There was a certain behavioral threshold that Ingo was inclined to pass off as normal where Rael and Kari were concerned-- not in terms of temper tantrums or mischief, but harmless oddities. He wasn’t bothered by it; they’d come about it honestly, even disregarding their other parent.

The problem was that he could usually trace it back to some source, even if it was a nonsensical one, and there was no immediate reason for Kari to hide his right arm. If it wasn’t conspicuously covered, then he was tucking it behind his back or hastily turning away. It didn’t seem like part of a game the passengers had concocted-- genuine worry shone through on his face whenever he realized he needed to act-- which left Ingo to believe that he’d gotten hurt.

He wasn’t going to try to catch him by a matter of degrees; he just needed to be forthright.

While the boys ducked around the shelves in the cramped storage room, Ingo recorded the unclaimed BP rewards, the amount of stock left, and what would be a suitable replacement for those items that simply didn’t move. Consumables were always in demand, and the EV training gear sold well enough, but those items like the Toxic, Flame and Life Orbs seemed to be out of battling fashion. That was a pity; it only took a little creativity to make good use of them. He made a note to search for any of them on social media; it was entirely possible that a new wave of well-meaning misinformation was spreading again, warning trainers against the orbs’ use. He wasn’t the sort to raise a fuss over it-- and if anyone was going to try to fight that perception, it would have been Emmet-- but he wanted to understand where it was coming from.

His own use of Bide paid off after some time. Kari sidled up next to him, peeking into one of the containers and gently brushing his fingertips against the soft fabric of a Choice Scarf.

Ingo was careful not to move his head as he asked, “What happened to your arm?”

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Kari snatch it back, clapping his left hand over it, but he didn’t try to hide it away this time. That gave Ingo the time to look over in full, and to confirm that yes, he had, in fact, injured it. It was decorated in a row of adhesive bandages, lined up as best clumsy six year old hands could manage, but hints of three parallel scratches peeked through.

Even as they were looking directly at it, Kari had the audacity to try, “...nothing.”

“Do you mean to tell me you were just using bandages for the thrill of it?”

“It’s… cool?” Kari tried again.

Ingo sighed and stood up-- not letting the matter drop, but aware that they were getting nowhere fast. He had a suspicion why that might be.

“Rael!” He called across the space, and the other twin poked his head around a shelf of vitamins before trotting over to investigate. “Could you please take this to your father for me? It’s best to submit the report as soon as possible, but there’s a matter that needs further investigation before I leave the stockroom.”

Rael immediately looked at the contents of the clipboard as he accepted it, but he almost certainly didn’t understand the bulk of what it said. Though their skills in reading were coming along nicely, they only had the means to recognize some of those words when spoken aloud-- none of their books dealt in Scope Lenses or Magmarizers. Yet.

When he realized he couldn’t snoop, he gave a shallow shrug and tucked it under one arm, and before he made to leave, he tried to sign a sly “Dummy.” to Kari.

“I beg your pardon, what did you just call me?” Ingo asked, feigning offense to diffuse the situation; it would be better to call him on it, but he didn’t want to risk Kari getting away in the process, so for now, this would suffice. Rael’s face went red and he wrenched the door open to dart away, trying to escape both punishment and the shame of mistakenly “insulting” his father to his face.

The door clicked shut, and it was just the two of them.

He looked back to Kari, and then, meaningfully, at the child’s arm. “Would you like to revise your statement?”

Kari stared at it just as intensely, picking at the end of one of the many bandages that decorated the limb. “You’ll be mad.”

“You’re hurt, duckling. I’m not mad at you, I’m worried.” He explained, crouching down to meet his son on his level.

“You told me not to.” Kari said, and the attention was too much, causing him to look away in guiltily. After a few seconds, he scrunched his nose up. “Or maybe it was dad. I don’t remember.”

“I’m not sure how that factors in.” Ingo said softly, “You’re hurt now, and the last thing Emmet or I would want is to be the reason you didn’t seek help. Even if the damage could have been prevented, that doesn’t matter once it’s happened; the important thing is to report it and make sure it’s addressed.”

Kari tore his gaze away from the lowest shelf and risked looking up at his father from the corner of his eyes. “You won’t be mad?”

“I won’t be mad.” Ingo promised him. Truth be told, he already had a decent idea what might have happened, but he wanted to hear the events as Kari could tell them.

The boy puffed up his cheeks and thrust his arm out, almost like he was trying to get it over with. Mindful of where he placed his hands, Ingo turned it so the bandages were facing up, confirming that the claw pattern was approximately what he’d expected.

“There was a Purrloin.” Kari said, shamefaced. “It stayed right there when I got close. It was so pretty, and I thought it was gonna be nice.”

Instead of interjecting, Ingo simply nodded along, unwilling to derail the truth now that they were finally approaching it; he moved one of his hands to push Kari’s hair back from his face and stroke down the back of his head. “Can you tell me what Purrloin did before it scratched you? You said it was upset, but how did you know that?”

“Growled.” Kari said succinctly, frowning at his arm.

“I see,” Ingo hummed, nodding gently along. More on principle than because he needed it spelled out, he asked, “And how did you respond?”

“Tried to get it to sniff me. To show it I wasn’t scary.” The boy admitted, eyes shifting from his own skin to the floor.

Ingo’s hand stilled, resting comfortingly on the back of his son’s neck. “Hmm. Well, what if we reversed your positions? If a Pokemon you didn’t know approached you, and you didn’t want to interact with it, what would you do?”

“What kind of Pokemon?” Kari’s distraction was immediate, and his father barely even batted an eye.

“A Palpitoad,” He said, knowing that the species’ squishy skin would be an effective deterrent for this hypothetical-- and Kari wrinkled his nose. “It wants to touch you, and you don’t know why; it could be nice, or it could be about to play some kind of trick on you. How do you stop it?”

“Tell it no.”

He nodded, and then returned his hand to Kari’s arm in preparation. “And what if that doesn’t work?”

“...run away?” Kari half-suggested, half-asked.

“You flashed your hazard lights, and it didn’t heed that warning, so you had to take matters into your own hands.” Ingo summarized for them. He traced a line in the air, well above the scratches, drawing attention to them, “Purrloin also tried to communicate, and when that didn’t work, it had to change tracks. This is why your dad and I ask you not to play with Pokemon you don’t know; not because we think they’re mean, but because you might not recognize what they’re trying to tell you.”

Kari nibbled on his lip and, reluctantly, repeated, “It growled.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Stop it.”

“Then you did recognize its signal, and proceeded regardless.” He paused, watching the corners of Karis’ mouth twitch from the guilt; he clearly regretted both his actions and the consequences they’d wrought, so hopefully this would be the last time he needed this lesson. “Why, duckling? Your intention wasn’t to get a rise from Purrloin, was it?”

“No!” Kari burst out, tearing his arm away so he could frantically wave his hands, “No! I wanted Purrloin to like me!”

Halfway under his breath, confused more than disapproving, Ingo murmured, “By disregarding its wishes?”

Kari shook his head rapidly, hands floating uncertainly in front of his chest like he wanted to say what he felt, but was caught between signing it and speaking aloud. Ingo waited for the thought to settle and, eventually, Kari said, “I wanted it to be my friend, like how Chandelure is your friend. I thought if it smelled me, it might change its mind.”

Ingo elected not to point out that, back when the both of them were children, Litwick had been a greater danger than a semi-feral Purrloin; she hadn’t meant to be, but it was part of being a Pokemon who fed on energy. Bypassing that tangent in its entirely, he took one of Kari’s free floating hands.

“Can we think back to our Palpitoad?” He asked gently, and Kari made a face that suggested he hadn’t appreciated the reminder. “This time, we know what Palpitoad wants: it wants you to play with it. You’ve told it no, but it’s not listening. That would be scary, wouldn’t it? If it’s not listening now, why would it listen later, if your play gets too intense? Its insistence wouldn’t change your mind; ignoring Purrloin’s boundaries only proved to it that it was right to be frightened.”

Kari stood stock still, eyes gravitating toward the floor as he drifted deep into thought. When he raised them again, he didn’t say anything more, but tangled his fingers together nervously.

“I understand, Kari; you were excited and hoping to make a new friend, but you can’t let that override your safety checks.” At the look on Kari’s face, Ingo tried reframing the situation, “You’ll find a partner in due time; there’s no need to run the red, or force a bond that isn’t there. You wouldn’t want them to feel like they had to be your friend, would you?”

The boy slowly shook his head and then stepped nearer, leaning into his father’s side. Ingo reached over to his far shoulder to give him a squeeze, and then gave his upper arm-- well clear of the scratches-- a short ruffling. “Was there anything else you wanted to say while we’re here? If not, I’d like to move to the infirmary and ensure that your arm gets the treatment it needs.”

“...nah.” Kari muttered and, in direct contradiction to his claim, went on to ask, “But do we-- do we have to go? I already got it covered.”

He held the offending arm out, as if to prove how well he’d done, and-- looking at the gaps in between-- Ingo sighed. “I’m afraid it’s non-negotiable; you’ve reported the damage, but it needs to be properly assessed.”

Kari’s eyes flickered over each of the bandages he’d plastered over his skin, counting them, and when he was done, he winced. Ingo took that opportunity to stand in full, and rested a hand on his son’s back.

“We’re departing, now; full speed ahead, in order to secure medical attention for our injured passenger.” He turned away to hide his amusement when Kari puffed up his cheeks exasperatedly, and gave him a fond pat on the back to spur both of them into motion, “We’ll get you taken care of, duckling.”