Chapter 2: Strange and Strangers

Chapter 2: Strange and Strangers

As the gray cat eyed the medical kit in his paws, he wondered how, exactly, he had ended up like this. He had spent his whole life readying to become a doctor, or a nurse, or perhaps even a counselor. Now he found himself as a mystery dungeon’s janitor, pestered by a fifteen year-old girl.

“Come on, dude!” his minccino coworker donned in a faded yellow scarf and bycocket hat, Minichino, cried. The gray chinchilla was carrying three blue satchels, all of which were heavier than his. “If you took one, we’d get these filled up in no time!”

“I’m not going to do Demurke and Jermy’s jobs for them while they’re gone,” Meowth bluntly replied.

Minichino groaned. “Then could you at least work on your own, Meowth? We’re kind of on a time limit here!”

“I know.” He defiantly picked up a plastic bottle sitting atop the brush and shoved it into his satchel with a little too much force. It was still hardly half-full.

“Should lay off him a bit, Minichino.” Politoed had been watching them bicker as he scanned the floor for trash. The green frog, taller than both of them, was fiddling with the antique crown atop his head. “From the sound of it, he could come back with an empty satchel and Mr. Persian wouldn’t care.”

Meowth couldn’t exactly disagree, only offering Politoed a grunt and a shrug. About a month ago, his father had come to his little apartment’s front door with an offer: a comfy condo in the nicest part of town in exchange for providing medical services to his ‘Pick-it Up Club’ for low pay. Everyone else in the Club was here on their own initiative — only Meowth had been roped in by Mr. Persian. They all knew this.

“You know, I’m not even against Per keeping a doctor on-hand in case we run into a dungeon pokémon that’s too much to handle.” Thwack! The tree branch shook and rustled in response to Breloom’s successful high kick. The kangaroo with a mushroom cap for a head stuck the landing with her stretchy limbs, then looked to Meowth with eyes surrounded by black eyeshadow. Two gems at her neck glinted from the sun piercing the layer of leaves. One was a pink crystal embedded into a medallion — the other, a smooth sky-blue stone holding together a violet cape that draped down her back. “But if you really don’t like the job, ‘Owth, that medical license of yours could get you somewhere more important to you.”

And it’d get you out of the picture so you’d stop bringing the mood down. Breloom didn’t say that part, but she didn’t need to. Meowth knew.

“Sorry, I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Suit yourself, I guess,” Politoed commented with an air of disappointment. The gleam of his own matching crystal medallion kept getting into Meowth’s eyes.

Minichino, taking Politoed’s advice, turned her attention away from him and towards her own work. “Well, if we’re not gonna clean up for them, that just means I’ll have to go find where they ran off to and give them back!” She promptly marched into the woods, beckoning for the rest of them to follow.

Meowth didn’t mind using this as a distraction from the prior conversation. They didn’t understand that this really was important. Until he had shown up on his doorstep last month, Meowth hadn’t seen his father in six years — not since he sent him off to dorm life when he was thirteen. The only bits of contact he had was the occasional visit from his assistant, Demurke.

This whole ‘Pick-it Up Club’ thing had been suspicious from the moment Mr. Persian mentioned it. He never took his father the environmentalist type, and even if he was, it didn’t explain why he chose now, of all times, to talk to him again. There was only one explanation that made sense: Mr. Persian wanted something from him, beyond just his occupation. Meowth wanted to know why. So, he agreed to his father’s game.

When he had noticed Jermy in the resort lobby this morning, Meowth had known today was the day he’d beat him at it.

Mr. Persian and Demurke had made a hasty entrance to the lobby of Kalmwa’er Resort, their usual meeting spot where they planned the workday. This time, however, a pikachu Meowth wasn’t familiar with had been with them. “Everyone, I’d like to introduce you all to Jermy,” his father had said. “He’s a representative from a company sponsoring the resort, and he’ll be joining the Club starting today!”

“Heck yeah!” Minichino had cheered. “The more members, the better!”

Breloom crouched down, looking at the green robot accompanying the pikachu. “Who’s the funny-looking magnemite?”

“I am the Observational Recreation Buddy, abbreviated ORB, version 5.1,” it had said. “I am not a pokémon, but a robot.”

“He’s mine!” Jermy had said. “I built him myself.”

“Unfortunately.”

“You made them?!” Minchino had run up to Jermy with an eager expression. “That’s so cool!”

And so bizarre. Meowth hadn’t seen anything like this before. An autonomous machine…where did this pikachu learn to build that kind of technology?

“Said he works for one of your sponsors, right? What brings him here?” Politoed had asked.

“Oh!” Mr. Persian had taken a second to answer that question. “They have a ‘goodwill program’ where employees are sent out to help the local community. Apparently, we might even see more new members come from that. They think the Club is a good fit!”

That was when it happened. His father’s face had risen into a hollowly charismatic grin. When Meowth saw that performative smile, he knew he needed to keep a close eye on Jermy. When Meowth was little, that was the face he made when he was lying.

Speaking of Jermy, it seemed like the four of them were approaching him, ORB, and Demurke. Meowth heard the distant rustling of leaves scuffing of dirt. They were nearby — and it didn’t sound like they were alone.

“This is really your first time?” a voice said, low-pitched and loud.

“I reckon that we ain’t gonna be the easiest to teach,” another voice said, youthful and nasally.

“Yeah, I’m new to all this.” That was Jermy. “David usually has me throwing my noggin at other things, but you guys are pretty different. You’ll need somebody like me around!”

The voices and noises were getting closer. Teaching them… What did that mean? Who were these strangers?

“And n-no worries, Joey!” Meowth could see the group walking together now. Demurke was addressing a cubone and a totodile carrying an oversized backpack. “You and Mathew have me! I-I’ve done this whole recruitment thing a…few times before, so I know a thing or t-two.”

“You also have me, a catalog of information,” ORB said. “On that note, here’s a pretty obvious rule number zero…” Suddenly, he whirled around to face Meowth and the others as they approached from the side. “Don’t get snuck up on this easily.”

“Hey, we’re not sneaking!” Minichino exclaimed. Meowth was amused by the denial — by not saying a word, they gave him a chance to sneak a listen. “I was gonna give you your satchels back, but now I wanna know who the heck these two are.”

“It’s Mathew Walker. I’m a master engineer and marketer.” The cubone set the backpack aside and put a hand in front of Minichino. “You’re Minichino, right? Demurke told me that you’re the co-owner of the Club.”

“Yep! That’s me!” Minichino bowed to him.

Slowly, Mathew rescinded his hand and bowed back. “You sound a little young to be running a business…”

Minichino flashed him a cheeky grin. “Why yes, yes I am!”

Already, Meowth found this stranger suspect. He had a second name and seemed confused when Minichino greeted her. Wherever he came from, it had a strange culture.

“And you’d be…?”

Meowth hadn’t realized Mathew was prompting him. “It’s just Meowth.”

“Huh.”

That was a pretty lame greeting, he was probably thinking, based on the way he looked at him. Meowth really didn’t have more to say.

“Howdy, Minichino, howdy, Meowth, and — oh!” The totodile gave a hasty bow. “Uh, howdy, your Highness!”

“Highness?” Politoed looked at him curiously before remembering what he wore on his head. “Oh, no. I’m no prince.”

“Hah? Why do you wear a crown, then?”

“Just an heirloom. Called a King’s Rock.” He tapped the crown on his head. “An antique before they made crowns in gold. See?”

Politoed immediately nudged the King’s Rock back into place. I care about my crown immensely, though — I’m just being modest, he was surely thinking right now.

“Huh,” Joey remarked. “If I can’t call you your Highness, what’s your name, then?”

“Just Politoed is fine.”

Rather than address the two strangers, Breloom approached Jermy. “So are you gonna explain what’s going on here, Jer, or you gonna keep teasing us?”

“Yeah, I can explain!” Jermy said. “See, Mathew and Joey here are actually new members to the company, working in an office down in Cosaline. To get them started, we’re having them help here in Kalmwa’er. The whole reason I joined you guys was so that I could come meet them as soon as they were close to town!”

“Wow! That goodwill program’s really coming in clutch!” Minichino exclaimed.

Was she seriously entertaining this? This story sounded absurd. Meowth supposed the part about Mathew and Joey could be true, but Jermy went into a mystery dungeon with the Club just to meet them early? There was no reason he needed to do that.

“Cosaline, huh? Sounds like you had a long trip,” Breloom remarked. She took it upon herself to pick up the big backpack. Surprisingly, she could handle it alone. “I’ll carry this for you, yeah?”

Joey beamed at Breloom. “Thanks, Mrs. Mushroom!”

Breloom stifled a laugh, mouthing ‘Mrs. Mushroom’ to herself. “You can drop the Mrs. I don’t have a kid…yet.” She wrapped an arm around Politoed. “Just call me Breloom, Joe.”

The blushing Politoed struggled to pull himself away. “So, how is Cosaline?”

“Pretty good!” Mathew was quick to answer. “They just finished construction on a statue in the center of town. Really livens up the place, you know?”

Meowth had been keeping up with the news on Cosaline. They did build a statue there recently, but why was the first thing he mentioned not… “What about the fire?”

The wide-eyed look Mathew gave him said a thousand words. “Come again?”

“…The fire in town that nearly burned it down last week?” Politoed raised a brow, looking curious. “Got news on it over here, too. Good thing Count Spinarak’s image wasn’t melted…”

“Yeah!” Mathew whipped back to Politoed, looking relieved. “It was a good thing that didn’t happen. It looks so nice now!”

Him simply going along with what Politoed told him confirmed it for Meowth. These two definitely weren’t from Cosaline. Where were they from, then? Why lie?

“I hate to break up the fun,” ORB said, “but you all should probably go back to the Resort. All of these nerds need to actually sign up for the job.”

“Yeah, you’re right…” As Minichino handed Demurke and Jermy their satchels back, she sounded almost disappointed. “It’s almost noon, anyway. We gotta get out of here before the mystery dungeon shifts.”

“What’s a mys—?”

Demurke tapped Joey with a talon, which made him go quiet. None of them addressed it, but based on Minichino, Politoed, and Breloom’s nervous demeanors, all of them heard it.

As they walked in silence, Meowth could hardly take his eyes off Joey. Not when they reached the edge of town…not when they stopped to deliver all the trash to the dump…especially not when they were all tightly crammed inside the gondola car taking them to the lower part of Kalmwa’er.

What’s a mystery dungeon. How could somebody not know what a mystery dungeon is? They surrounded civilization on all sides in every part of the world. Those who were that clueless were the kind of people that became dungeon pokémon — their strange, easy-to-agitate inhabitants. Meowth tried to wrap his head around it, but he couldn’t find any way for Joey to not at least get the picture from mentioning the shift.

That settled it. Meowth didn’t know who or what they were, but Mathew and Joey were not normal pokémon. Whatever his father had wanted from him, he was certain these two were the key to it. All he had to do was find a way to pull the answers out of them.

It didn’t take long for them to stand in the shadow of Mr. Persian’s creation. Glass door slid apart to lead them into the lobby. In the front, finished wood flooring, bean bag chairs arranged in circles, and a large fan hung from the ceiling to give a cozy atmosphere. In the back, black and white tiling and a chandelier illuminated a fancier space with a high-class feel. There was something for everyone here — except Meowth, who found it to all feel fake.

“Here we are,” Breloom remarked as she set the backpack down in a chair.

“Ah, welcome back!” Right in front of them, standing just ahead of the reception desk, was his father, As he approached, Meowth noticed Mathew fiddle with his tie, seemingly reminded by the purple bowtie his father always wore. “I assume the workday went as smoothly as ever?”

“Yepperoni!” Jermy answered before gesturing to Mathew and Joey. “And we met up with these two, just as planned.”

“Excellent.” Mr. Persian briefly scanned over the cubone and totodile, then bowed. “It’s a pleasure to properly meet you both. I’d be glad to hand you three job contracts right away, but my office is kind of a mess at the moment… I’m afraid that I’m not sure where I put my blank copies.”

“An unclean office?!” Minichino cried. “This sounds like a job for me!” She was already storming into the Resort.

“Minichino, you don’t have to…!” Mr. Persian sighed. “Sorry about this. Could you wait here?”

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” Meowth tossed himself into an open chair. When he landed, Mr. Persian stared at him, head tilted.

“Don’t w-worry, Mr. Persian.” Demurke lightly patted Mr. Persian’s back, bringing him back to attention. “I’ll help, too!”

Mr. Persian turned to her, looking grateful. “Thank you, Demurke,” Mr. Persian said as they walked off. “You’re always such a good help.”

Looking up at him, Meowth wanted to spit in his father’s face. What was all this? Demurke only helped him because it was her job, and Minichino only helped him because it was her passion. What was Mr. Persian achieving, making him think these were grand gestures? That he had somehow changed? He hadn’t changed at all. His only friends were his most loyal employees.

“Good luck finding those papers!” Jermy called out. “Boy, I remember when I would lose papers before I had ORB to remember where I put them for me. Let’s hope he can find them faster than I could…”

It had been a long ten minutes. Meowth and the others had been sitting idle for long enough that his tail was falling asleep. Surely the three of them together could have found those papers faster… What was holding them up?

Breloom eyed the clock hanging over the entrance. “Geez. If Per’s room is this bad, no wonder he needs Dem.”

“Well, what did you expect?” To be honest, Meowth was asking both Breloom and himself. Mr. Persian’s actual office was a mystery to him. He always conducted business matters for the Club in other empty offices and meeting rooms around the resort. There were a lot of those.

“Dunno.” Politoed was deeper into his beanbag chair than Meowth was, getting a good view of the ceiling. “Definitely making me wish I brought a radio or something. Can’t pass time doing nothing like you can.”

Got a lot of practice wasting your time, Politoed was telling himself. Meowth just tried to ignore it.

“You guys want music?” Jermy hopped out of his chair. “Well, I know a certain robot that can solve that!”

“ORB can play music?” Mathew sounded impressed.

“I hope he means me,” ORB said. “If he made more of me, I’d sue for neglect.”

“What are y’all waiting for then?!” Joey exclaimed. “Play something nice.”

“Fine. Now playing: Wilting Woes instrumental, by Dula Steppinbeech.”

Dula Steppinbeech? What kind of name was that? For that matter, what kind of music was this? It sounded terrible.

Somehow, Mathew was bopping his head to it. “Oh, hell yeah, harmon-pop!”

“More like harmon-my ears,” Meowth mumbled, pawing at them. “What is that lead instrument?”

“It’s…a harmonica.” Mathew looked uncertain, but he spoke with confidence. “It’s a new trendy thing in Cosaline.”

“Huh. I’m gonna have to visit Cosaline at some point. They got something going on there…” Breloom was already flexing her claws, plucking an air guitar to feel out the song’s bassline. Meowth had learned years ago that neither Breloom nor Politoed were to type to sit still when there was music in the air. It was annoying.

He instead began studying the stranger. That cubone, smiling at Breloom’s fake-playing, recognized this genre before either of the couple did. Those two were music nuts. How could they not have heard about a new genre growing in a town this close to Kalmwa’er? Unless—

“So tired of waiting, for something new to come…”

Of course. He was finally coming to a revelation, and here Politoed comes, crashing his train of thought!

“They’re tired of hiding, there’s nowhere else to run…” Either Politoed couldn’t see him see him sending annoyed glares, or he was ignoring him. It was probably the latter.

“Huh, nice improv.” Mathew shut his eyes, waiting for a moment to strike himself. “I see songbirds in green, two golden gleams — la la la-la, la la la-laaa…”

Meowth sunk deeper into his chair. He wanted to shut both of them up, especially the out-of-rhythm stranger, but he didn’t have the guts — not while people were watching.

Politoed, on the other hand, seemed to welcome his challenge. “Not bad for a newbie. Lots of room for improvement, though.”

“Newbie?!” Mathew sprung out of his chair. “Buddy, I’ve been practicing longer than you’ve probably been alive. I’m just rusty, is all. Usually, I’m the one strumming…” That remark made Breloom perk up in interest. “If I was more ready, I’d make up lyrics a shit-ton better than yours!”

“Quite a big challenge you’re making there.” Politoed looked amused as he rose to his feet. “Think you can back it up?”

Mathew was unfazed. “Oh, I know I can.”

Before Meowth knew it, ORB had started the track over, and the two singers were standing across from each other. The cubone straightened up, while Politoed slouched down. Meowth was close to burying himself in his own chair out of embarrassment. “You have to be kidding me…”

“I’ve banked on chance, I got nothing left to lose.” Mathew brought the blunt end of his club close to his mouth, using it as a makeshift microphone. “Your kingliness, I don’t get to pick and choose.”

“You’d change your tune if you saw the things I’ve seen. (You saw the things I’ve seen, yeah.)” Politoed’s singing voice, as always, was controlled, clean but not overpowering. “That cracked mask blinds you just like a muddied screen!”

“Frogger, don’t act like I’ve got innocence, I’m older than you know.” Mathew’s singing voice, on the other hand, was voluminous but shaky. It was obvious he hadn’t practiced recently now that he had reached the point in the song he had improvised last time.

“It seems for all that talk and all that walk, you’ve got so far to go!” As Wilting Woes barreled into the chorus, Politoed took notice that they had attracted a small crowd. That seemed to embolden him.

“Set your crowned ass right down, ‘cause you have lots to learn,” Mathew sang. “Torching up all that pride will be one big slow burn.”

“Dance in your masquerade, I can’t be one to judge,” Politoed fired back. “Just know I think you’ll end up deep within the sludge!”

The song put an end to the chorus. The harmonica paused to give the guitar a solo, one Breloom made the most of. During the break, the crowd gave Mathew and Politoed a modest applause. Joey and Jermy clapped with them.

Meowth couldn’t understand their enthusiasm. He, for one, hadn’t cringed more times consecutively in years. Politoed he understood, but did this cubone have no sense of shame? If this is what he meant by ‘marketer’, he wasn’t sure if he was a fan.

“Thanks much!” Politoed said before turning to the current and future Club members. “Got an opinion on which one of us did better?”

“Oh yeah, we never actually picked a judge, did we?” Mathew asked.

Meowth propped himself up in his seat. “If you’re looking for a judge, you’ll have one when my father comes back and gets upset with you for making a scene.”

“And there’s the fun police.” Breloom gave up the air guitar. “I had a sneaking feeling they’d show up eventually.”

“Oh, lighten up a little. You know he’s not gonna be mad, right?” He turned back to Mathew. “Got a candidate for a judge in Meowth. Certainly does a great job figuring out which things he doesn’t like.”

“It’s less about me not liking it and more about you two making a mockery of yourselves in public.” He gestured to the dissolving crowd. Recognizing that the moment had passed, ORB’s music cut out.

“Trust me, this isn’t even close to the most embarrassing thing I’ve done.” Mathew flipped his bone club over. “The more times you let yourself be weird, the easier it gets. You should really try it!”

Meowth just sighed. He couldn’t deny that Mathew had given him sound advice, but that didn’t mean that he liked it.

“Don’t expect too much from him.” Politoed straightened up his crown. “Me, Breloom, and Meowth used to room together in Higher Ed. Try as we might, him and ‘fun’ just don’t go together very well.”

And so the seed was planted. Now that Mathew understood his history, he would soon grow to detest Meowth just as much as everyone else. No point trying to prevent it from happening — if somebody else didn’t do it, he’d eventually plant the seed himself, intentionally or otherwise. That was just how things were.

“Anyways, good work, both of you. Have to say though, you have some…original lines, Math.” Breloom put a claw to the bottom tip of her mouth. “What’s ‘crowned ass’ mean to you, by the by?”

Mathew was flustered by the question. “It…uh…means donkey. I was calling you king of the donkeys.”

“Me, dirt-ridden like a busy mudbray? Now I see the insult.” Politoed nodded in approval. “Clever! A real talented one, Mathew. Where’d you learn so much about songcraft?”

“Nowhere in particular.” Mathew was quick to shut down the subject, his tone suddenly drained of that curiosity it held before. Meowth couldn’t help but wonder why.

“We’re back!” Minichino interrupted Politoed’s chance to ask more questions. Mr. Persian and Demurke were with her, the latter of whom was carrying a stack of papers.

“I’m so sorry for the delay,” Mr. Persian said with an apologetic tone. “I didn’t anticipate finding those sheets would be such a hassle…”

“Did we m-miss anything interesting?” Demurke asked.

Mathew and Politoed passed looks to each other. “We wasted some time having fun and that’s about it,” the cubone explained. “Are we getting hired now?”

Mr. Persian smacked his front paws on the floor eagerly. “Absolutely!” He turned himself around. “Follow me.”

Mr. Persian led them deeper into the resort. Although the fancier side of the lobby had a more elegant appearance from afar, it wasn’t all that different upon closer inspection. Chairs still lined the walls, and a wooden walkway cut through the tile in the hallways. As they walked, they passed by a glass wall presenting a room with treadmills and weights for bipeds and quadrupeds alike. For some reason, Jermy’s gait became more stiff as they walked by the fitness room.

Soon enough, they arrived at a small, generic office space. A number of bean bag chairs were splayed out in front of a mahogany desk. The green walls were lined with picture frames holding quality photos of people Meowth didn’t recognize. Two clear windows, facing a pool in the back of the resort, brought in rays of warm light. It was one of those rooms that felt like home, until he tried to sink his paws in the carpet floor and found it wasn’t actually cushiony at all — a reminder that this was business space, and the home he was thinking of was just a distant memory.

That was where they all gathered to watch as Mr. Persian signed this trio of strangers into their lives.

“Now that you’ve been welcomed to the Club, we have one more matter to discuss.” Mr. Persian leaned in slightly. “The matter of living accommodations. As part of our sponsor’s program, I’m going to provide you three with a room on the top floor.”

“Top floor, huh? Nice.” Mathew seemed to approve, if only mildly.

Meowth kept eyeing his father from his seat. So that was his place in this supposed program? Providing a room in the resort? He supposed it made sense on the surface, but knowing just how unusual these strangers were, he kept looking for a deeper reading.

“Sounds like you all are gonna be living in style,” Breloom remarked.

Mr. Persian nodded. “That’s right! They’ll meet all sorts of esteemed guests, too.” He reached a paw out to dip his claws in more ink to pen with.

The two of them locked eyes. Meowth could see his face clearly as he agreed with Breloom.

That smile. That stupid smile. Taunting him. Telling Meowth, I’m slipping this master plan right past you and you don’t even know.

Meowth had to stop this.

He stepped in between Mr. Persian and the Club members. “I have a better idea.” He peered at Mr. Persian. “Recently, Mr. Persian offered me a condo to stay in for the next few months. He’s already paying for it, and it’s a little bit large for one person to live in. Wouldn’t it be better if you lived in the condo with me instead of cramming into one small room?”

“What?!” Minichino gawked and Demurke flapped her wings, both taken aback by Meowth’s offer at the same time. The rest of the room seemed stunned into silence — besides the people he was selling this on.

“How big are we talking?” Mathew asked. “Does it still have a view?”

Interest. There was the momentum he needed. “It’s towards the edge of the cliff, and there’s a big glass window, so you can see the sunset on the ocean each day,” Meowth began to explain. “I have enough spare rooms to fit all three of you. You would have a commute to the Club each morning, but in exchange, you can use the kitchen and not have to share beds.”

There was a pause…and then Joey looked to Jermy. “That’s a pretty good bargain… Would it be a big deal if we did it?”

Jermy was at a complete loss. “I…don’t…think so?”

ORB elected to save him. “The primary conflict would be more limited access to Club facilities. Aside from that, interference would be relatively limited.”

That seemed to be enough for Mathew. “We’ll do that, then.”

“Hang on a second,” Politoed said. “Remember what we talked about earlier. You sure you know what you’re doing?”

Mathew listened to all this, nodding away, before answering Politoed’s question. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, you two, but I’ve literally just met Meowth. All I know about him is that he offered us a house for free. And what? You think it’s a bad idea because he’s a little bit of a buzzkill?”

“You want to see for yourself if he’s as bad as we say.” Politoed nodded. “Kind of get that. Just hope you don’t regret it, is all…”

Mr. Persian hadn’t said anything during their change of plans, but his panicked face said enough. “Excuse me.” He moved away from the desk. “Meowth, could we speak for a moment in private?”

Meowth shrugged. “Sure.”

Mr. Persian and Meowth vacated the office room, returning to the narrow hallway.

“Before I say anything, I want you to know that that was a very good pitch. That being said… What are you trying to do here, Meowth?!” He shrilly whispered.

“I’m taking matters into my own hands,” Meowth told him simply. “I’ve made my case and it sounds like they liked it.”

“Taking matters into your…?” He shook his head, padding around him. “Meowth, you don’t understand. I have to—“

“Make more money? I get it. It’s all you ever do these days.”

His father’s eyes widened in shock at the remark. The expression was gratifying. “When did you get that idea!?”

“Mr. Persian, sir!” Suddenly, Demurke shoved the door open and drove a wedge between them. “I… I think we should a-allow Meowth to take them in. That c-condo is nicer than the hotel rooms…” she nodded to herself, as if to assure herself of her own stance. “It wouldn’t be h-hard to work around them being a couple minutes away. Besides…it might be better for…”

Demurke refused to finish her sentence, but with the way she and Mr. Persian were sharing glances, she didn’t need to. Better for what?

Mr. Persian sighed. “I’m still not sure, but you have final say. I suppose you can take them, Meowth.”

“Thanks. They’ll be good help.” He turned around to open the door, leading the three of them back into the office to secure their place in his condo.

Behind him, his father mumbled a lament. “Meowth… What’s gotten into you?”

Meowth didn’t bother to entertain him with an answer.

“Here we are,” Meowth said, pushing the creaky door open. “Make yourselves at home.”

“Phew!” Mathew stumbled into the condo, hardly able to hold the backpack anymore. “Finally…”

In front of them was Meowth’s kitchen, a tighter space where a refrigerator and a pair of microwaves stood. Beyond that, the house opened up to a cozy living room with a couch and a television. The back wall was composed entirely of glass, giving a full view of the ocean and the rest of town below.

“Wow, this is real nice!” Experimenting, Joey walked around in the kitchen. At twice Meowth’s height, it was a little tight to navigate. When he looked to one of the counters, he paused. “Er… You have two microwaves?”

“One of them was a birthday gift, the other came with the condo,” Meowth explained. “Don’t question it.”

Jermy sighed. “I’m still not sure about this…”

“Didn’t you let this happen, Jermy?” ORB said.

“I did, I did…” Jermy conceded. “But only because I didn’t want to play the bad cop!”

“Come on…man!” Mathew exclaimed, dragging his backpack into the living room. “He gave this…to us…for free!” Meowth watched as Mathew paused and whirled his head around the living room. Branching off from the main living space, there were two rooms blocked by doors on the side walls, and a staircase on the right led up to more. “Hey Meowth, where can I settle down?” he asked after soaking it in.

“The room to the left is mine, and the right’s a supply closet. Take one of the three rooms upstairs.”

“Got it!” Mathew continued to lug his belongings to the corner, then slowly and steadily up the staircase. Meowth quickly slipped into the closet and grabbed a nest before giving chase.

The second floor was a smaller living room with a few proper Meowth-sized chairs, another television, and three doors, one at each wall. Meowth tailed Mathew as he struggled towards the door across from the back window. Three doorknobs awaited him: one his height, one slightly above Joey’s height, and one above that. Turning the one at his level turned them all.

The room Mathew had chosen was modestly sized, with orange walls and a dark wooden floor. The walls were lined with unremarkable white cabinets, and the side facing the neighborhood had two small windows which brought in a tolerable amount of light. To the left was another door, attached to a washroom. It wasn’t exactly an area Mathew would spend all his time in, but Meowth supposed it was better that way.

With one final tug, Mathew let the backpack stand. He absentmindedly began to unpack. “Hey Meowth, would you mind if—” Mathew stopped when he looked up.

“Yes?” Meowth asked.

“What the hell is that?” he pointed towards the disk-shaped conglomeration of strand and straw he was dragging behind him.

“I’m bringing a nest for your room. Sleeping on the floor isn’t very comfortable.”

“We’re…sleeping in nests.” Mathew’s expression went unread beneath his mask, but Meowth could guess what it looked like. “Do you sleep in a nest?”

“I do,” Meowth answered. “Do you not where you’re from?”

“Not at all.” The cubone stretched his arms. “But I guess I’m gonna have to get used to it. I need a nap…”

Meowth turned his back on Mathew to get nests for Joey and Jermy’s rooms. Yeah, you should get used to it, Mathew, he thought. You three need to get relaxed if I hope to learn anything from you…