She was told, so many times already, that possibly the best way to experience the true Galarian life was close to the countryside. It shouldn’t be that different from Johto, right?
Oh, she was so wrong already. Although her parents lived in Galar when they were younger, it rarely meant that they taught her the language. Only a couple of words just in case could work in the city, and the rest was merely self-teaching.
But again, the best way to learn was being in the real place. A small town surrounded by greenery, far from the haste of Motostoke, full of touristic sights to visit– and perhaps one of the best locations to enjoy locally brewed beer and stronger things. Yet the language barrier was still there; she doesn’t get them wrong, they’re very friendly, but they speak fast, shorten some words, and their indications are a bit vague…
Still, Mel found a place -quite crowded, considering the time and day of the week- and decided to take a stool on the bar, where she could easily ask about the local recommendations from the bartender or the best places to see and photograph– perhaps they’d be used to tourists, she thought, sipping slowly the cold beer and trying to listen carefully under all the noise and chatter around…
Until the gaze of the bar owner moved from her to whoever that was behind her shoulder.
Bright orange messy hair immediately caught her attention, freckles covering slightly red cheeks, and a friendly smile she remembered already from somewhere…
Yet she couldn’t understand very well what he was saying.
An awkward smile was a first reply, followed by her gaze moving from the man to the bartender, waiting for them to translate– except that he was gone attending other clients.
She immediately looked back, embarrassed and anxious -and perhaps a little bit tipsy-, looking for an answer that couldn’t sound too harsh or too cold, compared to how everyone behaves there.
And so she bowed at him as she would do back home, not once but three times before staying silent again, and still trying to grasp his words.
❝I-… am a tourist, indeed.❞ her lips muttered in an apparent inaudible volume that was quickly corrected by herself, ending up in a loud chat. ❝I’m not from here! A tourist, indeed! Am I really that noticeable…?! Are you some sort of touristic guide, sir?!❞
Mel had to shut herself up with a long sip right after saying that so loud that everyone went quiet in a second…
The bowing, indeed, caught him off guard. He almost let the insistence that that wasn’t necessary roll off his tongue, but managed to hold it. Bowing was something more common in Kanto and Johto and even Hoenn, if his memory didn’t fail him? Maybe she was from one of those places? Even still, three bows felt a tad bit excessive...
Then, her words. First, soft, like a small chirp of a Pidgey, before elevating to a loud, nigh startled squawk. Milo laughed - the sound far from malicious and teetered more on awkward than anything - and bobbed his head in a small bow before gingerly assuming the bar stool beside her. Hopefully the minuscule bow on his part would be seen as reciprocating instead of... anything offensive.
“Touristic guide? No, uh, not really. I just... I’m the Gym Leader here, so I know Turffield and its citizens very well. Hadn’t seen you ‘round these parts so I figured to come up and...” And what, Milo? Apologise for something that she may not even recall? Don’t draw attention to yourself. “... introduce myself. The name’s Milo! And you are?”