“Sorry, I can’t understand you, little guy,” Seb replied with a grimace and a shrug. He held his chin in thought for a moment. “But out of curiosity, you’re psychic, right? You know telepathy, by any chance?”
Neo cocked his head to the side. With a light trill, he sent a few gentle messages to the trainer’s mind: an image of a friendly wave, accompanied with a welcoming warmth. Then, a question, posed not in words but in feelings:
are you a friend?
His gaze shifted to Wes and he studied him and Neo for a few moments. "If you don't mind, why are you looking for them?"
Novo let himself relax a little. Maybe he could afford to trust this guy…just a little bit. Hopefully. They didn’t have much to go on at this point.
He sat on his haunches and stared at the ground with a defeated sigh. In low, sorrowful trills, he told the man about the disappearances, about how they took his Mightyena friend. And above all…about how he feared they would take Wes, or Neo, or himself, and separate them from each other. They were his family. His everything. He couldn’t lose them, and if in the end he’d be unable to protect them…
Novo’s ears drooped. He wanted to keep them safe.
Needed them to be safe. He looked back up at the waiter. Couldn’t the legendaries help them? Give them advice, or lend their power, or even help protect those who were left?
Chef Flygon regarded Wes with narrowed eyes. "Yes, I am of course aware with legendary and mythical pokemon. But have you considered if they would want to speak to you?" He spoke plainly, neither sounding angry or pleased, merely questioning.
Wes only just managed to bite back an angry retort.
So self-important. For Pokémon that were so useless on this island, legendaries sure seemed to think highly of themselves.
After a moment, though, the anger faded into weariness. As much as he hated to admit it…the Flygon—gods, the
talking Flygon dressed as a chef—had a point. “Look, I don’t…I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know why a legendary would want anything to do with me. I’m not anything special. I’m not…not a good person, either.” He couldn’t help the hint of bitterness that crept into his tone. “I mean, I’ve
tried to…I don’t know. Make things better. Do the right thing. But I only end up hurting the people I care about. I guess I’m not cut out to be the noble, heroic type.” He forced a laugh.
“It probably looks like I’m asking for special treatment or some shit. And I guess I kind of am, depending on how you look at it. But I’m not doing this for me. Frankly, going up to strangers and asking them questions is the
last thing I want to do, no matter what universe I’m in. But…someone here is hurting a lot of people, innocent people, and they’ll hurt more if they aren’t stopped.” He looked down at Neo and rubbed his ears. He noticed Novo near the back, chatting with…another waiter? Wes couldn’t imagine that conversation would get very far, but for all he knew maybe everybody on this island was telepathic or whatever.
Neo leaned into Wes’ hand with a loving purr. Wes smiled a little, then looked back up at the Flygon. “Look, I don’t deserve shit. I know I don’t. But my Pokémon deserve to be safe, and I can almost guarantee those missing trainers are better people than I am. I just…want to help, but I don’t have anything to work with.”
He suddenly realized just how long he’d been talking, and felt his face heat up a little. Dammit. He must have been more tired than he thought, to just dump all this crap on some random stranger—a talking Flygon stranger, no less. “Just looking for some help, is all. I guess. I don’t care what happens to me, but I’ll be damned if I can’t at least protect my family.”