When Life Gives You Lemons (Open)

There was bad luck, such as forgetting one's umbrella on a rainy day or missing the bus, and then there was shit luck-- a series of circumstances that went far beyond "inconvenience"  and proved that if Arceus did in fact exist, they were a cruel, cruel God.

Norma stood on the sidewalk of her new apartment complex with a trembling smile, unsure if she should keep composure or just let herself burst into the tears that threatened to spill at any moment from her wide, misty eyes. And the blissey knew she must have looked to be on the brink of hysteria, as every passerby seemed to make a point distance themselves from her as they hurried past.

Ten minutes. She had only been inside for ten, no, FIVE minutes, and already her car had been busted into and her belongings stolen away. Rather, her purse and laptop were gone while the boxes full of clothing she had yet to bring in were torn open and strewed carelessly onto the damp, dirty pavement; Clearly, and she supposed thankfully, the thief didn't share her tastes in fashion. Still, she was upset and it was mostly towards herself. How could she have been so stupid? Having lived in New Helix once before, as part of her undergraduate program way back, Norma was well aware of the dangers of leaving valuables out in the open (or car, in this case). Yet, perhaps due to the many years living in the much more peaceful Pecha Grove and her general faith in humanity, she had still naively believed she wouldn't have been robbed.

Finally snapping from her initial shock, Norma now hurried to collect soiled blouses and dresses with small, shaky hands. Thoughts of who she could call raced through her head, but what would she say? She was sure the cops wouldn't care, her friends couldn't help if they wanted to, and her family would absolutely flip. More importantly, she didn't want anybody to worry-- After all, it wasn't liked she was hurt or anything.....So why cry about it? Her lip twitched quivered slightly.

She just had to make the best of it and move on.

He liked almost nothing. He didn't like this city. He didn't like anyone in it. He didn't like the lab he was regenerated in, or anyone in there, either. And he certainly no longer liked anyone he'd grown up with, who apparently couldn't even be bothered to find his body and give him a proper burial. He hoped they were all rotting in the afterlife, while he suffered through his own personal hell that was the modern world.

Being murdered had a way of making one awfully bitter. At least, it did for him, anyway, having already been a bit naturally inclined towards…negativity.

Which was why, while walking back home from another all-nighter on the job, he did not take kindly to someone smacking right into his shoulder, and then running off again without so much as an apology. Turning, he barked after them, "Hey, watch it, jackass!"

The man paid no heed, continuing to dash away with what looked to be a computer and a purse in his arms. Probably stolen. It was not an unusual sight in that city, which was why Lee didn't bother doing anything about it. Not his problem--beyond the fact that it'd caused him to be bumped into.

Scowling, enough that some bits of jagged black teeth peeked through from behind his lips, he continued on in the direction he'd been headed in, prior to being so rudely interrupted mid-stride. He hated people. If this had been the old times, he could have fought that guy, killed him, drank his blood, and then used his scalp as a napkin to wipe his mouth with, or something like that. He'd been informed very emphatically that such actions were frowned upon, nowadays. Not that he could say he was upset--after all, he himself had been on the losing end of his people's rather aggressive traditions--but still, it would have made him feel better. And there'd be one less thieving jackass in the world.

Ruminating over this, he made it down several more blocks deep in thought, not particularly paying attention to what was in front of him, turned a corner, and… Suddenly, he found himself trodding on a dress that was strewn across the concrete.

Muttering an exclamation of surprise and displeasure in his own dead language, he stepped back and looked around to try and deduce why on earth a random garment of clothing was just lying there in his way. It didn't take long to find the answer. Frowning at the distressed-looking woman, he mentally summed up the sight before him, jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, and informed her, in an unidentifiable accent, "If you're missing a purse and a laptop, the asshole is getting away. Might wanna…I dunno, go after him or something?"

She didn't look like much of a fighter, though. He didn't know what to think of women, in this world. In his tribe, females were rare, to say the least, so much so that there were at least seven husbands to every wife, and femininity was considered sacred. The women were trained to ride just as well as the men, and were every bit as capable in combat--to the extent that they were the inspirations for the Amazons of legend. Lee's own wife had been something of a terror. If he was being completely honest, he couldn't say he exactly missed that aspect of his old life.

By contrast, most women seemed more…docile, nowadays. Not all of them, of course, he'd met plenty (especially in the gangs) who could more than hold their own. But that didn't seem to be the rule anymore, so much as it was the exception. This society apparently did not esteem women who dunked the severed heads of their enemies in blood and then made drinking cups out of their skulls. Instead, by his standards, these women were almost alarmingly nice. And he didn't quite know how to deal with that.

Large pink curls bounced around the woman's face as she snapped her head upwards to the voice; her mouth curled into a tight frown as she first fixed her gaze on the garment, dirtied further by new shoe prints, before turning her attention toward the stranger, whose appearance was enough to make Norma take a cautious step back.

The man certainly had the “snuff-you-out-for-staring-funny” look that seemed to be the signature of New Helix residents, and his numerous piercings, intricate tattoos, and aggravated demeanor really did a good job of establishing that. But it wasn't so much his intimidating features that captivated her as it was his foreign ones--namely his peculiar hair which she tried her best not to stare at despite her own curiosity. Even more interesting was the fact that she couldn't recognize what he was, not that she was some sort of savant when it came to identifying other pokéfolk. But working in a hospital had familiarized her to hundreds of different types who could still be recognized regardless of varying shapes and forms.

And she'd never seen anyone like him before.

“Me?” There was disbelief in her voice. This guy had to have been joking. Even if she could catch up with the culprit, who she was sure was long gone, there wasn’t much she could actually do. Sure she knew ‘take down’, but tackling somebody to the ground was usually followed with more attacks, not healing. And she could never bring herself to actually harm another person anyway--- If anything, she’d be reduced to begging for her things back, and that humiliating thought alone was enough to make her ears burn hot with embarrassment.

She used her foot to drag one of the emptied cardboard boxes towards her and dropped an armful of clothing into it. “I really don’t think that would be a good idea,” Norma fiddled with her fingers as her eyes flickered between him and the dress by his feet; she was torn between grabbing it and keeping her distance between herself and the other. “I’m not exactly the vigilante-type. It'd be smarter to report it and maybe see if anyone....spotted him..." She trailed off as realization quickly dawned on her.

"Like you! You got a look of the guy, right? We could go down to the station right now and have them do a sketch!" She clapped her hands together with an excited smile; she was on her way to getting her stuff back! ...Assuming that the man was a lot kinder than he looked and would help her out.

The problem was, Lee behaved exactly as kindly as he looked--which was to say, not at all. He wasn't a bad person at heart, but "kind" was definitely not an adjective that anyone had ever used for him. As such, his immediate reaction was…less than polite.

"And why would I waste my time doing that? You really think the police in this trash city are gonna care about some laptop, with everything else they have to worry about?" He snorted, "If they even worry about anything at all. Crooked bunch of fucks."

As far as he saw it, if she couldn't be bothered to go after the thief herself, then that was her problem, not his. Though it seemed he was correct in his initial assessment that she wasn't suited for the task, anyway, even if she wanted to. Oh well. Also not his problem.

He was about to walk off and leave her behind to deal with her woes alone, but… Something stopped him. A voice in his head. Specifically, the voice of his partner-in-crime, who was very nearly his polar opposite, on the spectrum of friendliness. That annoying, goofball, goody-goody voice nagged at the back of Lee's sour mind, causing him to scowl with displeasure at the fact that it even existed as a part of his conscience. The part that informed him of how needlessly mean he was being, as usual.

He wanted to tell that part of himself that he didn't care, but it knew that wasn't true. Because it wouldn't exist, to begin with, if that were the case.

Scowling, looking like he was internally struggling with something, he finally acquiesced, begrudgingly, "…Fine. I'll go do the stupid sketch. It won't do any good, but whatever, don't say I didn't warn you." Leaning down, he snatched up the dress he just stepped on and tossed it to her. "Let's go."

Norma was mortified, if her expression hadn't already made that apparent. That wasn't at all the response she was expecting.

...Well, she had been expecting a "no" but not in such a brash manner.

Her mouth gaped slightly, as if she was going to say something-- which she desperately wanted to-- yet couldn't. She couldn't wrap her head around how somebody could be so brazen, especially towards somebody they just met, except that perhaps he was having a bad day himself...Which wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility. Since he had approached her, she could feel her hair slowly curling as it did when somebody was sick or upset.

She jolted from her daze as the dress was tossed at her, surprised by the sudden change of heart. "Oh...! Um, one moment--" The woman scrambled to lift the box up and hurried into the brick building, returning only moments later with a jacket and phone clutched tightly in her hand; it was really her only form of protection, 'just in case,' she thought.

She wanted him to lead the way but thought better of it; he was already very clearly annoyed and there was no sense in making it worse. So she hastily began down the sidewalk, head bowed almost in shame as she listened for his footsteps behind her.

"I don't care about the laptop," She finally said to break the long, painful silence. She didn't want him to think she was wasting his time for something so easily replaceable. "I can always buy another one! ...Eventually. I'm more worried about the wallet. It's a pain to replace credit cards, you know? And don't get me started on going to the DMV--" Norma gave an awkward laugh with a small grin. She was painfully aware that she was babbling yet she hoped small talk would soften the stranger up, even if just a little bit.

"I really appreciate this, by the way." Again she smiled, tucking her hands in her coat pockets. "And I swear I'll make this up to you, ....?"

(Apparently I DO have time to reply-- I just need a quick break from history or my head is going to explode :^| /shot)

If that was Norma's line of reasoning, then every single day was a bad day for him...which wasn't entirely untrue, but it also meant that this was, by no means, unusual behavior for him. He treated everyone this way, and was entirely unfazed by her bewildered expression over it.

He also wasn't about to lead the way, and probably would have plenty more brazen things to say, if she hadn't gone ahead and taken the initiative, herself. Not letting up on the annoyed look, he frowned deeply while following alongside her. Between the two of them, it was entirely backwards, which one should have looked ashamed, and which should have looked affronted. This, too, was something he recognized, in spite of himself, and that served to annoy him even further.

She was obviously too nice, that much was clear even after only having just met her. He wondered how she didn't get eaten alive, in this town--or maybe that was exactly what was in store for her, and getting robbed was only the beginning of it.

"Yeah, I don't really care. If you're trying to make small talk, then stop, it's a stupid social custom in this culture," he replied bluntly, immediately shooting down her attempt to be friendly. So much for softening up. "And don't bother making it up to me, because there's nothing to make up. If I actually went and caught the guy, then there'd be something to be grateful for." As far as he saw it, what he was doing now wasn't going to help her in the slightest. So why was he doing it...?

Then, realizing that she was asking for his name in a roundabout manner, he added in a grumble, "...It's Lee Agathyrsi." He didn't bother giving his full first name. No one knew how to pronounce it correctly, anyway. Apparently, his language didn't exist, anymore. He was the only surviving speaker.

((Hurrhurr, I am A-okay with that~ B) ))

Unfortunately for Lee, Norma was as persistent as she was nice. That was to say, she wasn’t going to stop the friendly chit-chat until she felt he was comfortable with her and vice-versa. It was a sort of “kill ‘em with kindness” defense mechanism that she used in situations like this when she knew no other way to react. At least she was doing a better job of hiding her bewilderment at his continued bluntness.

“You’re going out of your way to do something you clearly don’t care about,” Pink eyebrows knitted together “I at least owe you for that.” But how she would go about repaying him, she didn't know. He didn't exactly strike her as somebody who enjoyed coffee or really anything else, for that matter.

“And I’m Norma, by the way.” It was the answer to a question he hadn’t asked and one the woman was sure he wouldn't care to remember. Still, with a polite smile, she held out her hand for him to shake.

“So Lee….I’m guessing you aren’t from around here either?” That’s all she could assume he meant by “this culture” and she supposed that made sense. His accent, which hadn’t become obvious until he starting talking more, was definitely as peculiar as his other features; his hair, she realized as he walked next to her, wasn’t hair at all but tentacles; and his teeth were black, which she wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t opened his mouth at all. Maybe he came from one of the far off islands, perhaps from a malamar community? She genuinely didn't know, but it made her all the more curious to find out.

"No you don't. Keep your IOU, I don't want it." It was hard to say whether he refused because he was rejecting any further contact with her, or because he was trying, in his own way, to be altruistic, and was thus freeing her from any obligation to repay him. His harsh tone and way of wording things certainly didn't help to make his intentions clear.

"Hn." Norma. Weird name. Norma the normal-type. Or was she a fairy-type? Fairies were the pink ones, but he wasn't sure. When being trained back at the lab, he was given intensive instruction on modern-day battling strategies, including how to identify the new species and moves he'd never previously been exposed to. But they didn't bother teaching him much about the more passive types of pokéfolk. She must not have come from a stock well-suited for fighting, or he would have recognized more easily exactly what she was.

Glancing at her extended hand, he made a face and did not so much shake as held it briefly, before pulling away--literally, he had to pull away. His own fingers were rough and ridged, giving his grip a light suctioning effect. In addition, they were covered in microscopic cilia, as an extension of his olfactory system...meaning that for a moment, he was able to smell her as if his nose were pressed right against her skin. Which was a weird and uncomfortable sensation, to say the least. Quickly shoving his hands in his pockets to rub the smell off (not that she smelled unpleasant--quite the opposite, in fact, which was what made it so awkward), he looked away, eyebrows knitted together and cheeks flushed a slight bluish color. He didn't understand the custom of hand-touching when introducing oneself. Obviously, it was not a tradition amongst his own people.

"I moved here from Cinnabar Island," he grumbled, "And before you bother asking, I'm an omastar." He'd become accustomed by now to people not being able to identify what he was, and those who could were generally astonished by it. His regeneration was meant to be kept a secret, but he couldn't help but want to know whether or not he was the last of his kind--deep down, he still held onto the hope that there was some surviving descendants of his people out there, somewhere. So far, though, everyone he met was under the impression that the omanyte line was totally extinct.

"And what are you supposed to be, exactly?" He added, in a somewhat defensive tone. As if she was the weird one. At least he'd been right in guessing that she wasn't a native of New Helix.

Norma wasn’t used to somebody refusing her offers, at least not the second or third time she insisted, and it gave her mixed feelings. On one hand, she genuinely began to feel bad for the burden she had placed on Lee’s shoulders that clearly seemed to annoy him. On the other hand, she felt relieved by his stubbornness. Most people who she told she would repay for their help often realized they could get continual favors from the woman, big or small, which was partly why she was placed in New Helix in the first place. It bothered her a lot, but her eagerness to please and inability to say “no” outright made it difficult for her to ask them to stop.

“If you say so…”

Despite herself, and with wide eyes, she also drew her hand back as he pulled away. It wasn’t that she was disgusted by the unusual feeling of his grasp (far from it) but surprised. Very surprised. Her head immediately flooded with questions and she wondered if he got "stuck" to everything and if he always had to pull away, or if it hurt and that's why he made such a face. Judging by his reaction, however, it was better that she kept the questions to herself. He looked uncomfortable and it was hard to tell if it was because of the interaction or her. Instead, she gave him a quizzical look.

“Omastar? Really?” Obviously she hadn't paid enough attention in history class because from what she remembered omastars and omanytes were an extinct group of ancient people-- or were supposed to be, as Lee clearly contradicted. The only reasonable explanation she could come up with was that there was a community hidden away on Cinnabar Island...Whose members apparently very rarely traveled outside of. It only made more sense to her when he asked what she was.

“A blissey!” Her curls bounced as she lightly shook her head for emphasis. She was rather surprised he didn't know; most everyone else could guess right off the bat just based on her appearance. "Not a lot of folks like me where you're from, I'm guessing?" She smiled and thought he should have counted that as a blessing. If he always acted the way he did, whether it was from illness or general grouchiness, he would have been swarmed by her kind with overbearing care.

"Or here, either, I suppose. How long have you lived here?"

He seemed marginally satisfied when she didn't insist any further. Unlike her, he was on the complete opposite side of the spectrum when it came to pleasing people, and could get more than a little snippy when pushed…even when being offered a favor. A favor in return for him trying to be nicer. Yeah. He had a long way to go, in that department.

"Yeah. Omastar. Really." He looked visibly disappointed. Not that her reaction came as a shock or anything, but…he was still waiting to meet someone who had a different response. Someone who'd give him any indication, even a glimmer of hope, that he wasn't the last of his kind.

He'd never heard of a blissey in his life, never knew such a thing existed. Though in truth, he'd probably seen at least a few before in hospitals, and had simply never paid attention. It was hard to notice things like that when you'd just broken one of your own fingers. In any case, she was certainly the first one he'd ever actually met. "Never heard of 'em," he grumbled, "No such thing, where I'm from." There were so many types of people, nowadays, he could hardly keep track of them all. Life was a lot easier when all known species in the world were the ones recorded in ink on his skin.

"Few years. First city I've ever been to…" And he hated it. At first, of course, it had been the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. But after being there for a while and learning what life in New Helix was actually like, he'd rapidly become disgruntled…or rather, more disgruntled than he already was. In truth, given his personality, he may have become that way even in a perfectly nice city.