The gathering crowd was easy to see, even from the opposite side of the pastures, and only grew denser along Floaro Main Street as they drew nearer. The Commander stood foremost, facing the incoming group, with Zisu flanking him a pace away. Opposite them were only a handful of figures– fewer than there should have been for travel through the wilds, from what he could gather. One long-haired representative of the Diamond Clan, pulled up to his full height in self-importance, a lanky purple Pokemon, and, on the far side, barely visible past the others…

Emmet quickened his pace as much as he thought he could get away with. Rei startled and leapt to make up the difference, quickly setting an appropriate example and reining him in.

“– can accept that, so long as my Pokemon are seen to.”

Unlike the street proper, the angle they approached at was nearly unoccupied, and Emmet was making no effort to blend in; the Diamond member– the Highlands Warden, by process of elimination– glanced over and his eyes widened in something that might have been dismay.

“Almighty Dialga,” He groaned like a prayer, “There are two of them.”

The Pokemon in the smaller group’s center turned the instant the Warden moved, face scrunched, nose twitching, and looked away to its other side, chittering incomprehensibly– then it moved, not just pivoting on the spot, but ushering the person beside it to look, too. Ingo didn’t fight against its whims, though he did spend the first half-second looking to the Pokemon, trying to decipher what it wanted from him.

As he staggered toward where the Pokemon was [ushering] him, that confusion faded, replaced by a different sort entirely.

“…Emmet?” He asked, after a too-long beat, and, inevitably, Emmet’s restraint failed him.

He tore away from Rei and to the middle of the meeting point, heedless of the spectators gathered to one side, halting only when the Pokemon plucked him up by the collar. Inconvenient, but not the worst thing that could’ve happened. Hands raised, he faltered, unsure what to do, how to help.

Because now that they were facing each other in full, Ingo was so visibly hurt. Either the Pokemon or the Warden had helped ease his right arm into the makeshift sling of his coat, and the same side of his face was covered in one massive, purpling bruise. It was obvious, looking now, that the Pokemon had moved the peculiar way it had because he was leaning on it for support, clutching at its opposite shoulder with a thickly-bandaged hand.

Emmet tried to speak, but found his throat too tight to so much as [???]. Instead, he reached out with one uselessly-hovering hand. The arm in the sling twitched upward.

The silence was cut as Kamado ostensibly asked, “You know this person.”

Ironically, Ingo’s response was more a question than what it answered.

“Yes…?”

“I see. Thank you for being candid with me.” / “Captain?”

“Yeah,” She said and, without any further instruction, stepped forward, cutting in between Ingo and the Pokemon he was leaning against, “Excuse me, Lady Sneasler, I’ll take over from here.”

She ducked beneath his arm, taking the weight across her shoulders instead, and planted one firm hand on his side. He flinched horribly, but his only protest began as she tried to steer him toward the Galaxy building, attention flickering between Zisu and a still-dangling Emmet.

“Captain Zisu, please, wait–”

“I know,” She [idk], almost soothing, “He’s coming with us. Sneasler, could you…?”

The Pokemon hesitated, flexing her just-freed paw [unhappily] and leaned in to sniff at the side of Emmet’s face. He pulled away on instinct, but didn’t get far. With a surprising gentleness, she set him back down– not on Zisu’s unoccupied side, as she’d been signaling for, but to Ingo’s right.

Zisu’s eyes darted, minutely, to Kamado, and she sighed, “Alright. Just stick with us, okay? Things are going to get rough if you don’t.”

Unable to force the vehement response out– that he certainly wasn’t about to leave now– Emmet nodded and automatically fell in line with his brother. The crowd parted for them, and it would have been [idk] in its familiarity, striding through a [crowded] street side by side, if not for everythingelse.

Several unsteady steps down the road, Ingo shifted his hurt arm again, silently– if purposefully– offering its crook. His right eye was nearly swollen shut, but still trained on Emmet, the tilt of his mouth encouraging.

With a gentle uncertainty, Emmet laid a hand against the offered hollow.

When there was no answering wince, he allowed it to stay.

The pace was glacial in comparison to what they usually kept, allowing the villagers to disperse and overtake them, heads swiveling to watch all the while. They were just moving up the steps to Galaxy Hall when the double doors burst open and Akari stopped short of leaping down the landing. She sucked in a sympathetic breath and moved back to the threshold, keeping one of the doors open so they could pass.

“What was it?” She asked, allowing it to fall shut and weaving around Emmet, leading toward the infirmary.

“The Alpha Steelix.” Ingo said; he didn’t elaborate further, focus elsewhere, “Miss Akari, would it be too much to ask that you see to my team while I’m indisposed? Machamp battled beautifully, but didn’t come away without his own injuries, and Gliscor–”

There was a huff of rueful laughter from ahead.

“Yeah, Gliscor. Say no more.” Akari shook her head, “I’ll take care of ‘em– but Lady Sneasler’s your problem.”

“That she is.”