Truth be told, Oleana took great pleasure and pride in her community service. Though menial labor seemed a waste of her skills, work for the sake of Galar (and her work in the mines in particular) somehow made her feel closer to Rose. Even putting that aside, work granted a sense of purpose and a means of occupying her mind. A completed checklist, she was sure, could bring her satisfaction regardless of the context.
That being said, deciding to take her services to Spikemuth had perhaps been a mistake. As if it wasn’t enough that the place had a certain way of bringing to mind things she preferred to forget, she sensed eyes leering at her around every corner, full of mistrust.
At the very least, certain things remained as true here as they were elsewhere: none were foolish enough to actually try anything with her—particularly not when she had a towering, foul-smelling Garbodor at her side.
Having already paid her obligatory visit to Marnie to assess the state of the gym and offer, once more, to have it relocated (soundly refused, of course), Oleana had chosen to linger on the street running to it and busy herself with basic litter pickup. As she moves to skewer a discarded can on the end of her rubbish picker, a series of clicks and low trills from Marjory interrupt her uncharitable rumination on the fate of the town and its residents.
Years of partnership allow her to understand the Garbodor’s sounds as a request: Is for me? Glancing up, she finds an excitedly drooling Marjory poised over the soggy remains of an old mattress that must have been tossed into the street at least a month prior.
“I don’t see why not,” she replies, spearing a plastic bottle. “Help yourself.”
With an exhuberant squeal, Marjory begins to tear into the thing, scattering bits of moldy fluff into the gutter. For all the harsh judgment the species tended to receive, none could accuse a member of the Trubbish line of being difficult to please. Oleana has to smile, seeing her partner so happy with her find—and it is a smile sorely needed.
No sooner has Marjory managed to rip off a chunk of the mattress, however, that she suddenly pauses, her focus wandering down the road. When Oleana turns her head to follow the Pokémon’s gaze, she finds herself face to face with someone regrettably familiar.
“Oh... Mr. Fluellyn. What a surprise.”
Though perhaps it shouldn’t be; they are in his town, after all, and still fairly close to the gym.
