“I have good news and bad news,” Elesa announced as she invited herself into the twins’ office, primed to physically pull them away if need be, “And they’re both the same thing.”

The declaration was met by either brother raising his head to look at her in what might have been an eerie sync, but she’d been long since desensitized to it, clapping her hands in something akin to delight.

“It’s polling season!”

“Oh.” Ingo said, and returned to his work, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was echoed by a conversely pleased, “Oh?” somewhere behind his back.

“That’s not the news,” Elesa said, bidding a direct path over so she could insert herself into Ingo’s space, hooking an arm over his shoulders. He heard the soft sound of a shoe leveraging itself against drawers, the skittering of plastic wheels, and then felt a soft thump as the other chair collided against his desk.

“I think I’d prefer to live in ignorance.” Even keeping his attention trained down on the tabletop, he saw a white-sleeved arm prop itself up nearby and could imagine the gleeful anticipation on his twin’s face.

“Coward.” Emmet accused, and while the grin didn’t come through in his voice, Ingo knew for a fact it was there.

Frankly, he was a little surprised to deal with this sort of ribbing under the circumstances. Surely being visibly gravid would affect a poll revolving around physical appearance? Then again, as Emmet had observed some time ago, some people were… peculiar about that sort of thing. Ingo wasn’t a sexual being on a normal day, and rather felt that he currently fell deep into the negatives on that particular scale, but people proved time and time again that there was simply no accounting for taste. It was only his business when he had to chase them out of corners or bite his tongue and politely ask a subway patron to save their activities for somewhere more appropriate.

He didn’t know how he’d landed a top spot in the first place, but was relatively sure every subsequent ranking was the result of a city-wide joke. Usually, he didn’t mind. Let them have their fun; it didn’t change his view of himself. At the moment, however, he was-- admittedly-- a bit self conscious.

The arm over his shoulders raised up, knuckles grazing the top of his hat and sending it askew. “Guess who’s in the running for a top-ranking DILF.”

Laughter sounded off to the side, a wonderful reminder that he could always count on his beloved twin brother to have his back.

“That’s...” He stopped short, trying to find the most appropriate words for what it was, and found himself at something of a loss. What he settled for was: “Flattering, I suppose. And also gross.”

Elesa cackled, having found the response she sought, and playfully bopped the cap fully into his face.

“Do your favorite fashionista a favor?” She asked with an exaggerated piteousness, “If you’d deign to be seen in public with me, I could really use the Carkolbert Bump.”

“You’re the most recognizable gym leader in the entirety of Unova; I fail to see how I could contribute in any capacity.” Wryly, he added, “And I’m sorry to tell you, but the only meaningful bump I can provide isn’t going anywhere for the next several months.”

“Let me rephrase that. We’re getting lunch, end of discussion.”

-

Thus far, Emmet had understood his brother’s decisions in bringing their family up to speed with the situation. Even if she hadn’t figured things out ahead of time, Lane was always going to be the easiest to talk to on this subject, and the most important thing when dealing with Drayden was self assurance. Clay’s presence had been something of a surprise, but given how close he was to their uncle, bringing him into the fold was a fairly logical choice.

That just left Elesa, who was without a doubt going to be the hardest to convince. It was somewhat difficult to figure out the best approach where she was concerned; too casual and she would pass it off as an extended joke, too straight-faced-- metaphorically speaking-- and she’d assume something had gone seriously wrong. They’d been passing the problem back and forth for several days with minimal progress, which was why he was surprised when, on the walk to get lunch, Ingo had leaned in to murmur that he might try broaching the subject this afternoon.

If he thought that was a good idea, Emmet wasn’t going to stop him, but neither did he know how to offer backup. When half their lunch break had passed without any mention, however, he began to wonder whether it was a warning that Ingo was considering it if he saw the opportunity, and that opportunity just hadn’t arisen.

“Your drink must be pretty fascinating, huh?” Elesa asked, leaving the question of ‘why’ an open one.

It was something Emmet had noticed as well, but declined any comment upon; his brother seemed much more interested in methodically working through the ice in said drink than the remaining portion of his lunch. Personally, Emmet had passed it off as contemplation-- trying to locate an opening and utilize it-- but there were any number of reasons it could be happening.

And, as it turned out…

“Would you judge me for trying the lemon slice?”

...it was completely unrelated.

Elesa chuckled, then poked her tongue out in mock-disgust, “After the pickle and funnel cake? No. If your body’s telling you you need it, there’s a reason. It came with the drink, so it’s yours anyway-- no one’s going to care what you do with it.”

“I understand that, but it’s meant for garnish.”

“It’s a fruit. It’s meant to be consumed.”

While plainly entertained, Elesa was also mercifully silent as he humored the urge and took a small bite from the piece of lemon-- and she must have been right about it containing something he’d been lacking in, because he opted to focus on it instead of his actual order.

Emmet was beginning to think the impromptu plan had fallen through when, for the second time in as many minutes, his twin proved him wrong, shuffling the lemon rind to the edge of his plate and squaring his shoulders in preparation.

“I appreciate that you’ve been so patient thus far,” Ingo said, for once struggling to meet Elesa’s eyes, “This is perhaps an ill-advised place to say as much, and I can only trust that you’ll keep your response measured for the other patrons’ sake, but you deserve to hear sooner than later. It has already been delayed long enough.”

Already, their prediction was proven accurate. Elesa’s posture turned tense and worried.

In an attempt to head it off, Ingo succinctly said, “We’ve made the decision to keep the passengers once they’ve arrived.”

Her immediate instinct was to snort, contrasting the look on her face, which suggested she was entirely aware that the statement hadn’t been made in jest.

She planted her hands on the table, arms bent, and leaned forward.

“I love you, but that thing with the lemon? About hearing what your body needs? This isn’t the same. There’s a big fucking difference between trying a piece of fruit and listening to the hormones telling you to change the entire course of your life.” She shot Emmet a sharp look in turn. “And you’re just going along with this? Why haven’t you talked some sense into him?”

“He’s pregnant. Not delusional.” Emmet shot back, words clipped, “It wasn’t a decision made on a whim. I understand his logic. I agree with him. It’s not difficult.”

“Of course. Because dragons forbid either of you calls the other out for being stupid.” She hissed.

That was patently untrue and she knew it, but clearly anger had gotten the better of her; Emmet wasn’t entirely sure what might defuse the situation, and glanced to Ingo for guidance just as he looked over to Emmet. It was purely coincidental, but must have played into Elesa’s criticism, spurring her to scoff and push her chair back.

“Elesa--”

“Don’t want to hear it right now, Ingo.” While incensed, she kept her voice level and everything but her expression natural as she got up, leaving her portion of the bill on the table, “Just-- give me some time to think.”

And, with that, she schooled her features and walked away.

Neither of them spoke until well after the cafe’s door swung shut behind her.

“That went badly.”

“She was never going to take kindly to the line of thought; her willingness to give it further consideration is arguably the best response we could have gotten.” Ingo said, neither agreement nor disagreement, and began drumming his fingertips on the tabletop.

Shaking his head, Emmet briefly glanced to the clock, verifying how little time they had before they, too, needed to depart, “Why today? And here?”

“It seemed kinder to approach it in a neutral space, which saved her the dilemma of an abrupt departure from our apartment or asking that we vacate hers. My only concern is that she may take it out on any challengers she meets this afternoon.” He said, fingers tapping idly, eyes still on the entryway. “It was also an option to save it for a day we had dinner together instead, but my energy is beginning to flag as of late, and I’m unsure how viable that track truly would have been, never mind the fact that she’s already learning this far later than mom and Drayden.”

“You weren’t concerned someone might overhear?”

“Unless it was something she had planned, Elesa would never cause a scene in public. Even if someone happened to overhear our conversation today,” He broke off here to cast a glance around the cafe and how few people were choosing to sit in with their orders, “The most they would learn is that we weren’t originally intending to keep the passengers.”

And that was a minimal risk. With the exception of individuals like the woman from the station and online conspiracy theorists, the public assumption was that something untoward had happened to cause the passengers’ conception. If that was the understanding, it made sense that keeping the children wasn’t a guarantee.

The logic checked out on most fronts, and he wasn’t entirely sure what variables could have been changed for a better reception. Maybe dropping hints? But no, there was no guarantee that they would land, and that would take far too long.

He went exactly forty two seconds without speaking, and-- continuing to track the second hand’s progress-- decided that it wasn’t worth pouring over right now. There was no changing what had happened.

“Six minutes remain before we’re scheduled to depart. I know it’s difficult. But please make an effort to finish your lunch.”

To his side there was a breathy, subdued laugh, “There’s no need to worry. My appetite has actually increased substantially; it’s just difficult to accommodate, as it’s been at a fouling point with undue anxiety in recent days.”

“’Undue’ may not be entirely accurate.” Emmet said under his breath; he was well aware that it did absolutely nothing to keep his brother from hearing it at this distance, but it was more for the pageantry of it than it was function. He shook his head. “Elesa will come around. Even if she disagrees. She is not the type to walk away from a friendship like this.”

“I know. I just… worry how we might make it work in the long run, should she decide she doesn’t want anything to do with them.”

“We will attempt to accommodate. But that much is her decision as well. We have no say in how she chooses to respond to this. And she does not get to dictate what happens with the passengers.” He gave another shake-- full body this time, the dispel the contrite air that had begun to settle. “Five minutes now! I will go pay. Finish your food.”