Don't forget to slurp loudly!

[uber_marionettist]

Who: Ford Pines and Dirk Strider
Where: A very specific ramen shop in Violet City
When: June 7
Summary: So, it turns out Ford wasn't kidding when he said he didn't hate Dirk. But owo what's this? PLUSH RUMP is evolving...!
Rating: PG-13, probably with gratuitous talk of butts

There are a lot of reasons to avoid Violet City, for Dirk. He's not a terribly welcome visitor to the PokeCentre, for one thing. He's definitely not at all welcome at the Ruins, or even anywhere remotely near them. The regular presence of Psychic types in the area means he is always at some consistently elevated level of personal risk from the stray Espurr or Chingling that picked FIGHT instead of RUN.

Really, the list just goes on and on and on and on, it's a real fucking headache, which is actually another one of those reasons--he figures it's Unown-related, but training with Arion and Plush Rump left him with a real goddamn whopper of one. It's a sharp, throbbing pain originating from the back of his head, like a railroad spike thrust into his skull somewhere around the occipital lobe of his suffering human brain.

But there are specific reasons to make Violet his training destination, too. The Types available in the Tower, for example (which he has generously not been banned from, despite his flagrant disrespect of protocols like scaling the 'outside' of the tower rather than the 'inside.') The relatively proximity of the city to Goldenrod is another.

And then, of course, there's the ramen.

Comments

[meteorman]

The best part about this particular ramen shop is that it recently moved over from Ecruteak, a city even more steeped in the traditional trappings and cultural values of Japan-Even-Though-Japan-Doesn't-Exist-In-This-Universe. Ford, who has certainly seen stranger, has long since stopped wondering about that in favor of simply enjoying the experience.

And this particular shop is an experience. It's small, with precious little room inside for anything other than a counter, stools, and a few small tables and chairs along the opposite wall. Across the entrance hang a row of lanterns shaped like Magikarp with their mouths pointing downward, a few of which are the fancy patterns rather than the normal orange. On the walls inside hang detailed wall scrolls featuring a Ninetales, an Arcanine, and a red Gyarados. At the moment a Braixen in a little bandana and apron is bustling around behind the counter: her master is on break.

This was Ford's favorite place in Ecruteak, which is saying a lot considering everything else cool about Ecruteak. It's now one of his favorite places in Violet. He makes a point of stopping in often despite the fact that he sees the owner all the time (when she's not here she's at the Horizon Gym being one of his junior trainers) because it's not just about maintaining a friendship, it's about having places that are his. That's something he's finally really settled into indulging in after so much time alone and transient. It's wild to feel safe enough to put down roots.

Part of the roots he's put down include the particular place the bar that's become his which just so happens to be exactly next to where Dirk is sitting. Unspoken social code would say to leave space between him and literally the only other person currently in the shop, but Ford Pines has never cared much for unspoken social rules. He just settles himself right the fuck down as though that's a totally normal thing to do, sit next to a guy you've punched on multiple occasions. A shiny Vulpix with a practically nonexistant mane and equally stumpy tails trots in after him and with minimal difficulty scrambles her way up onto his lap.

The Braixen behind the bar pauses and lifts a paw in greeting, which he returns.

"The usual, Foxfire, thank you."

How quaint, to have a usual.

[uber_marionettist]

Dirk is not, by any definition, a man versed in unspoken social rules. Still, there are a couple of things he's learned he can expect. Space, for example, in a nearly-empty restaurant. So when Ford enters, he's mostly ignoring the sound of another person coming in the door. He is alert to it, but he's so focused on his mean--the sensory experience of it, the fullness of flavours, the rhythm of its consumption--that he doesn't really clock the physical presence until Ford is almost right behind him.

By the time Ford's pulled out a chair, though, Dirk has hastily--and uncomfortably, with a solid, painful sensation in his throat and behind his collarbone--swallowed his mouthful and has moved onto using every ounce of concentration to determinedly feign indifference to the body sitting down maybe onn entire foot away--

Wait.

What--

What the fuck?

Recognising Ford sends him into an immediate spiral of confusion and doubt. He assumes, immediately, that this is a deliberate move. The real question is why.

Last he saw the man, which (come to think of it) had also been a surprise, Ford had surprised him yet further when he claimed that he didn't hold a grudge, and felt no need to 'deal' with Dirk if he wasn't actively making trouble. The frankly unprecedented reasonableness of the idea aside, the ambiguous and subjective quality of the stipulation--"not actively causing trouble"--had left Dirk still feeling wary, if tentatively more secure. At the very least, he could skip on avoiding Ford outright in favour of keeping an eye out, and maybe treat even that as a purely precautionary measure, provided he minded himself in other measures.

And now this.

But hey: by the time Ford has identified the Pokemon behind the counter by name and established a 'usual' order of any kind, Dirk is no longer thinking about that headache at all.

[meteorman]

Ford has no idea what a 'power move' is, let alone that he's just made one. He is utterly oblivious to Dirk's racing thought process. That's probably why he turns to directly address him like this is still just a totally normal interaction.

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

So soon, like it wasn't several months ago the last time they talked. When you're nearly seventy time feels like it goes by a lot faster, all things considered.

[uber_marionettist]

Is that a threat?

Dirk honestly can't tell.

He has two options: ignore Ford and keep eating like he's completely unaffected and unfazed by his presence, or else come up with something sharp right now to justify a pause in his expert ramen ritual--

He does not come up with anything fast enough, and so Ford will have a good couple minutes of stony silence from Dirk while he continues conveying the rest of his ramen and broth into his mouth at anime-adjacent speeds.

[meteorman]

Huh.

Ford has experienced intimidation tactics of all shapes and sizes before, but he can't say anyone's ever tried one quite like this on him. Being aggressively slurped at is new, and it's always an interesting day when he encounters something well and truly new. Luckily he has the good sense not to just... like... sit there staring into Dirk's eyes the whole time. Instead he pulls out a small notebook, one of approximately 500 he's been gifted with over the years, and draws idly while he considers how best to proceed.

Silence can be a sign of indifference, but he doesn't think that's it. He wouldn't describe Dirk as indifferent to much considering what he's seen of Dirk. So it must be annoyance, or perhaps expectation of something further than a simple greeting. Or both.

"... are you still angry about all the times I've punched you?"

Listen. It's the most simple answer, and that probably means it's right.

[uber_marionettist]

Dirk sits for a second, noodles still in his mouth.

It's not until he almost speaks that he remembers they're there and moves to actually swallow them.

The timing is not unlike one of his Japanese animes.

"No?" It comes out more confused than he meant to be, and he has to recover fast.

"Those were pretty reasonable. I mean--" One side of his mouth twists slightly, and it's not entirely clear if that's supposed to become a smile or a frown. Only a few noodle fragments and a single stray narutomaki (in the thematically apropos and extremely adorable shape of a Poliwag) remain to drift slowly around his bowl.

"I don't expect people not to oppose the shit I do."

On the floor, his bag falls over and he pushes it aside with his foot.

"So I'm not really mad. It screwed up my shit, yeah, but I have met me. I get it."