Unlike Harley, Marshal has very little interest in paying attention to the other man. His brain remains in a fog, only occasionally surfacing to remind himself that someone was there, and he should be trying to be polite. But like everything else, it passes back into the haze, leaving only a lingering sense of guilt behind.
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Harley continues to sip his own tea, occasionally casting discreet glances at Marshal. At the very least, the drink seems to revitalize something, for the first time since they met, the other looks less like a dried up Magikarp and more like... a slightly hydrated Magikarp. He hides a grin when Marshal nibbles on a muffin, quietly pleased.
He grabs a chocolate muffin to munch for himself, getting through half of it before Marshal speaks up. Harley hides the mild surprise in his expression by taking another large bite. Alder’s tea really brings wonders, huh? Honestly, he expected that they’d be sitting in slightly awkward silence until their host’s return, but this is definitely a pleasant surprise.
Harley chases his muffin with a few more sips of tea, licking off the crumbs from his fingertips before answering. “Well... guess you could say that it had been an unexpected encounter.” A brief pause as he considered on what he should reveal. He’s not comfortable enough to share the grittier parts but he thinks it’ll help to open up a little.
“I used to be a part of a bad crowd. Like, back alley bad crowd. I was a stupid kid drunk on freedom who did a lot of stupid stuff that I’m not proud of. All I was thinking was myself, and it took one hell of a scare to finally snap me to my senses.” He swirls the cup, staring at his reflection. “This is not what I want to be doing for the rest of my life, I realized so I left after a few bumps and hurdles.”
Harley closes his eyes, gives a little chuckle. “Just cause I left, didn’t mean I know where I was going. Being a street brat was all that I knew how to do. What am I supposed to do with my life? Then Alder came into my life. Like, literally appeared before me cause he jumped off of a cliff. God, I tried to kick him in surprise but those abs felt like I kicked concrete.
Instead of being offended that I tried to attack him, he offered this scruffy kid a cup of tea and listened to my story. Told me I had potential to do a lot of good, and to discover what I actually want to do in life. He supported me when I decided I want to become a teacher, even if I still acted like a distrustful, stuck up kid for years after. His kindness and patience finally won me over, so I owe him more than I can pay in this lifetime. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”
He ends his tale with a wide smile, then sips the rest of his tea. “Sorry that it trailed on like that. So, what about you? How did you meet Alder?”
Spark was hanging out in Unova for research—setting up a small Instinct base in the region, getting hands-on experience with the pokemon in their natural habitats… even just getting to explore the region where he was born and where his sister resides. He was loving his time there so far, and Castelia City was no exception. The bustling seaside town reminded him of Goldenrod back in Johto… though Castelia was certainly far bigger ( it seemed that was the case for everything in Unova, though ).
He was strolling through the park with Spark II when the Ampharos stopped, turning around and walking towards a bench.
“ Hey, Junior. What’d you find——. ” And it was a pokemon, hiding. He knelt down beside the bench, head tilted to the side. “ Hey… what are you doing down here, little buddy? ” Spark questioned, reaching a hand under to pet her, before turning his head to his Ampharos. “ Nice catch, Junior. ”
Junior, too, bent down to look, and copied after Spark, sticking his hand under the bench, too. ‘ Hi! I’m Spark. He’s also Spark. We’re both Spark. Are you okay? ’
Blossom remains quietly shaking, trying not to cry. She opens her eyes and lifts her head slightly at the voice that greets her. It’s a stranger, someone that’s not Dad. He tries to pet her, and unfortunately, with the tight space, she’s not able to duck away from it. She tenses at his touch, keeping herself still. If she’s lucky, the man would leave her alone.
But then a Pokemon joined him. Blossom recognizes him as an Ampharos, an Electric-type that she sees sometimes from Dad’s battles. She eyes their hands, listens to their voices. Blossom is a little wary, cause who knows if they’re being genuine or not. She’s been tricked once many years ago, which led to darkness and pain until First Dad saved her. What if they wanted to do the same to her?
Though, the longer she stared at them, Blossom thinks that they didn’t seem too bad. If they’re really nice, they might be able to help her find Dad. If they ended up being bad guys... Blossom knows what moves to use to get away. She considers the pros and cons until finally, she wiggles her way out of the bench. A little head shake, then she looks up at the tall man.
“Bay...” She utters softly, looking at him with big doe eyes. Blossom just wants to return to her Dad. Can they help her, maybe?
“Me? A princess? Only if I could be a warrior princess, you know? Like the ones who wear super kick ass armor and defend their kingdoms against viking. That would be so cool,” Rui smirked. Sal slid her drink across the bar before actually handing Harley his. The bar had returned back to normal now, the small swarm of people had dispersed and left the duo to themselves. She smiled affectionately at the crowd, turning back to Harley.
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Of course. She’d never fit the dainty princess theme that saturates the media like it’s going out of style. He personally thinks they need to show more strong princesses, so if Rui ever did star in a show where she’s a warrior princess that defends the kingdom from vikings, he’ll be watching it. Harley merely grins at her, then at Sal when he slides him his whiskey. He tips his head in thanks, gives the drink a little swirl before he takes a sip.
Mmm... that just slap his tongue across his face. Nice.
Harley nurses his drink as Rui goes into another tale, this time on how she got to know the proprietor of the bar. “Sounds like a real nice community. I can appreciate that,” he says, taking another sip. “Wish I’d been there, if only to kick some ass. Smugglers are a real piece of work, I tell ya.” He remembers of back alleys where deals are being made and cages draped with raggedy cloths kept the contents hidden from view. Even back then, he knows what was in there.
He places down his glass, rests his chin atop his hand. “Well... a couple of months? Wes was... busy at the time. Too many things to handle so he didn’t get to show me to a lot of places.” As in, he was too busy trying not to die by his injuries whilst Harley procured everything that he needed to make sure he survived through to the night. He briefly shakes his head to get ride of those awful memories.
“But... I got you to show me around. I don’t think he’d be the sort to show me what’s really hidden in Orre’s nightlife.” The way Rui describes it, he can guess what it’s like. Truthfully, he’d rather they just stay in the light when they get into trouble. Harley barks out a laugh at her wish, taking another sip of his whiskey. “Be careful what you wish for, princess. I’m a magnet for trouble, regardless of what I do or where I am.”
He closes his eyes. “Once went on a midnight doughnut run. Ended up almost getting mugged by some idiots who thought I was an easy target. They got a nice beat down and time in the clink for their troubles.” Harley heaves out dramatically. “And I just wanted some doughnuts, damn it. Was it too much to ask, that time?”
His melancholy might have been more believable, had it not been the grin stretching his lips. “Still... I guess if it’s not too crazy or dangerous, I’d be down for it. Nothing that’ll get Wes wringing our necks for worrying him, eh? He’d never let me hang out with you again.” That ended in a little whine, but he’s mostly teasing. Wes isn’t that sort of person. Maybe.
Charon nearly jumped out of her shoes when she heard Harley sneakin’ up behind her as chalk also dropped to the ground. She definitely wasn’t about to vandalize school property just now.
“H-hello!” she whipped her head around to greet the stranger behind her before meeting an incredibly familiar face. Something about that giant hair, lax eyes and smirk seemed eerily reminiscent. It was honestly giving her deja vu, especially since apparently he knew her too.
It took her a couple of seconds of looking back between him and the name label on the box while digging in the crevices of her old grandma brain before she finally figured out what two plus two was.
“Harley?! Harley Jackson? Harley!!????” Charon kept saying his name like it was going out of fashion, but seeing an old friend was almost as rare as finding a shiny, and he was a welcome in her life any day. “I can’t believe it! Out of all places, I didn’t think I’d find you in a school.” Granted, she probably should’ve figured it out by the name on the box label and the fact she partially remembered a Harley that wanted to become a teacher, but that didn’t matter right now; The most important thing was that she had his plant and that she wasn’t going to get fired.
“Honestly, I thought I would’ve ended up living in the mountains like that one Red guy.” she shrugged, “Buuuuut… Delivering plants and whatever is a little better, I guess. Especially since it let me see your mopey face again.” Charon snickered, remembering all the times he would come to her with college or friend problems.
“Before I forget, could you sign this?” she handed him the clipboard, barely able to holding her laughter, “So honored to do business with you, Mr. Jackson.”
She stares at him with not a lick of recognition in them. Was he that forgettable? He’s about to make a quip about it, before her eyes widened comically. Harley’s grin stretches as he idly checks his nails. “Yeah. I was about to be very sad if you hadn’t remember me. Ooh, my poor heart wouldn’t have take it,” he replies in a mock hurt tone. It might have been somewhat believable, but the cheeky light in his eyes dismisses any sort of credibility.
Still, it’s refreshing to see an old face, especially one that he genuinely liked seeing again. There are some people that he didn’t want to meet again in this lifetime, but Charon? She’s cool. “Honestly, you’d think that with me telling you, multiple times by the way, on what I was aiming with my studies back then, it’d be more surprising if I wasn’t in school.”
He doesn’t take any offense with her words, and to indulge her, he made that same pouty face that she’d seen him do various times back then. “Well then, it seems that only my mopey face was recognizable, huh?” Harley smiles once again, posture languid like a relaxed feline. He does leaned forward, taking out the tactical pen from his breast pocket to sign the clipboard.
“Yes, yes. Pleasure doing business with you too, Miss Charon. Or Mrs.” He makes a face, trying to stifle his grin. “You didn’t get married yet, did you? If you had, I’d really be hurt that you didn’t invite me to it. I would’ve given a swell speech on how I met you and the stuff that we did back.” Going to college parties, bickering over the single use computer in the library... ah, those were some of his fonder memories.
He eyes her for a moment, resting a hand on his hip. “Still, you done for the day?” He wears an ear splitting grin. “I’m finished with work too so... wanna head to a good bar that I know to catch up? First round of drinks are on me.”
He hovers over the rim of the can for just a second longer, snot and saliva dripping down into the trashbag. His eyes are burning. His lungs constrict and ache and itch. If not for the presence of the officers just beyond the door, Riley might spend another minute hacking up whatever else still sits in his stomach.
Harley’s words just barely reach him. What did you see?
“Horrible,” he rasps. “Can’t –“ And then his voice is a low whine. “Harley, you…”
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Harley admits he feels a little unnerved at the panicked, almost haunted look in Riley’s eyes when he turns back to him. He looks pale and shaky, though he’s not sure if it’s from his episode or from... whatever he saw. It slowly dawns on him that he’s unsure if he wants to know the answer. Riley’s single reply makes him tense and he nurses his bottom.
Horrible? What’s... so horrible in his heart?
Riley looks like he wants to continue but catches on his breath. Harley can’t help but worry. Riley sported the image of a scared man that’s teetering on the edge of hyperventilating. Was his heart filled with so much... darkness that it made him physically ill? Harley thought that he was making strides in bettering himself but... maybe it was just never enough.
Before he could spiral down that rabbit hole, Riley speaks up, words choppy. It doesn’t make much sense to him. He stole but he was innocent? How did that work? The cops had evidence on him, and while his memory was fuzzy, it didn’t change the fact that he was caught on camera and his prints were all over the stolen goods.
“What are you--?”
Still, Riley plows on, actually referring him as a friend and-- and how fucking dare him to bring his hopes up about helping him. Harley prepares to argue back, but then Riley rushes himself out of the room, leaving a mess of anger and confusion. Harley doesn’t know what to think, let alone believe. Can he really trust the man that had captured him?
(He was doing his job, but it still stings, knowing he could be sent to prison because he’s a criminal and Riley’s some sort of cop).
Harley leans back in the uncomfortable chair, trying to huddle into his dampened hoodie, shivering slightly from the chill. He can’t bring himself to one hundred percent believe in Riley’s words, but it’s not like he has anything left to lose. The complicated emotions... he’ll deal with that later.
Just keep quiet, huh? His gaze flickers to the door. The officers that tried to yank a confession out of him returns, but they looked hesitant. Harley hides a sardonic smile, and sits up straighter.
They’ve been together for quite some time now. The exact date is fuzzy, but only because he feels like it doesn’t quite measure up to this feeling of wonder that he gets everyday. Harley still can’t believe that he’s with this wonderful person– that he can call Wes his boyfriend and feel stupidly giddy about it. They take things slow, to learn each other’s boundaries, know what they like and dislike. That’s more than fine with him.
Harley knows that Wes has went through a lot, so he’ll do anything that he can to make him feel comfortable. He only ever gently initiates things, backing off if it’s not well accepted with a soft apology. It’s all about consent in this relationship. Harley will never force Wes to do anything that he’s not comfortable with. They might fall behind on how ‘traditional’ couples would act, but that’s fine. So long as he gets to be together with Wes, he’ll be content with anything.
That being said, it does throw him for a bit of a loop when one day, after a lazy lie in bed, Wes invites him to take a shower together. Harley blinks, needing a second to process that.
Now, while it involves them seeing each other naked, it’s not an inherently sexy action. Harley learnt that it’s always better to see things neutrally and not fall for typical expectations. And that proves to be the right course of action, when Wes follows up with a mention of how his nest of a hair could use a good wash.
Harley lays back down, sighing with a small smile. Right. They’re just taking a shower together. That’s it.
Roughly half an hour later, they found themselves in his shower. It’s not cramped, but it’s not like he’s ever shared it with another person before. It was… surprisingly easy to see Wes in an undressed state, though he can’t help but notice the collection of faded scars littering his body. Harley doesn’t stare at it for long, nor does he comment about it. There’s a story behind them, and it’s already a huge show of trust that Wes even allows him to see them at all. He’s not going to betray it.
He too sports his own collection of scars. A few slices here, a bullet wound there– both of them were not physically unmarred, so he hopes that it can be considered as his own show of trust. Not a lot of people sees what he hides underneath suits and Pokemon themed hoodies, after all.
Harley faces the shower while Wes has his back to it, and he turns on the water. The initial stream was cold – enough to elicit a noise of surprise from Wes, to which he apologized for – before it reaches a comfortably warm temperature. His usual showers were often in extremes; icily cold or searingly hot, so this was a nice change of pace.
The water trickles down his skin from the curve of his neck all the way down to the length of his legs. Harley sighs, enjoying that uniquely calm lull that only comes from being in the shower. It’s only when he feels a touch on his arm that he remembers. Right, he’s not the only one in here. He changes the setting on the nozzle so that both of them could feel the spray of water.
Eventually, his hair sticks to the side of his face, and he has to swipe back the bangs that covers his eyes. He sees Wes eyeing his hair, a look of contemplation even under the stream.
“Have you been washing it properly?”
“Of course,” he replies, a little grin to his lips. “You’d think you’d wanna cuddle together with stinky hair?”
“True.” A beat of silence. “Do you want me to wash it for you?”
Harley swears his throat got a little dry at that, but he doesn’t let the shock settle in for long. Mustering up the same grin, he gestures at his basket of products. There’s a citrus scented shower gel, a bottle of shampoo and hair conditioner, among others. “Have at it.”
He goes to turn off the shower, then leans down a little so Wes can slather his hair with the shampoo. Really, it’s far from the first time that he shampooed the thing, but never has anyone wash his hair before.
It’s similar to the time when he petted his hair, but it’s an entirely different sensation. Wes digs his fingers into his scalp with the intent of thoroughly washing every strand of hair. A circular motion, then his thumb slides back before his fingers grips in. Harley can’t stop the shiver that trails down his neck at the sensation, but he remains silent.
He thinks that, up to this point, this is one of the most intimate things he had ever experienced. It’s nothing hot or heavy, far from the realm of intimacy that his exes would think of. It’s just his partner washing his hair, and damn it, it feels really good.
His eyes remains shut throughout it all, but the lack of sight is more than made up from how deeply he can feel the fingers that dips behind his ears. Harley doesn’t know how long it’s been, until the the jet of water mats his hair down once more. The suds were slowly wash away, no doubt the different angles was from Wes manually handling the hand shower.
Harley gets to open his eyes after everything has been washed off. Wes was smiling a little at him, perhaps pleased with his work. He wants to kiss him at that moment, but refrains.
There’ll be plenty of chances after they’re not at risk of slipping and cracking their heads open. Not a romantic moment, he reckons.
They continue their shower in silence until it’s time to head out. Harley steps out first, hands Wes the extra towel before he goes to dry himself up. Once sufficiently dried, he wraps it around his waist, then went to the sink to brush his teeth. After a gargle of mouthwash and a nice floss later, he steps out of the bathroom.
Harley goes to put on his slacks first but before he can grab his shirt, Wes calls out to him.
“Hmm… now that I look at it, your hair has gotten pretty long,” he comments. Harley shakes his head from side to side. Hmm… it does feel a little long. His bangs has completely covered up his ears and it’s gotten a little past his neck at the back.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Been awhile since I went to a barber.” Harley looks at his boyfriend, grinning. “Can you cut my hair for me?”
Wes hums in reply. “You’d trust me with a pair of scissors to your hair?”
He laughs at that. “Of course. You won’t give me a bad haircut… would you?”
A snort. “I could just give you a bowl cut without you realizing.” But he asks where he keeps his scissors and comb anyway.
For the second time that day, Harley ducks his head to give access. He’s sitting on a chair on the deck in the backyard – thankfully, it was a warm day – with an old tablecloth tied around his neck. It feels like he’s in the barber shop, though it’s never this nice and pleasant.
Wes’ fingers this time are gentler but no less firm. He could hear the snipping noises, feel the bits of hair that falls by his side. With his hair still damp, it’s easy for the comb to run through and straighten it out. Harley finds his eyes sliding shut once more, merely listening to the sounds and relishing the touches. At some point, Wes broke out the hairdryer, blowing streams of hot air around his neck and hair. And then he was done.
A small hand mirror was handed to him. “I took the liberty of giving you an undercut. I think the style looks good on you.”
Harley examines his reflection. His hair is a little shorter but still has volume. The area around his ears were thinned out, making the poofier parts stand out even more. Like before, he gives his head a little shake, watching how his hair shifts with this new hairdo.
“Well, do you like it?” Wes asks after he puts down the hand mirror.
Instead of answering, he twists in his seat, rising just a little to give him a kiss on the lips. Noses brushing, Wes can probably feel the smile he wears at the second peck.
“I love it,” Harley replies, then goes in for a third kiss. “And I love you.”
Curtis listened along very respectfully, nodding as Harley spoke, and as he did, it sort of answered Curtis’s question that he had to begin with. So the man was able to pick out Powder’s coloration because he’s an expert on Pokemon care; it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to assume the man would know about different Pokemon variations as well, such as coloring.
Curtis looked to his soup, which was now gone faster than he was full, but he immediately decided mentally that he wouldn’t ask for more. After all, he must have been bothering the man enough just by being there.
Still, as Harley spoke, Curtis’s mind continued to gravitate towards his initial observation of Powder, and that coloring. With a bite of his lip, and against his better judgment, he decided to ask about it anyway. “So… you knew Powder was shiny because of your specialty, right? In your teaching. And you’d know all about… um… the other stuff involving what happens with… shinies… cuz of that too?” He didn’t mean for it to come across like he was asking; frankly, he didn’t want to be proven wrong. He just wanted to nicely assume the man was nothing more than a plain school teacher. Nothing more.
Nothing more.
“Does that mean shiny Pokemon have different dietary habits too? Or is it all the same as their species?”
Harley finishes off the rest of his gyoza, chasing it with a few more sips of tea. He nibbles on the stray bits of noodles in his bowl before he orders for an extra order of them to finish off the leftover broth. As he waits for it, he turns back to Curtis, listening to his question. “Yeah. While I might not have encountered a lot of shinies, one of the things I had to cram in my head was the image of all the Pokemon that was discovered. It’s slight, but I can spot the difference in color.”
He pauses, considering his answer to his other question. “Well... let’s just say I’ve been on that end before. People can be... cruel, and if they think a Pokemon is rare or valuable, they’ll do anything to get their hands on it. Shiny Pokemon are no exception. It’s the concept of rarity that makes them more... prized, as opposed to a regular Pokemon.” Harley hopes that’s enough of an explanation, cause he’s not too keen on delving deeper in this topic.
The teacher briefly pulls away from the conversation when his extra noodles arrived. He added it in, then slurps up the new batch before he answers. “For the most part, their dietary habits should remain the same. We still don’t have much answers on as to why some Pokemon could become ‘shiny’, but it’s said that it’s just a different coloration. Pigments and all that. It shouldn’t effect their overall biological functions.”
Harley finishes about half of his noodles, then sips some more tea. “For your Phanpy, you can give him the regular Poke chow you’d find in stores. If you want to supplement it, you can add in crushed berries and even tree bark, if you like.” He grins at that. “Sounds surprising, but it contains calcium and roughage, which aids in digestion. That’s mostly for Phanpy in the wild, but I think that domesticated Phanpy should still enjoy it. Of course, different Pokemon have different palates, so it’s best to experiment with small portions, if you want to try it out.”
🤛🏼 (of course Harley knows how to throw a punch but how about a Professional Boxing Technique(tm))
Soft intimacy meme (Accepting!)
Now, he likes to think that he knows how to throw a punch. These knuckles, scarred and rough as they are, is the proof that he’d been using them for a long time. Harley knows better than to punch with his thumb tucked in, or to throw a punch to the forehead. Fingers consists of hollow bones, whereas the forehead layers over a thick skull. Guess which one’s caving in the event of a straight hook there.
But, his punch is build up from years worth of experience. It’s self taught, used better in a street brawl than any professional setting. So, when Marshal offered to show him how to throw a boxer’s punch, well, he’s very much interested. He stands by the side and watches as the other gets into his stance. A beat of silence, before he swears he hears the air crack from the force of the punch. Harley whistles low, supremely impressed.
“Well hot damn, that can easily KO someone,” he comments, bounding over with a childlike grin on his lips. “Can you teach me how to do that?” Having a variety of punches in his arsenal is always a good investment, in his book. He might not have Marshal’s muscles, but he knows how to coil in before striking. If he can apply that to a boxer’s punch… well, his future enemies better watch out.
Alder greets the dawn of this new day with extra enthusiasm, he’s going to lunch with his beloved son Harley! It’s been nearly a month since their last get-together and he misses him terribly. Even though they talk regularly via cell phone it’s not the same. Alder always prefers to talk with people in-person, a phone can’t replace that level of personal connection. And it’s not because he’s inept at using his phone, he’s actually pretty good at it. He even knows how to use emojis.
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Harley checks his clock. Still a bit early before their promised meeting. He rocks back and forth on his heel, eyes making sweeps of his surroundings. Maybe he could spot dad’s iconic red hair. The man himself might be a little short, but that plume more than made up for it. He waits for another ten minutes before he notices that it’s about time for him to pick up his Pokemon. It is a bit chilly, so he takes refuge indoors, heading straight to the counter.
The teacher casually leans on it, flashing Nurse Joy a smile when their eyes briefly locked. She returns it, then greets the person in line. Doesn’t look like there’s anyone else helping her, except for an Audino that he saw wheeling a metal cart into the back room earlier. It’s no wonder that it’s taking a bit longer than he had expected. Regardless, it doesn’t inconvenience him, so he waits patiently-- until he feels a hand land on his shoulder.
Harley jumps a little, feeling a bit embarrassed when he sees that it’s just dad. Still, that doesn’t stop him from moving into a brief hug, lips pulled into a wide smile. “Hey dad, it’s really nice to see you again,” he greets after he pulled back, one hand lightly gripping Alder’s forearm. Harley takes a moment to just drink the sight of that familiar hair and the crow marks that crinkle around the edges of his eyes when he smiles.
“I can’t wait to show you to this restaurant. It really helped give college me something to look forward to when I felt like splurging.” He casts a glance where his Pokemon was probably being healed in. “They should be healed soon. It’s more of a check up than an actual heal.” The lights overhead flickered for a moment, briefly enough to have his gaze flicker to the ceiling but not important enough to make him curious.
“I think you’ve never met them before,” he continues, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “They were Pokemon that I adopted from Wes named Aria and Fortune. Aria’s a pretty chill Swablu that I think would love nothing more than to perch in your hear.” A chuckle from that mental image. “And Fortune-- well, she might take some time to warm up to you. She’s not as open as her partner. And she’s an Absol too, so--”
The lights abruptly died on them, cutting him off. A few people screamed, and that’s the only warning that they had before an explosion rocked the Pokemon Center-- mostly from the room behind the counter. But no one knew that, for they’re still blinded by the darkness. They only heard the explosion, and did what most people would do in the event of an unknown danger.
Harley felt himself being pushed to the side when the visitors stampeded to the front door amidst Nurse Joy’s cries of “Please, calm down everyone!”
He keeps a tight grip on the counter, looking around. “Dad! Are you alright?”
[secret santa] The gift consists of a variety of objects, as though the gifter could not quite make up their mind, but wanted to cover their bases. Two books: the latest editions of both 'The Unique Evolutionary Biology of Unovan Pokémon' and 'Incredible Pokémon and Where To Find Them'. A fine-tipped pen, suitable for both writing and drawing. A pair of striped, woollen mittens. All are carefully wrapped in a single package, in obligatorily festive paper, fold lines crisp and deliberate.
When Harley receives the package, he can’t help but admire the simplicity of the packaging. It wasn’t anything too gaudy or crazy, and it was wrapped neatly, with nothing out of place or jutting out. This made him carefully unwrap it, for he feels barbaric if he just tore this neat packaging.
Upon lifting the lid, his eyebrows disappeared in his hairline. Harley picks up the books first, eyeing the titles in quiet wonder. Oh wow, these are... really good books. He’s more interested in the first one, cause he didn’t have this volume yet. It definitely tickled his interest to just sit down and devour each page, but he’ll set that aside for a nice quiet evening. The other book is neat too. At least he’ll get to see the possibilities of what Pokemon would appear in different places.
Putting that down, he lifted the other gifts. A fine tipped pen -- to which he inserted into his coat pocket -- and a pair of striped woolly mittens. A smile graced his lips. Whoever his Secret Santa was, they really went all out huh?
prguitarman
jacobvanloon
annaxmalina
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
origamiaround
