroomish tried, giving him a nervous grin.

“Slak...” Slakoth warned.

Shroomish immediately bowed in supplication—or, at least, tilted forward a bit. “Shroomish-mishshroom,” she apologized, the words coming quickly and evenly.

Slakoth looked at her. He nodded.

“Koth. Slakoth,” he said, a sense of finality engraved in his tone. Then he flopped around, put his head in his arms, and laid still.

Shroomish stared as snores began to fill the air. She opened her mouth, then paused. She closed her mouth. She gazed into the sky.

...

Well, she was the last one standing, so...victory?

A loud scrabble of feet erupted behind Shroomish, the stun powder finally wearing off. She sighed, turned around, and puffed up.

Some wars were never done.

Astra riffled through her violin case, quietly ignoring the infrequent buzzing to her side. Introducing Nincada to her team had gone well enough, aside from needing to stop Marill from extracting retribution for her now-healed eye. Astra herself hadn’t quite forgiven Nincada for the injury—Marill would have been a very helpful backup in the Whismur cave, after all. Grovyle and Slakoth had been reasonably amicable, and Nincada’s acceptance of their welcoming was short and polite.

Nincada then completely ignored the others in favor of following Astra around, to her mild discomfort. She had hoped to push off their new association for at least a little while longer. Nincada in general had the peculiar ability to cut through a psychic's defences—and shortly after, their flesh—with unusual ease. They were also physically creepy as hell, as May would put it, with minds far more ruled by instinct than other pokemon of comparable intelligence.

All this was to say: Astra was a bit leery of Nincada. He was creepy, his mind was structured weird, and he’d nearly gouged out Marill’s eye yesterday. Had he not been a surprisingly capable combatant and apparently genuinely dedicated to joining her upon his defeat, Astra would have passed him over without a second glance. She would have to work on integration to the team at some point, but for today she’d rather just relax. At least he wasn’t bothering her at the moment.

Now if she could just find—aha! Astra pulled a collection of sheet music from the violin case, grinning triumphantly.

“Found them!” she announced, turning to a nearby tree where Brendan was waiting. He was sitting against the trunk, Whismur in his lap and Slugma under one arm. The magma creature was burbling contentedly, occasionally nudging Brendan for another fire flake and somehow not searing the flesh off his arm. He looked up at her voice and waved, beckoning her closer.

“Are you ready for some amazing music?” Astra asked, closing the violin case and striding over, giving Brendan a proud grin as she brandished the instrument. Nincada, who had been scurrying after her, decided to start burrowing into the dirt a bit away. Astra recalled his pokedex entry saying they nibbled on tree roots and supposed he had gotten hungry.

“Sure am,” Brendan agreed, rubbing a spot at the base of Whismur’s ear. She let out a whistling trill and nuzzled into his hand, one foot rapidly stomping the ground. “I’m glad to finally witness these vaunted tunes you’ve been talking about so much.”

“I’ll have you know I’m not just talk,” Astra informed him, carefully lowering herself onto the grass next to Brendan with the violin on her lap. She twanged on the strings and listened to the note, then twisted a knob on the head slightly. “I’m just happy I’ve finally gotten a chance to look through these sheets Trevor left me.”

“That was the man who gave you the violin after a few hours of lessons, right?” Brendan asked.

Astra twanged a string again and nodded, both in answer and in satisfaction with her tuning. “Yep. Told you about it yesterday, remember?”

“Just making sure,” Brendan said. He sighed. “A sad tale, but I’m glad he found happiness despite his condition. So, what’s on the sheets?”

“Let’s see,” Astra held up the surprisingly large collection of papers—they were all bound together by a few large metal rings—and flipped to a random page. Then she backed up a few because this piece seemed to be rather long and very complex.

“Uh...” she said, staring at the bars so covered in notations such that they were nearly black. “This one’s called...the Death Waltz? What the...” she trailed off, perplexed. What was with these instructions? Was it asking her to play five separate notes on the same string? Five times over? Why did she need to release a hoard of Empoleons onto the audience halfway through? A little message in the corner dedicated the composition to an ‘unknown girl’, declaring that the ‘blood-sucking devil’ could go rot in a dank cellar.

“I think this one is a joke,” Astra concluded, staring at the bit where she was expected to light off explosives.

“Is it a good joke?” Brendan asked, leaning over. His eyes scanned the page, brows furrowing. “...I don’t play any instruments,” he started, slowly, “But I’m pretty sure none of them need an infusion of legumes.”

“I figured. Let me just find a simple one,” Astra said, flipping through the collection at random. “Oh this one looks simple, it’s called—”

A panting sound interrupted her. Astra looked up and—red eyes framed by yellow, gnashing teeth and rustled brush, howling in the night—

Astra froze, eyes wide. She made a sound not unlike squeaking wood.

“...What?” Brendan asked. He looked up. “Oh, hi Poochyena.”

Poochyena barked in Astra’s face. She shrieked and hurled herself backwards, violin tumbling onto the grass. Scrambling to her feet, Astra fled behind another tree a dozen feet away and slammed her back against the bark, heart thumping loudly in her ears.

“...Astra?” Brendan ventured, sounding doubly confused and concerned. “You okay?”

Astra swallowed, then shook her head and took a deep breath, letting out the air slowly. “I’m—I’m fine!” she called back, shakily. She edged back out from behind the tree, flinching back when she saw Poochyena sitting by her violin. Why wasn’t he with May? Poochyena could swim, couldn’t they!? He could have at least gone with the others to the playground! Ugh, today was supposed to be relaxing, damn it! She didn’t need a nightmare dog that she couldn’t sense to scare her shitless out of nowhere!

“You sure?” Brendan asked.

“Y-yeah. He just, um. Startled me, is all,” Astra stammered. She eyed the distance between herself, her violin, and Poochyena. The hound didn’t seem inclined to move, having taken to sniffing the instrument. Astra...didn’t quite feel like getting close, at the moment.

Noticing her extended pause, Brendan carefully removed himself from his pokemon and walked over. He looked at Astra, then at the confused Poochyena sitting next to the violin, then back at Astra.

Astra plastered an awkward grin across her face at his stare. Her eyes flickered about, searching for something to say.

“...hi!” she failed, raising a hand and giving him a weak wave.

“Hi,” Brendan replied, raising an eyebrow. He glanced back at Poochyena, then gave her a searching stare. “...would you like me to get the violin?” he asked, casually.

Astra looked down, face turning a light red. “Yes please,” she murmured.

Nodding, Brendan went and retrieved the violin and sheet music, stonefacedly handing them to an embarrassed Astra.

“Thanks,” she murmured, looking at the ground. Astra watched Poochyena look about then run over and curiously sniff at Nincada’s dirt mound. She grimaced, then shook herself and sat down, once more perusing the sheet music. Hopefully Poochyena would find something else to do.

Brendan sat down beside her and gave a fond smile towards Slugma and Whismur, who had formed a cuddle pile at the old tree in his absence. “Cute,” he said. He fiddled with his hands and looked at Poochyena, then back at Astra. “...do you want to talk about it?” he ventured after a few moments.

“Talk about what?” Astra asked, determinedly ignoring the aura of concern hanging over Brendan. The only thing she wanted to do right now was to find a decent piece to play.

“It’s just—” Brendan paused, unsure. “...you seemed to react a bit...strongly, right then.”

Astra closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m not the biggest fan of Poochyena,” she muttered, putting the bound papers down. Seems like she wouldn’t get to try any of them after all. “All of them, not just May’s.”

“Ah.” Brendan shifted, turning to look at the dog in question. He watched as Poochyena started to dig into the dirt. “...Might I ask why?” he asked, carefully.

Astra stared down at her lap. How did one explain that, to her senses, Poochyena didn’t exist? Poochyena was nothing. Less than nothing—a void that utterly rejected her very nature, an area of null thought and emotion. You couldn’t talk to them, yell at them, deaf to even your screams until the air was forced from your lungs—

All Poochyena were like this. Complete and total psychic immunity. And unless one were careful, a psychic like her became easy prey. One week ago a pack of them almost ran her down and had a Ralts-shaped dinner. A gargantuan, evolved one had played a central role in her parents’ deaths. This one had growled at her before May told it off, and she wasn’t sure if it was inclined to do more with the absence of his trainer.

“I’ve...had some bad experiences with them,” Astra said. “It hasn’t really come up before. Usually he just sticks around May and doesn’t bother me.”

“So it hasn’t been an issue before?”

“It’s not an issue now,” Astra insisted, frowning. She’d been…tolerant of May’s Poochyena in the past, and even other trainers’ Poochyena when facing them down in the past few days. She would actually very much prefer it never came near her, but that didn’t mean there was a problem. “Like I said, he just startled me. No big deal.”

Brendan glanced down at the violin. Astra glared. The corner of his mouth curled up for a moment before he schooled his face into a neutral expression. “I’m...well, I’ve heard stories of some who would do a lot more than hide behind a tree in similar circumstances. Is it stressful to be around one so often?”

“Maybe a bit...?” Astra glanced at the dog, eyeing it warily. She certainly wasn’t relaxed. “I don’t know. I’d just...rather not be near one. Why are you pestering me about it so much?”

“Because it is bothering you and, well...” Brendan scratched the back of his head. “I don’t like it when my friends are upset. If there might be a way to resolve it, I feel like I should at least bring it up, right? I’m not asking you to, say, hug every Poochyena you see, but I think it’d be easier if May’s didn’t make you scramble behind a tree.” He shrugged. “At least, that’s my opinion. Have you considered interacting with him at all?”

She stared at him, silently wondering, again, how to explain that Poochyena were deaf to anything she said. “The wild ones back home weren’t very receptive toward anything we tried,” she said, after a moment. “I don’t see how it would be any different now. May only captured him, what, a week ago?”

“Ah!” Brendan exclaimed, “but none of them had me around to help out, did they?” he grinned. “I’m sure that we could figure it out together. If you’re willing to try, of course.”

Astra kind of really didn’t, but Brendan’s earnestness was hard to turn down. She sighed. Might as well go along with it for a bit. He’d see how pointless it was and drop it, then she could finally find something to play.

“All right,” she said. “I really don’t think it’s going to work, though. I’m not interested in being friends.”

“You don’t have to be friends,” Brendan replied. “I’m more aiming for...‘neutral’. I’m going to call him over, all right?” At Astra’s nod, he turned and let out a yell. “Hey Poochyena—” Brendan paused. “What the heck is he doing?”

Astra looked over to see Poochyena torso-deep into an excavated pile of earth. Her eyes widened. “Wait, wasn’t Nincada down there!?”

As she spoke, Poochyena let out a loud yip and abruptly reversed course, scrabbling backwards out of the hole in a small plume of dirt. He sat up, a rather bewildered Nincada clamped onto his back in reverse.

“Nin?” Nincada asked, staring down at his new furry perch.

“Yena!” Poochyena barked, panting excitedly and seemingly ignorant of his new passenger.

The two trainers stared. Brendan raised a hand.

“Uh. Poochyena?”

Poochyena’s head swiveled around, ears perking up as he spotted Brendan. He leapt up and bounded toward Brendan, heedless of the wide-eyed insect clinging to his back. “Yen yen!”

“Ca-a-a-a-a-a!?” Nicada warbled from above, bouncing off Poochyena’s back in perfect tandem. A second later Poochyena, coming in from the side, impacted Brendan’s lap with an excited yip and launched Nincada straight into Astra’s face.

Astra shrieked at the sudden face-full of horrible giant bug, quickly pulling the scrabbling Nincada off her face and just barely stopping herself from hurling him into the distance. That hurt! But, not as much as she had expected. Nincada was surprisingly light. She held her pokemon at arm’s length, breathing heavily as her heart slowly stopped pounding. The two looked at each other. Nincada wiggled unhappily.

“Cada!” he complained, pointing at Poochyena. He sounded weirdly offended, like his brief ride had dashed his dignity against the—well, fur.

Astra snorted, the petty complaint doing much to reassert her sense of calm. “Oh, you’re fine,” she said, setting him down to the side. She frowned, brushing away some soil clinging to his head. “A bit dirty, maybe. Well, whatever. Just...sit here, okay? Maybe you’ll get to listen to some music.” She glanced over at Brendan, who was fending off a ferocious puppy assault. It looked rather wet. “Eventually,” she groused.

Nincada still felt unhappy but complied, folding up and resting against Astra’s leg. Astra looked down at him, hesitating. Nincada was still—she still had issues with him. But he wasn’t too bad compared to Poochyena; at least it was possible to talk to Nincada. Perhaps...a small bit of contact. As a start.

Slowly, she reached a hand out and stroked across Nincada’s head. His skin—chitin, Astra supposed—felt eerily smooth and a bit stiff, as if she was touching some sort of flexible glass. It was an intriguing sensation. Warm. Kind of nice, actually. Nincada shook her hand off after a few more strokes, his tiny wings buzzing irritably. Ah, maybe he wasn’t a fan of being touched.

“Alright, alright!” Brendan said, laughing as he pushed Poochyena away. “Down boy! Geeze, he’s an excitable one isn’t he?” He grinned, looking over to Astra. “Friendly as can be. Worst that can happen is a face full of slobber.”

Astra grimaced, leaning away from the pair. “I see...”

“C’mon, you can say hi at least, can’t you?” Brendan asked, moving Poochyena so he faced Astra. The dog turned his attention to the disguised Kirlia. He stopped his excited panting and tilted his head, as if confused.

She really couldn’t. Astra sighed. “...hello, Poochyena,” she said, waving. As usual, she spoke with a well-practiced telepathic broadcast. It brushed against Brendan’s mind and imparted the message, as expected, and then the emission broke against Poochyena’s body like a breeze against a tree and absolutely failed to do anything at all, also as expected. He did appear to notice her hand at least. Poochyena seemed to almost frown, his bushy tail slowly flicking back and forth as he tilted his head the other way.

Brendan blinked. “Huh. That was...kinda tepid.”

“Told you,” Astra said dryly. “Are we done now?”

“Um. Maybe you could try petting him?”

Astra grimaced. Now she had to touch him? “Fine, but we’re dropping this whole stupid thing afterward, okay?”

“As long as you try!” Brendan assured.

Astra sighed again—she was doing that a lot lately—and looked at Poochyena flatly. Hesitantly, she reached out for Poochyena’s ears.

Her hand passed near his nose. Poochyena sniffed. He froze, ears perking forward and eyes widening. His lips pulled back to show a set of very large teeth, a muted rumble coming from deep within the throat—

Danger.

Astra snatched her hand back with a cry of alarm, lurching away from the very not friendly dog in a surge of panic. Nincada buzzed angrily, darting out to put himself between his trainer and the sudden threat.

“Woah!” Brendan exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Poochyena. Thankfully the dog didn’t lunge after her, but that did little to quell the thundering beat filling Astra’s ears. Still on the ground, she inched away until Poochyena’s growling subsided.

“Hey boy, settle down!” Brendan urged, one arm holding Poochyena in place as the other stroked his head perhaps a bit too rapidly. “It’s okay, it’s okay!”

“It is most certainly not!” Astra yelled back. She watched as Poochyena gradually settled down at Brendan’s urging and shook her head, scowling. “All right, I’m done. One scare was already enough, I didn’t need another! Can you just—just send him back to May or something, please?”

Brendan looked at her, his knee-jerk protest dying as he saw her face. He glanced down at Nincada—still interposing himself between them and buzzing in righteous anger—and his hesitant expression melted into resigned defeat.

“Alright,” he said, quietly. Brendan turned and murmured a few words to Poochyena. The dog perked up and looked around excitedly. Spotting the distant figure of May—who seemed to be having some sort of exasperated fit near the suddenly orange playground area—the dog scrambled off Brendan’s lap and bounded away, yipping excitedly.

Astra watched him go, exhaling in relief as his yips grew inaudible. “Not doing that again,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Nincada returned to her side and buzzed, an aura of quiet satisfaction rolling from his mind.

Astra looked down at him, a small smile finding its way to her face. “Eh? Do you think you scared him off? Heh, nice work, Nincada.”

“Nin,” Nincada said, his tone regaining that odd formality.

“Well, I suppose I’ll dedicate this first song to you then!” Astra cheered, to Nincada’s mild bewilderment. She turned to the sheaf of papers, expression falling. “If I can ever find a playable one...”

“I’m sorry!” Brendan blurted.

Astra looked at him. He looked back, an aura of shame and guilt hanging about him like dreary fog. He was sincere, yes, but the reason was just as important as the regret. She tilted her head, silently demanding elaboration.

Brendan seemed to pick up on this. He looked down, biting his lip. “I...I shouldn’t have made you face Poochyena like that. Shouldn’t have tried to rush the process—no, I should have taken the hint before all that. You told me you were uncomfortable and then I just... brushed past it.”

Astra hummed. “Yeah, you kinda did,” she said, turning to face him fully. “Brendan, you like helping people, right? You said it yourself. But I didn’t ask for help with Poochyena, I just wanted my violin back. I didn’t ask to try to make an acquaintance—let alone pet him. I wanted to keep my distance. Heck, Poochyena isn’t even your pokemon. If I was going to try something like this, I’d at least bring May in on it. But I won’t. In the end it just...really isn’t something I want to deal with.”

“Sorry,” Brendan repeated, staring at his hands, which clenched and fidgeted. He grimaced. “I just wanted to...I...”

“Good thoughts, bad clarity,” Astra said, nicking a phrase from her Grandpa. She reached over and prodded at his temple. Brendan looked at her, confused. Astra smiled. “Some problems just aren’t yours to solve, okay?”

“...okay,” Brendan said, returning her smile after a moment.

Astra nodded. Good. “Hey, if you really wanna help me with something, can you help me pick a song out?” she asked, proffering the collection of sheet music.

Brendan laughed. “Alright, I suppose I could do that! Let’s see here...oh, how about this one? ‘Radiant Prelude’?”

He pointed out the sheet. It didn’t look too complicated. Astra grinned.

“Sounds good!” she exclaimed, and, at last, set bow to string.

To her side, Nincada perked up, first in curiosity, then in wonder. From the cuddle pile under the other tree, Whismur poked her head up and stared, much to the grumblings of Slugma.

In the pond, a grand roughhousing came to a fleeting standstill. On the playground, an orange-tinted May’s irritated tirade against a castle of motley misfits was brought to a brief halt.

The sun shone brilliantly, both in the heavens above and the passage of song.

And so, for a time, Astra played.

Many things could be said of what happened at the park. Games and music and (an admittedly small) lunch came and went. But the most relevant thing to say is that their grand day out was coming to a close. The sun dipped low in the sky, and soon everything and everyone had packed up, ready to call it a day.

With one last stop, at May’s insistence.

Once more, Astra found herself travelling toward Rustboro’s harbor. The Devon towers passed by with an uneasy but thankfully uneventful silence. May led them through the streets and eventually the trio arrived at the shore. The smell of ocean salt wafted through the air, the distant water colored in interesting hues, and the sky above darkening towards a deep purple. The docks themselves blocked most of the horizon—a grand maze of brightly-colored rectangular metal boxes and a few rather large flat ships, attended by a small number of workers. A shame, as the harbor’s contents—while mildly interesting in their own right—weren’t nearly as beautiful as the skyline.

When Astra voiced the opinion, May just grinned.

“A better view? Lucky for you that’s just what we came for,” she said with a wink.

Astra and Brendan looked at each other and shrugged. They jogged after May, who had sped up in excitement. A scant few moments later, they were ascending a steep hill at the corner of the harbor. Atop the hill was a circular tower, colored in a spiraling red and white pattern and holding some large glass artifice at the top.

They reached the base of the building—deserted, without even a vehicle in the driveway—and May spun around, grinning brightly.

“Ta-da!” she announced, presenting the tower. “We’re here!”

“The lighthouse?” Brendan asked, looking up at the building bemusedly.

“Oh, this is a lighthouse,” Astra said, understanding dawning upon her. May had mentioned them a few times before; it was interesting to finally see one. She peered up at the contraption atop the tower. If this was a house for light, maybe that’s where it stayed? “Neat.”

“If you think this is neat, just wait,” May said, strolling up to the door. She tried the door, frowning when it failed to open. “Damn, they locked it again,” she grumbled, kneeling down and taking a few long, thin bits of metal from her bag. “Gimme a sec.”

“Wait, you know how to lockpick?” Brendan asked, alarmed. “Are we breaking in?”

“Whazzit look like, genius?” May grumbled, squinting at the keyhole. “We’re not breaking anything, as long as you two don’t trip or something. It’s fine, did this last Friday and no-one gave a shit. Ah!” she exclaimed, withdrawing her tools as the lock gave a tiny click. “There we go!”

“Was there anyone around to ‘give a shit’?” Brendan asked, exasperated.

May ignored him, swinging the door wide open and striding inside. “Come on!”

The interior of the lighthouse seemed to act as some sort of storage area, storing numerous bits and pieces all relating to what Astra assumed was general maintenance of the structure. A winding spiral staircase led them to a roof hatch and May pulled a cord that lowered a ladder. May, bursting with excitement, practically flew up the ladder with Brendan not far behind.

Astra took up the rear, and she clambered to her feet, brushing out the wrinkles in her dress. She took a moment to examine the odd construct that took up the central area. It was a baffling amalgamation of glass, plastic, and steel that seemed to be on a rotating dais. Was this where the light came from? Shaking her head, Astra joined her friends at the railing and was abruptly left breathless.

She could see everything.

The sun was nearly touching the horizon, dyeing the sea and sky a burning orange. The clouds, taking the form of rolling waves in the heavens, were similarly bathed in fire. The harbor and city below glowed an intense russet, and she could see people and vehicles scurrying to and fro like ants. Astra stared at the gently rolling waves, the scent of brine filling the air as her gaze tracked the myriad motions of life before her. In the distance, a flock of Wingull cawed and swooped down to nibble on some presumably tasty bits below.

“It’s...beautiful,” she said, awed.

“Wow,” Brendan agreed, wide-eyed.

May’s smug grin outshone the sun. “Told you,” she sing-songed. She hopped up to sit on the railing, bringing one foot up to lay flat on the thin metal bar and resting her chin on her knee while the other leg hung loosely to the side. “Every time I’ve moved, I always seem to end up in a coastal town. This is one of the first things I always check out. Used to spend hours just sitting up on these babies watching the tide roll in. ”

“I can see why!” Astra exclaimed, stepping up the lower rung of the railing. She leaned out, eagerly drinking in the vista before her. The view from up here was leagues better than the one she'd had on that beach. The patterns on the water as the waves flowed in and out—mesmerizing. “This is amazing!”

“It does not disappoint," Brendan agreed. "I gotta say, I didn't take you for the type to enjoy something like this, May."

May frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you know," Brendan started, hesitantly. “I’ve always gotten this ‘energetic’ vibe from you. I figured you’d be more likely to go surfing than stare out at the sea. Not that it’s bad!” he added, smiling awkwardly. “Just unexpected, is all. It really is nice,” he finished, looking back toward the horizon.

May huffed, crossing her arms. She sat her feet on the ground and leaned back against the railing, staring out at the waves over her shoulder. “I guess,” she said, after a moment. “I dunno. Seeing everything from high up like this, seeing the ocean go in and out like that...it’s, I dunno,” she repeated, sighing. “I guess I just like getting lost in it all.”

“How did you start?” Astra asked, having sat down on the floor so her legs could dangle over the edge, below the railing. “Were you just curious, or...?”

May looked into the distance, frowning. Eventually, the other two realized she wasn’t going to answer. Brendan shook his head and slid down to sit next to Astra. All three stared at the warm skyline, simply enjoying the view.

“Have you ever seen the ocean like this, Astra?” Brendan asked.

Astra shook her head. “I wasn’t allowed to go south enough to see the coast there. A few of the—my neighbors have, though. Sometimes they brought back seashells and things. My grandpa’s gone a few times to get special shells for paint and brought me back some cool rocks.”

“It was a letter,” May butted in, abruptly blurting the words out. Astra and Brendan looked at her in surprise. May scowled and turned her head away, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“...you started breaking into lighthouses because of a letter?” Brendan asked, lightly baffled.

Astra hummed. Letters were a sort of message you wrote on paper, weren’t they? “What was the letter about?” she asked.

May didn’t answer for another few moments. When she did, her words came out haltingly, unsure. “I...had a friend. Back in...fuck, what do you call it here? Kindergarten?” she looked at Brendan, annoyed.

He nodded. “I understand the time frame.”

“I don’t,” Astra said, because she didn’t.

“My first year of school. Whatever,” May huffed, blowing a stray bang out of her face. “She was—I—,” she stumbled, grimacing. “Well, it doesn’t matter. We were both six and were friends, I guess. And then I had to move. We promised to write, cause we didn’t have shit for phones back then. Used to get one every week, but the time lag was a bitch. Then I got less, and less, and then basically nothing at all. Last one I ever sent was one asking for her to come visit.

“Last one I ever got back said she’d come in a week or two,” she continued, downcast. “Even told me what boat they’d be coming in on, the big one her sisters owned. Never told me a day, but I knew what it looked like.”

“So you went to where you could see all the boats coming in,” Brendan finished, tone somber.

May gave a hollow chuckle. “I went up there every day for a month.” she said, sliding down to sit next to the other two. She rested her head against a pole and looked up, sighing. “Never saw the boat. Never got another letter. Thought they might’ve crashed or something, but they just never left.”

“May...” Astra sniffed, a bit teary eyed.

“Oh,” Brendan said, a note of sorrow in his voice. “I’m...that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

“Beh, whatever,” May muttered, waving their concern off. “It‘s fine. I was getting along with—well, someone else at the new place I was at, at the time. Didn’t do the letter thing with her, though.

“Still, it was kinda shit, sitting up there all those days waiting for nothing,” she murmured, twisting around to face the sea. “But I still went up there now and then, even after I realized. Even when I moved. Something about being up here, above everything else...anytime I got too angry at something, or my head got too full of piss, I climbed up here and it’d all just drain away.”

Silence fell, none willing to speak after the somber fragment of May’s past. Brendan looked down at the docks, observing the people below with a distracted curiosity. May stared listlessly out at the sea, eyes seeming to take in everything at once and go blank simultaneously. Astra looked at her, sensing the usually turbulent flow of thoughts and emotion in her friend's mind settle into the depths like sediment in a murky pond. Eventually it became so still that it was like she was hardly thinking at all.

It was a slightly familiar sensation, and it only took Astra a moment to put a name to it: Calm Mind. A sort of trance that a few elder Kirlia could put themselves in that would briefly enhance their power and control. What May was doing felt similar, but...there was no power to it. Of course there wasn’t; Humans weren’t psychic, and May was no exception. Astra felt a bit foolish for even giving the comparison that much weight. Still, it was interesting that such a frame of mind could be achieved, even without power.

Astra turned away, following May’s gaze toward the skyline. The sun was setting, causing ever more of the sky to turn a wondrous gloom of violet. Astra imagined sitting up on this tower every day for a season, searching the horizon for a friend that would never come. Then she stopped. It wasn’t very fun. Not much of May’s life had been, it seemed.

That would have to be changed, Astra decided.

Shifting over a bit, she knocked her shoe against May’s. The girl started, looking at Astra in a confused haze, as if she had awoken from a nap.

Astra giggled, and smiled at the other girl. May blinked, frowning.

“...what?” she asked.

“Thanks for bringing me up here,” Astra said, knocking May’s shoe again. “It’s lovely.”

May stared at her for a moment longer, her confusion melting into something warmer. “...Yeah,” she agreed. “No problem. Glad you like it.”

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Astra said.

"Yeah," Brendan concurred, giving May a wide smile. "Anytime you want! Heck, I bet you'll have more memories up here with us than you ever did alone soon enough!"

May stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Wh-what kind of cheesy ass—” she shook her head, giving him a wry grin. “Dude, I’ve been doing this for ten years, how the hell are you gonna match that?”

“If that’s what it takes, I’ll just have to do it for twenty,” Brendan said, raising a fist in determination. He stared at May, the sunset seeming to spark in his eyes. “You’re not allowed to do it alone anymore; every time you climb a lighthouse, I’ll be right there with you! It’s a promise!”

May recoiled in shock, eyes wide. “Wh—ugh,” she grumbled and turned away, face matching the rose-hued horizon.

Astra giggled. How cute.

“Idiot,” May muttered, “that’s way too long, who the hell—why the hell—agh!” she yelled, clutching at, then running her fingers through her hair in agitation. She extricated herself from the railing and jumped up, face still red. “Damnit, I can’t just sit here and listen to this nonsense! I need to burn off steam. Hup!”

“Woah, what are you doing!?” Astra exclaimed as May hoisted herself onto the railing, watching as her friend began to walk along the very narrow metal strip circling the tower’s edge. Both she and Brendan scrambled up, equally panicked at May’s sudden spike of recklessness.

“Hey, hey, be careful, you could fall right off the lighthouse doing that!” Brendan called out, rushing over with arms extended as if to catch May when she slipped.

May scoffed, casually strolling along the bar—albeit, very slowly. “Think I don’t know that? Re-fucking-lax, I’ve done this tons of times.”

“What, balancing precariously over a hundred-foot drop!?” Brendan asked, a note of hysteria entering his voice. He hovered at the rail with Astra following close behind, both inching along as May walked the circumference.

“Yep!” May replied, sounding far too cheerful for being one misstep from horrible injury. “Sometimes wave-watching got boring, or it was cloudy, or I just couldn’t sit still. Not much you can do up here other than think about your footing.”

“What if you fall?” Astra asked, watching her warily.

“I won’t,” May stopped, turning to face outwards. Astra followed her gaze.

They’d circled halfway around the lighthouse, and Rustboro City lay spread before them. The sun was well on its way to setting, but the faint glimmer of light still let the city shine in a dim glow. The Devon tower stood tall in the center, and beyond that the sky was slowly lighting up with street lamps, office lights, and the brightest of stars. A faint breeze blew by, the somewhat dirty scent of the city momentarily overpowering the ocean’s brine.

In the distance, a faint pillar of yellow haze marked Astra’s biggest regret.

Astra tore her eyes away, shaking her head. “But what if you do?” she pressed, turning bay to May. “Maybe the railing is slippery, or the wind knocks you over, or—”

“I won’t,” May stated again, the sheer certainty in her voice taking Astra aback.

“How can you be so sure?” Brendan asked, confused.

“I have decided that I won’t,” May replied confidently. “So, I won’t.”

Astra stared at her friend. That was a really weird line of reasoning; neither the wind nor the railing would heed her choices if they decided to be difficult. Astra peered over the edge, grimacing at the sheer drop. She didn’t know how May could be so steadfastly calm while declaring all that.

“I think I’d still prefer it if you came down,” Brendan hinted. Astra suspected he was about to just yank her right off, consequences be damned.

May rolled her eyes. “Fiiine,” she drawled. She hopped down, lightly punching Brendan in the shoulder as she passed. “Worrywart. Alright, the sun's basically set, let’s get going.”

“Thank you,” Brendan sighed, both in relief and exasperation. “Calling it a day, then?”

“Eh, maybe. Kinda got a sweet tooth,” May mused.

Astra perked up. “Can we get ice cream?” she asked hopefully. The taste of that half-eaten morsel she’d gotten when she first wandered through Petalburg was still crystal clear in her mind, an avalanche of wintery sweetness followed by a swift case of brain-freeze. If she could avoid the latter...

“Hell yeah, ice cream!” May cheered, leading the trio down the ladder and into the stairwell. “Let’s go!”

“All right, I can get behind that,” Brendan agreed, then paused. “Wait, I thought you guys were out of money, how—”

“Ice cream’s on Brendan!” May cheered again, much louder.

“Ice cream’s on Brendan!” Astra echoed gleefully.

“Wait, what?” Brendan protested. “Guys I'm not—wait, wait—!”

A short time later, Astra ended up with a gloriously soft mass of oran-flavored heaven in a waffle cone. She licked it happily as Brendan stared glumly at May and her bowl of light green ‘mint’ confectionery.

“Well, at least yours is a bit healthy, I guess,” Brendan sighed, looking over at Astra. “Oran is high in vitamin B, you know.”

Astra hesitated. “...what does the ‘B’ stand for?”

“Broke,” he spoke, calmly biting into a sea-salt popsicle.

May burst out laughing. Brendan smirked, then winced as Astra kicked his leg. Astra huffed, then chuckled as she ate more of her cone. Well, all right, she couldn’t be mad at him for that one.

Jerk.