James knew he didn’t really have a purrloin’s chance in hell of getting a position. He put his application in out of pure support - but he couldn’t really have the same Pokemon as Marnie’s ace, and unfortunately Bogan was the only dark type he actually had.
So when Marnie invited him over (not entirely uncommon, but given the timing he was suspect) and sat him down like that he had to hide his smile - he wasn’t trying to be condescending. In fact, he was nothing but proud of her.
He listens as he sips from his coffee, nodding along gently so she doesn’t think he’s losing interest. Finally, when she stops speaking, he smiles brightly.
“– I know, Marns. I love Dark types, but they’re not my passion the same way it is for most here. For those you need as y’trainers ” He replies finally, nodding as he takes another sip. He doesn’t sound remotely bitter. “I’ve only got Bogan, and you have your Grimm as y’ace. Wouldn’t be proper anyway. I honestly didn’t expect to get a spot! Truth is, I put the application in t’help, y’know?”
That sounded a little odd. He fumbled for a moment, rolling his free hand to give his time to formulate words in his head.
“– What I mean is, I’ve watched y’grow up from being knee-high. You an’Piers both. Y’like family, like– the little sister I didn’t have?” He looks away for a moment. God that was awkward. He grumbled and looked back. “Anything you do, I’ll back you, even if I can’t always help. I can’t into words how proud I am of you, of seeing you making these sorts of decisions. You’ve become such an inspiration f’so many people in this town, me included.”
He smiles then, taking another sip.
“You’re one hell of a gym leader and we’re all gonna follow you th’same as we did Piers. I can, though, promise I’m not gonna carry around a banner with y’face on.” He broke into a grin, laughing. “– Even for me, that level of support was a bit much.”
“You never have to be worried about telling me anything, however blunt it is.”
that’s the kind of spirit she loves to see, someone with dedication to their craft. bede would be lucky to have this kind of trainer under his wing ; it’s a shame he’s already casted most of his gym’s peons. arms fold triumphantly, clearly comfortable now that the scrafty was out of the bag. shoulders relax, unnerved vocals relieved of their previous tension. it was reassuring to know james had her back, regardless of whether his inclusion in the dark gym would be paramount. nails bite at jacket’s arm out of habit.
“ yeh, i getcha. i ‘preciate th’ support noneth’less. . . wouldn’ be spikemuth wif’out half ‘a ya. ” eyes close, a fond memory splashing the crowning lights behind shut eyelids. in the dance of pressure flitting along squeezed eyes, marnie watches her brother in screaming lightshow, makeup bold &&. lyrics even bolder. it’s a feeling of belonging in his words that lifts her up, that reminds her that it’s okay to be upset with yourself. that’s being honest, true to yourself in ways others could only dream of.
when she opens her eyes again, there’s a gloss to them, the faintest sign she would’ve cried had she no one around. ( less cried, more-so let a single tear slip. ) marnie reaches for her own mug of coffee, blows the steam from its lip, letting her own dip in for a taste swigged back. it’s a warmth most would find awful, bittersweet medium roast barely graced with a flavored creamer. . . call her cliché.
“ i know i can trust ye, james. always ‘ave, always will. ”
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