want that k
11. impalement.
` you have been such a good friend to me. `
black heels and black oxfords click against the wet pavement rapidly as they make their way through the rain, looker holding an umbrella high above their heads to stop the droplets from hitting them further. agent river bounces when she walks, he notices, and he’s also noticed she seems so cheery no matter what. it’s a little endearing... though, at times, off-putting. he remembers how she informed him, with a smile, that her hydreigon would bite his arm off if he dared touch it without its permission, or when she talked about how she tortured individuals during her time in the army to get information out of them.
... she’s odd.
they reach her dainty flat on the other side of the city. she unlocks the door and pushes it open. ` come in, come in, at least until the rain stops! ` the look in her eyes is nothing but kind and warm, inviting and hospitable. she smiles with red-painted lips. he can’t help but accept.
though he does hesitate. there’s a worried look on his worn face when he steps inside, closing the umbrella, and shrugs off his dripping wet coat to hang it up on the rack.
meanwhile, river pulls off her heels and peels off her wet stockings. she keeps her coat on. ` i have not paid the heating yet this month. it does not work. perhaps you should keep your jacket on? ` concern. genuine concern in her voice, in her eyes. what is she thinking? heat floods to his face, turning his ears a vibrant red. she notices. she laughs.
and river goes to making them both tea. her hands are deft. sometimes, he takes note of how strange they are--six fingers on each hand. looker never mentions it. that’d be rude. so he watches her in silence as she moves effortlessly around her tiny kitchen and prepares them both cups. one is handed to him on a tiny plate.
` merci--er, thank you. `
` de rien, ` she giggles, lifting her cup and sipping as she walks to the window. rain patters against it, running down the fogged-up glass in thin rivulets. the silence that envelopes them is oddly comfortable. looker joins her at her side to look out at the pouring rain, at the people passing by with umbrellas over their head, children splashing through puddles and laughing and stray pokémon running for cover.
truly, he is thankful for her hospitality. it was a half-hour walk back to headquarters, a half-hour stuck in the rain if she had not invited him in. but why had she? surely, if any co-workers found out, rumors would soar. looker is worried about that, but she seems to have no cares at all. curious and curiouser.
he’s snapped out of his thoughts by a slender hand on his bicep.
` you are done, yes? `
` r-right. thank you, again. you have been far too kind, hm! `
` anything for a friend. `
friend. friend. he’s her friend? how many friends does he even have? once, agent river told him he was her only friend. it made him feel something. sympathy? pity? sadness, for her? what kind of life did she lead where she had no human friends outside of him? and surely, he did not constitute as a very good friend!
the cups are gathered and taken to the kitchen to be washed later. when she returns, he finally smiles at her for the first time since they arrived at her home. she smiles back. it’s only when she gets a little too close does the smile fade just slightly. why is she getting so close? ah, her face... he can feel her breathing. what’s she looking at?
certainly, she’s a very beautiful woman, but personal space is something everyone treasured. looker holds his breath. when she steps back, he releases it. the man’s eyes follow her as she makes her way to the coffee table, bends over to pick up her poké ball belt and pluck one of the orbs from it. ` i want to show you one of my darlings. i am sure you will like him! `
clicking the button in the center, the ball expands in her palm before open. in the beam of light materializes a bisharp--odd in color. shiny, perhaps? its body seems more polished than a regular bisharp’s. those blades make him nervous. one wrong move and he could be dead on the floor.
` this is claus. he was my second pokémon. is he not beautiful? `
looker swallows, nods slowly, agrees. dangerously beautiful. a bit like his trainer.
before he can ask why she’s showing him this pokémon, she speaks again, ` agent looker. you have been nothing but kind to me. i want to repay you in any way i can. `
` oh, surely, you do not have to! ` flattered, yes. a blush stains his cheeks. he’s still eyeing claus warily. the pokémon is watching him intently. it makes him even more nervous. ` i do these things not expecting anything in return, h-haha! `
river shrugs. her fingers steeple in front of her chest. she cocks her head, golden locks spilling to the side. then she takes a step forward. then another. then another. her bare feet make no noise against the carpet. looker’s breath hitches when her soft hands stroke his scruffy cheeks, when her thumbs rub the dark circles under his eyes. the gesture is meant to be calming, sure, as river is always so well-meaning, but looker finds it nothing short of unnerving.
` i want you to see your partner again. `
` hunh? `
something garbled is said, he doesn’t have time to make out what it is when the wind is knocked out of him. searing pain courses through his body. vision goes white for a moment. then there’s pain again. wetness. warmth. his body falls like a ragdoll to the floor. he twitches, gags, blood dripping from his lips.
with blurry vision he can make out claus flicking blood from his blades. what had happened? it had all gone so fast... did river truly order her pokémon to kill him? a punch through the gut with those bladed arms... weakly, his hand moves to the source of the pain. the moment he feels nothing but a gaping hole, his already ragged breathing grows more labored as he grows more panicked. he’s dying, he’s dying, he’s dying.
then he sees a familiar figure tower over him, then slowly sink down. river is on her knees, pulling his head into her lap and stroking his dark hair. he can’t talk. it hurts. bleary vision can make out the features of her face. she’s smiling.
she’s always smiling.
