“The park. Don’t forget your keys.” The amusement in his voice is clear as he watches the other fish around for the bare essentials when late night Pokemon hunting. He’s truly exhausted, isn’t he. Alvis considers sending him back to bed, but the proposition is already on the table, and he cannot possibly go out alone. That attitude is for those without friends, and .. murder victims.
Reaching out, he tugs his friend by the arm over the threshold, a giddy sensation settling in his chest. The walk to the park will be only a few blocks, and he is positive that the various paths throughout the grassy sanctuary will be swarming with people, all with similar evening plans.
Tracking digital creatures aside, Alvis enjoys the idea of dragging Shulk out into the night for a long walk. He had found him to be one of the few who would humor his theories on ideology, especially at such an hour, when such talks are best held. He would forever thank the stars for sending him someone with an even more active imagination than his own, and intelligence to match.
“Oh – and eevees,” he adds, snapping out of his thoughts, “Plenty of those. Mostly I would just like a dragonair. The chances are slim, but, you know,” a dreamy sigh, “What team are you on, by the way? I never asked.”
Shulk stuffs his hands into each of his coat pockets in turn, making his way down the checklist of things he needs. He’s just hit “pack of wintergreen gum” when Alvis tugs on his arm, and he nearly trips into the other.
“AH—s-sorry...”
At the very least, he feels more awake now. He shakes his head as the other gazes upon him with a bemused look, then whirls around and proceeds to begin dragging him out of the building, talking all the while.
Shulk is indignant. “I have an eevee. A dragonair would be more to my tastes as well. Or a lapras. Or—” Anything, honestly, other than another pidgey. With any luck, the pond would have something interesting—though his was famously rather bad.
They’re moving down the stairwell now—someone propped the door open at the bottom (against the rules) and a breeze drifts upward through the echoing tower. He admits to himself that he is looking forward to this, exhausted as he is, and can’t suppress a smile at the enthusiasm of his companion. Alvis has a gentle but firm grip on his arm, steadying Shulk as he picks his way down the stairs. He tries not to think about it too hard.
He pauses at the mention of teams. “I won’t tell you how long it took me to pick, but in the end I went with Instinct... and yourself?”
