It wasn’t surprising that Lane’s house was substantially stilled in the wake of Drayden and Iris’s departure, but there was a quantifiable difference; said difference made it incredibly easy for Elesa hear something that otherwise would have been camouflaged under the ambient noise of people and Pokemon.

“Should I be concerned that you were the only one whose objection was the pregnancy itself?” Ingo asked, just shy of quiet now that the baseline had dropped so drastically.

“No. We all know I am the only one here who possesses common sense.”

“Ah, that’s her name, is it?” He asked and reached out to the stowaway Joltik who’d climbed up to his twin’s shoulder, offering to scratch beneath her chin.

When, instead, she crawled onto his hand, Emmet wrinkled his nose. “I’ve been betrayed.”

“Common sense has taken leave of you.” Ingo added gravely. There was a beat of silence and then, in unison, they ducked their heads and laughed.

Elesa glanced across the room, catching Lane’s eye. If she recognized that behavior, certainly their mother did, too: the almost giddy relief at having overcome a stressor. It was a little sad to think-- that, on top of the pregnancy itself, they’d been so wound up over the prospect of telling their small family circle.

She recognized that her own reaction had probably only proved that the concern was warranted, but she--

She’d been worried . They’d been acting wrong for weeks-- one more so than the other-- and no amount of telling her that it was under control had settled the fear in her heart. The other afternoon, she really thought she’d had it nailed down, and it was a terrible prospect that her friend might have been suffering from disordered eating, but there was something to be done for that. She could help with that. She’d understood exactly what Ingo had meant in spite of the word choice, because knowing was better than not knowing.

It still was, because at least they had the reassurance that he wasn’t dying in front of them, though the reality of it was harder to swallow than she might have expected.

But… she could help, even in this. Maybe she couldn’t fix the problem, but her skill set and connections could be put to use here.

“So you said you’re staying on track until ‘concessions have to be made’. Did you mean…?” A little awkwardly, she made a curving gesture in front of her stomach.

Fuck that was a weird thought. She’d known the twins since the lot of them had been kids themselves, and never, never, had any of them had any interest in playing house or caring for a doll. She distinctly remembered being told that she’d want kids someday-- back when they’d been perceived as a gaggle of teenage girls-- and Ingo had been the one to tell the person off, to say in no uncertain terms that they couldn’t presume to know Elesa’s ideal future better than she did.

And now he was going to have a baby. He was being forced to have a baby.

Running parallel to the turn Elesa’s thoughts had taken and never once overlapping, Ingo said, “That’s one such factor, yes. I had intended to ask your advice at a more appropriate time.”

“What exactly makes now inappropriate?” She asked, and didn’t wait for a response. Rolling the edge of her bracelet between a thumb and forefinger, she added, “There are a couple of easy alterations we could make to your uniform to hide things right away. Swapping your usual dress shirt out is a good starting point; black is slimming to begin with, and reducing the contrast between the shirt and your coat would help hide weight gain. Emmet’s uniform doesn’t have any black in it, anyway-- you can use that as an excuse.”

“Thank you; that makes a great deal of sense.” He hesitated for a second, weighing his options, and then asked, “Forgive me if it’s improper to broach the subject, but do you have any suggestions in regards to minimizing one’s chest, specifically?”

“You’re fine, hon.” Making the connection between that and the fact that neither twin had opted to bind for today’s gathering, Elesa added, “That really depends on the problem. Are your binders already too small?”

Without thinking, she glanced down, gauging for herself.

“Save it for Skyla.” Emmet said dryly, and when she turned a sharp look on him, made a point of raising an arm to cover himself.

“I hate you.” She blurted, color burning in her cheeks, and immediately realized that it was, perhaps, not the most appropriate response in front of the twins’ mother.

Lane watched on, thoroughly unimpressed, and leaned onto the arm of the couch, voice a mock-whisper, “Are you sure you don’t want kids? This is what you could look forward to.”

Tilting his wrist to accommodate the small spider crawling over his hand, Ingo took a second before saying, “No disrespect, mom, but why would I want children when I have common sense?”

“Smart ass.” She grumbled affably, sitting back in her chair as intended, “Don’t know where you got that.”

“I stole her from Emmet.”

“As adorable as Common Sense is, we’re getting distracted,” Elesa cut in, turning her nose up to snub the younger of the pair as she focused on the older, “Problem in the chest region: what is it? Too big?”

As if surprised by the question he’d originally posed, Ingo’s face went faintly pink, “Unfortunately yes, the size is becoming a problem, but a secondary issue-- and arguably the more pressing one-- is irritation.”

Elesa’s lips pulled into a grimace and she hissed sympathetically, “Yeah, sensitivity tracks. A comfortable sports bra should help in terms of compression. If you don’t mind a more visible alteration, you could add another layer-- get some more bulk in there to hide under. A waistcoat wouldn’t stand out too much.”

He nodded, considering it, and then glanced to Emmet.

“No one will question it as long as we match. That sounds workable.”

“I’ll take a look at some patterns tomorrow. If it’s designed right, it should even buy you a little more time before anything starts showing.” Without meaning to, her attention slid off to the side and, already deep in thought, she began to chew on the inside of her bottom lip.

“Elesa,” Ingo said, gratitude already ringing true in his voice, “Thank you again. Your support means more than I can adequately articulate.”

Unbidden, she thought back to the short conversation she’d had with Emmet an hour prior. “Of course-- just let me know if there’s anything else I can help with.”

She lapsed into silence at that, contemplating everything she’d learned today. Not sick, save for a temporary parasite. While she was glad they’d finally come clean about it, it was a little mind boggling to think that this wasn’t even a fourth of the way through. She’d been worried for weeks already-- assuming things adhered to a forty-week time frame, she had another thirty two to find more reasons to be concerned. Not that she hadn’t gotten a head start tonight.

Fuck. Poor Ingo, there wasn’t a single aspect of this that would work in his favor. It was going to be a massive strain on his physical and mental health, and there was no way around the fact that it was definitely going to out him. Even once it was over, he was going to have to take time off to recover from what had been done to him.

What else could she do? The waistcoat would be a good start, but she could do more than just that. She tried to focus on what Emmet had said-- that now was the time to offer support instead of indignation-- but couldn’t help the thread of anger that wove its way into her thought processes.

She kept an ear open to the conversation happening around her-- which consisted largely of Lane puttering from one piece of advice to the next while either twin chimed in with bits of their own research-- and tried to store the information for later.

Eventually, Emmet called out to her, specifically.

“The 8:00 pm train from Anville Town to Nimbasa will be arriving in eleven minutes.” He reported, a bit redundant under the repeated looks he’d been shooting at the clock; a solid decade of friendship meant Elesa barely needed a timepiece of her own when either of them was around. “It will be the last departure for the night.”

“You’re welcome to stay, of course,” Lane said, and Elesa gave a regretful shake of her head.

“Unlike the boy scouts over there, I didn’t come prepared for an overnight.”

“You also have a staff meeting in the morning, if memory serves.” Ingo put in, frown denoting deliberation rather than the usual resting bitch face-- and, again, why did she even bother trying to keep track on her own? “There’s no need to add the stress of an early commute on top of that.”

“Alright, alright. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” She said, one arm tossed dramatically over her forehead; she dropped it as she stood from her chair and stretched before stepping closer to give Lane a hug.

Making absolutely certain she didn’t forget her clutch on the coffee table, she allowed herself to be flanked and escorted to the door, but just after crossing the threshold, stopped and stared down the shallow ramp, nibbling on her lip. She turned.

“Seriously, if there’s anything I can do to help...”

“But you are helping?” Emmet asked, head tilted in toward his brother as if to see from a different perspective.

Ingo didn’t mirror the gesture, but did incline his head, “Please don’t sell yourself short, your support means a great deal in and of itself.”

Again, it didn’t feel like very much. She resolved to check out existing patterns as soon as she got home; maybe she could combine a typically masculine design with something that could be let out as time passed…

What she actually said was, “If we’re writing complaints to Arceus, I can draft some hatemail. I bet we could completely flood its inbox.”

“Are… are you threatening to DDoS Arceus?” Ingo asked, not without a hint of amusement.

“I have considered many battle strategies. That was not one of them.”

“Maybe I am.” Elesa said, a tinge of good humor returning through her sudden reverie, but only for a fleeting moment. She heaved a sigh and wrapped an arm around either of them, “Alright, I’ve gotta get Zigzaggoin’. We’ll talk about the waistcoat more tomorrow, okay? Love you guys.”

The arms that curved around her released as she stepped back, and, seen off with a pair of salutes and murmured good nights, she left to catch her train, mind churning.