There was a beat of silence between the radio turning on and any actual message coming through.

When his brother did speak, it was to say, “There’s an, ah… well, there’s a Pokemon, here.”

“Groundbreaking.” / “Could you possibly be more specific?”

“Tall, purple,” / “It– no? She? Okay, then– she has very long claws.”

“Stop. Do you mean to say you don’t know what this Pokemon is?”

“Not entirely, no. She looks somewhat like a Sneasel, but the– yes, hello. I believe she liked that, so she’s definitely related to the Sneasel family in some regard.”

—

He startled and took half a step back, but, in spite of the earlier volume, didn’t shout or scramble away from her. Eyes wide, he hid his mouth behind one hand to clear his throat and, apologetically, said, “Terribly sorry, it wasn’t my intention to [invade her space]. Are you lost? I’m afraid I can’t permit you to remain here– it’s quite dangerous to be roaming these tunnels, you see, especially during operating hours.”

The Pokemon at his elbow swayed in the air and said, “You really shouldn’t be down here– you could get hit by a train if you’re not careful! No one wants that!”

As if continuing directly from her [addition], the man added, “Would you accompany us to the station? Perhaps we can get you situated in a more suitable environment.”

Oh, had Sneasler managed to run into the Noble and Warden so quickly? That was convenient. Suspiciously so, but there was no reason to take it out on them; she knew the job, and they were just fulfilling their clan-given duties.

“You are the Noble and Warden of this territory?” She asked, eyes flickering between the pair.

The other Pokemon twirled in the air, letting loose a thoughtful hum. Her companion glanced at her and breathed a short laugh, but swiftly returned his attention to Sneasler.

“I don’t know about that first part, but we work here at Gear Station. I’m Chandelure! Ingo is my trainer!”

Sneasler inclined her head and returned the greeting, but she could feel her lips twitch in [displeasure]. She was… familiar with the term ‘trainer’, but her understanding of it stemmed from the Galaxy fools and traders who fumbled to cooperate with the Pokemon they’d chosen. None of the pairs she’d seen before seemed as fond of one another as these two did, limited though her perception of them was.

The human’s– Ingo’s– expression didn’t shift in response to her [?], but something in his tone turned distinctly [disappointed], “Ah, well… while I recognize that your circumstance is far from ideal, I must reiterate that you can’t be down here. It would be in everyone’s best interest if you might reconsider your stance, and willingly couple yourself to us.”

[…]

Ah. Okay. Now this? This was something Sneasler could work with.

It was strange that the other Warden looked exactly like the first, but the uniforms in clan colors transcended cultures, it seemed. This made perfect sense. Two Wardens to a territory. She wondered where the other Noble might have been.

“Ingo.” The other said flatly, the same disembodied voice from before, “I am aware that half of the DNA in the subway system is unidentified. But what did you drag out of the tunnels.”

“That’s yet to be determined, but as I said before, she does seem to bear some relation to Sneasels.”

She trilled, hoping to allay any inter-faction tensions by confirming for herself. The other Warden spared her another up-and-down glance, shrugged, and offered a bright smile.

—

“Miss Sneasler,” / “Operating hours have ended for the day. We must depart from the station soon.”

“Under normal circumstances, we’d entrust a lost Pokemon to the local precinct, but given your [conduct] today, we can only assume that you’re somewhat averse to the idea.”

“We cannot allow you to remain in Gear Station unsupervised. That leaves verrrry few options to pick from. If you find it acceptable, you may join us for the evening.”

[…]

But that left one very important question: which of the Wardens was she supposed to accompany? She didn’t know anything about the clans they were from or how delicate the situation might have been. Would she be dragging the Pearl Clan into a conflict they couldn’t afford if she chose one over the other? Would it be seen as a declaration of partnership or– worse– one of war?

Mind racing, she trailed a pace behind the pair, not paying attention to the path they wove through the strangely-lit roads in favor of her hasty attempt at political damage control. Arceus dammit, she hid in the mountains to avoid this exact kind of nastiness.

So it was something of a surprise when their paths failed to diverge– when they entered the same building, and then the same domicile without a harsh word between them. Even when Emmet bopped the brim of Ingo’s hat over the man’s face, it was met with a fond amusement and same-scale retaliation.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Eelektross, once he’d been released and had a moment to shake himself out.

“They… get along?”

There was a whistling snicker from her other side, and, when Sneasler looked, Chandelure said, “Only until Elesa makes a pun. Then it’s open season.”

“I still don’t get it,” Eelektross said, bypassing Sneasler entirely to rest his head on one of Chandelure’s arms, “They’re clever jokes. What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re baaaaaad~” Chandelure gleefully sing-songed, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s great, but they’re awful!”

The eel hummed, accepting the answer even if he wasn’t satisfied with it, and slipped away from the conversation.

—

“I think she has imprinted on you.”

“How? She’s a fully evolved, mature Pokemon.”

“You baby the Pokemon. It only stands to reason.”

“Look, if this is about Crustle’s shell, he couldn’t reach that far back.”

“It was not! But thank you for admitting to another crime.”

“Emmet.” He said flatly, to a beaming smile.

“Yep!” Said his twin, and immediately turned on his heel and left.

Ingo stared at the vacant spot for a moment before turning to Sneasler, gesturing mildly to where his brother had been as if to say, ‘did you see that shit?’