He wonders about the laugh and what merits it holds. He wants to question it, of course, but he can only tilt his head before the moment passes and Fontaine leads him further into his home. He’s instantly curious, wanting to explore and see the man’s art for the first time. He must have a few pieces to showcase off in his house! But first Fontaine asks what drink he wants and Mathew can’t honestly answer to save his life. He’s never been a big drinker and as such knows nothing of alcohol. It’s naive of him to take even a small glass from Fontaine as he doesn’t know its content and proof; he only knows it smells very strong and it burns going down though it is sweet, tasty.
He finds the man yet more interesting for he takes no interest in Fontaine’s room but instead is utterly drawn to his work. He assumes that it is the most private of spaces that would allow people a glimpse into his personal life, one that he’s willing to share with very few. To unconsciously refute the invitation; he would be furious would it be any other but Mathew...he’s seen the man, can make guesses into his life and realises that it is worth investing in him by taking him to see his work and not pushing him onto the bed and making quick work of him.
So he smiles, drains his wine and settles the cup on the sink beside his visitor’s. Allez, he beckons, gently holding Mathew’s hand. It is soft and supple, and the skin’s surface betrays on what looks like to Fontaine to be a youthful man. He leads Mathew past the personal paintings and down to the main gallery.
This one, he begins, pointing to a portrait of a happy Ampharos, was my first commission, way back when I was starting out. This rich old dame had a lovely Ampharos, one that refused to sit still during the painting so I had paint her on the move as I tempted her with treats to get her to pose and remain still.
He chuckles.
He explains the rest of the paintings in the main gallery, each with their own story, mostly similar in nature - rich person wants pet or companion painted, commissions Fontaine to draw, Fontaine draws, gets money, keeps a printed copy of the painting. He tells Mathew that the originals reside all around the region and even the world.
Then, he heads back upstairs, where the more private paintings are held.
These...he starts, nearly falling back as he eyes the portrait of the family in the centre. That...is my family, he indicates each with a finger - my mother, Diane, who is still living on the family estate in the countryside; my father, he hisses here, deceased, his name was Absolon, just like the Pokémon; and here he smiles most fondly and touches the painting, my sister, Floraine, she's the singer I told you about earlier.
Now that you’ve seen everything, Mathew...what next?
He wonders about the laugh and what merits it holds. He wants to question it, of course, but he can only tilt his head before the moment passes and Fontaine leads him further into his home. He’s instantly curious, wanting to explore and see the man’s art for the first time. He must have a few pieces to showcase off in his house! But first Fontaine asks what drink he wants and Mathew can’t honestly answer to save his life. He’s never been a big drinker and as such knows nothing of alcohol. It’s naive of him to take even a small glass from Fontaine as he doesn’t know its content and proof; he only knows it smells very strong and it burns going down though it is sweet, tasty.
The paintings, though of great effort and skill, have become things that he views every single day and he notices them less and less as he passes. When Mathew sings praises of his work, he smiles and moves on; it’s nothing special, he thinks. Being in the industry for too long does that to you. He used to toot his own horn ages ago but another young man taught him that if one’s horn were too loud, one would draw the wrong kind of attention.
It took several years to bounce back from that robbery.
His cheeks flush a cherry red at the compliment and he stutters out a thank you to the scientist. Absolutely, I will come with you, comes his response as he leads Mathew by the hand to the lower floor, where the main gallery was. He begins a short explanation of each piece, detailing their origins and mediums. Most of them were paintings done in the style of realism and depicted not only Pokemon subjects, but many humans as well. They were mostly unaware as the artist painted them, their faces turned keenly and facing their partners with rapt attention.
It is on the floor above that he does linger longer, for sentiment hung over the air like a full raincloud, ready to spring some fresh showers on unsuspecting passer-by. Here, he spends more time explaining to Mathew the same qualities of the works below but the similarities end there. It is one painting in particular, of a young blond boy and his equally blond parents and sister, that catches him every time.
The young boy is seated on his mother’s lap and his face is one of full joy as his elated mother smiles for the camera. The boy’s sister is standing in front of her father and she looks a little bit miffed in a lovely cornflower blue gown, and Fontaine knows the reason why - she hated dresses. The father is smiling, but his eyes seem cold and distant.
I, he begins, painted this from an old photograph. I still have it with me. Somewhere. I don’t know. I wish I did. He lets the word linger in the air for many moments more as he lights another cigarette and smokes it, hoping the fumes would be an excuse for his eyes to water. He hopes Mathew doesn’t leave him, not now, when he is at his weakest. Please, he begs, stay.
He’s quite certain Mathew can infer who these people are but not their names: Absolon. Diane. Fontaine. Floraine. They will always haunt him, especially the first.
He thinks the man interesting, not least in the way his accent draws out the Kalosian’s name. Yes, I do live here. Event? How odd. To describe the funeral the way he had, Fontaine wonders just exactly what he’s landed himself into. As though it were something that had drinks (they did), music (they did) and over-emotional people (wait what?). He could certainly chalk this down to a bizarre experience unlike any other.
What about you? he questions Piotr, curious as to the man’s rather odd demeanor and he’s certain that he’d get an equally odd answer. As their food arrives, Fontaine digs into his meal and all the while, his eyes never leave the sight of the purple-haired man, whose meal is barely enough to keep someone of his stature going through the day.
Well, do you want more? That doesn’t look like much, he quips, indicating to the small meal that Piotr has in front of him. He looks across the table and a small, sad smile crosses his face. They used to eat just like this man…small meals at every interval. He slides some money across the table, just enough for a larger meal. Please, eat more, he implores of the man.
Fontaine finally averts his gaze and shifts it instead to his sandwich, which he nibbles at. It’s good, but he wants to prolong their time here so that he may get more of a response out of Piotr, whom apart from a few short sentences, did not say much else. Perhaps the question he had just asked would elicit a much longer answer.
“I-I mean if you want to. I wouldn’t recommend using her in battle because she’s wary of it, but she’s very loving and will keep you in good company.” He laughs a little, knowing full well of her capabilities to sooth and comfort at night when he’s alone and he will sorely miss it as he does with the company of any of the rescues he finds homes for. They’re always so special, each and every one of them but he simply can’t keep them all.
I would love to, Mathew, he responds, at last. Having the Skitty only reminds him to the company he’s had today and whilst that warmth still encircles him, he knows it will stay on further once Mathew has gone back to Kanto. His offer makes the man smile and he simply pats the shoulder of the scientist.
At his home, he soon finds Mathew eyeing him, trying in desperation not to stare. A warm, hearty laugh escapes him and he hopes it is simply ignored by the other. Merci, he replies in turn, would you like a brief tour? When asked of his choice of drink, Mathew simply responds, quite naively, Fontaine might add. Ah, then perhaps a small glass of this? as he produces some fine Kalosian wine, and pours for two. Come, I’ll show you the rest of my home.
Leading Mathew first past the archway into the gallery, he lets the man feast his eyes on the works that he’s done before. And this, he begins, angling a finger towards the centerpiece, is my pride and joy, worked off an ancient painting of the mighty Legendary, Rayquaza. The dragon-like creature swirls in the sky that is painted and it seems almost lifelike, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
Now, we head upstairs. More paintings are found adorning the mezzanine level but none too stunning as the ones found below. Here, more personal works are to be found but he says naught of their origins to Mathew. Once done, he sweeps into his room and beckons Mathew to follow.
I live here, if that wasn’t obvious enough. The room is filled with the scent of incense burning, an aromatic medley drawn from the western shores of Kalos. The lights are dim but even in such low light conditions, one can see a plush four-poster with curtains made of the finest silks dangling from them. The bed itself is neatly made, and consists of two pillows and a large, downy comforter.
Here is the kitchen, he adds, moving to the next room attached. It is a simple space, but is filled with oddities and knick-knacks from his travels abroad. If you’re done with your drink, just leave the glass in the sink here, he indicates to the sink and then sits by the counter, watching the sundown. You’re free to move around. I’ll be here if you need me.
Elise had made her way to the gallery, wanting to finally get something commissioned for her apartment. It was about time for her meeting with a very talented and famous artist she had heard about through one of her more…extravagant costars. She had dismissed it at first, not really knowing what she wanted anyway. But then she had an idea…Alex.
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He eyes the money, slips it between his fingers and then into his burgeoning wallet. Merci, this is just right. (He counts the money again. Chuckles. What rich person is ever unhappy?) Ah, Fontaine’s esteemed opinion! A Luxray? Anything can be done for the right price, he coos. And the price is just right. Come in, I’ll serve you tea and you can show me my esteemed model.
Also, he whips around in a little sashay, what’s a little talk from the public? I’m just joking though. He understands completely the unwanted attention that people, celebrities included, get. Come, as he sweeps in, and he has Lisa guide her into the entryway, where a single ornate table has a spread of hot tea for two.
My finest. This is a rare blend of Oolong. Brought in all the way from Ransei. Fontaine fingers the cup and takes a sip. Perfection. You can show me the Luxray at any time. Lisa had since vanished into the living quarters upstairs, leaving her master downstairs with his client.
The room is brightly lit. The AC is running. Fontaine softens his gaze when he spots his first painting hanging on a wall. A painting of Lisa as a Snivy. Yes, he would paint her Luxray in the same style. The very same.
“I’ll find her a good home, it’s just going to be sad parting ways with her after so long. It always is.” He admits carefully. He has no idea he’s about moved the man to tears as he’s busy watching the Pokemon eat her fish as if she’s never eaten before. “You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a feline Pokemon, would you?” He finally looks back towards him and meets him with a smile. He’d feel better knowing she was with someone who was going to treat her like a queen. Someone who might be a little forward but holds good intention. That’s what he believes he sees in the man, anyway.
It always is... he murmurs in assent. Ah, he begins, would you really? Fontaine eyes the Skitty with a warm smile; shakes his head when Lisa rears. Certainly, his full team would stay with him, but this Skitty… to ignore the pleading eyes of the cat-like Pokemon is abhorrent, to say the least. He would, if in so received the Skitty, keep her as a house pet. The creature would dine and sleep finely, on the most sumptuous of fish and silkiest of beds.
What comes next surprises him; after all he’d said and done, this man was still willing and welcoming? He chuckles at what he hears before replying, Merci. I would love to exhibit there, it has been a while since I’ve been to Kanto. As to your offer of staying at your home, I would love to as well, but wouldn’t I be imposing?
Floriane would be proud of me… he thinks. Whilst TMs were not exactly his forte of interest, he pays rapt attention to the man, the way the words tumble from his mouth and his hands gesticulate in all sorts of wild directions. How he enunciates each word, stresses the proper syllables - an indication of linguistic proficiency, but more importantly, the Kalosian lisp. Fontaine becomes lost in the steady stream of the man’s conscious being and it is not only until the man speaks again does he break from his reverie.
The best. With the broadest of smiles.
Bien. Snaps his fingers, spins around in a little sashay. Come, his fingers linger on Mathew’s hand. we have much to see. He lets go of the young man, trots forward and Lisa trails after him. Home is but a small distance away and Mathew, a shadow behind him. Fontaine unlocks the door and the lights flicker to life. Lisa slithers up the stairs with her master in tow.
The room is dim. A scent wafts through the room and ornate paintings hang on every surface, whilst a plush bed has curtains billowing. The sun is just setting. Slips into a silken robe, where the remnant clothing of the day hang askew on a rack. Fontaine, alerted by Lisa, heads back down.
It seems their visitor has arrived.
Bienvenue et château de Richelieu. A drink, cheri?
He has no idea what is wrong with the man before him. Why his interest seems so much more than mere inquiry and why he’s intent on saying things Mathew believes are best kept between lovers. Was he flirting? Was this whole ordeal a bad idea? He doesn’t know, but Skitty seems happy with her situation and Mathew can’t bring it in him to part ways for her sake. Even though he’s unnerved and unsure about the motives and can’t help but question everything Fontaine is doing.
He listens as Mathew professes, with a profound sadness in his voice, how he were to find the Skitty a trainer. It reminds of him of Lisa, when he found her as a Snivy, abandoned and cold. He feels the smile leave his lips and a quiver instead replaces them. Tears threaten their onset. Fontaine bites his lip hard, tastes iron on his lips, and wonders, in that moment, how human they both are.
The artist refrains from touching Mathew, knowing how uncomfortable he’s made the poor man feel. Though it is the exuberance that drew him in, he feels that he’s hanging around for the only, and actual reason (he feels) has brought them together: that it is purely their sympathetic nature as humans that allows them to gravitate towards each other.
Merci, he speaks at last, a soft, gentle thing. Hearing stories from you is good enough. Though I do travel a lot and may include Kanto in my travels so perhaps, he pops a cigarette into his mouth, turns away, exhales the first breath, I could visit.
Me? he questions Mathew, wondering of the general vagueness of the question. Perhaps it was intentional. As you already know, I am an artist by trade. I make my living from painting figures both Pokemon and human. Exhale. His food remains untouched. What you do not know, is that I used to live with my (overbearing) mother and my sister is currently a singer travelling with a Unovan band - The Beartics, you may have heard of them.
It is now that he takes a break from the cigarette, and takes a bite of his food. It’s as he remembers it to be. I’m glad you enjoy the food. As to your question, it has been around for as long as I can remember; since I left for Unova and came back, this place has always been waiting for me with a warm cup of coffee.
Here, he smiles and the warmth suffuses from his features.
He quickly eats what’s left of his meal and starts his coffee. Same. He takes a sip, allows the warmth to fill him. Well, he begins, producing a platinum credit card and placing it with the maitre’d, I really must be going now, would you like join me back in my home?
He leans back, closes his eyes, allows himself space. The ambience is quite lovely and there is a sudden movement. Ignoring it, he allows the soft, supple hands ministrating his hair to continue. He sinks deeper into sleep. Sighs. Mumbles:
