Chapter 240: Mammon, Let's Video Call Tonight — Caitlin Is in a Wonderful Mood
Two days passed.
A private dining room in a Nimbasa City restaurant.
"If Alder asks about any of this, just tell him the truth and put the blame on me." Mammon took a sip of pineapple juice. "Say I took you. I already told him that much, so the story's consistent."
"I know." Elesa understood. Alder had already been told it was a kidnapping. He didn't need to hear the update about her current employment status. A Gym Leader voluntarily joining Team Rocket was the kind of information that would complicate things she didn't want complicated, starting with the Gym Leader position itself.
Even the most understanding regional Champion had limits, and "oh by the way I've joined the organization I was taken by" was past most of them.
"And this." Mammon produced a Poké Ball and handed it across the table.
Elesa's eyes caught it immediately. A Love Ball — the pink kind. From Mammon.
"It's an Ultra Beast called Xurkitree. Not the strongest individual, but excellent natural talent. You focus on Electric-types, right? Problem is there aren't many Electric-types with high base strength."
He was thinking as he talked.
Electric was a type that looked better on paper than it translated to practical options. The obvious answer — Pikachu — was genuinely not the answer. Pikachu's actual stat distribution was modest. What made Ash's Pikachu and Red's Pikachu exceptional wasn't the species; it was who had spent years developing them. Both of those trainers would have made any Pokémon exceptional.
This was the thing people kept getting backwards. The special variable was almost always the trainer, not the Pokémon. Giovanni's Beedrill, which had shocked everyone at Rustboro — it was a Beedrill, which nobody would have listed as a serious candidate. But it was Giovanni's Beedrill, which changed the assessment entirely. The examples were everywhere once you looked for them.
So for Elesa — where her current development was solid but not exceptional — giving her something with high baseline stats made more sense than giving her something she'd have to develop to an absurd degree to make relevant. Xurkitree's Beast Boost ability was a multiplier. Give it to a trainer who improves consistently and it compounds nicely.
"Xurkitree can realistically be your featured ace," Mammon said. "And as for how you explain it to anyone who asks — say it was something I gave you during the kidnapping. Alder's not going to make a thing out of it."
"Understood."
Elesa held the Love Ball in her palm. She was aware that a gift from Mammon, delivered in this setting, after the past several weeks, carried registers beyond its practical value.
She was not going to examine those registers right now.
Her eyes were doing something warm. She was managing it.
"And when the right opportunity comes up, I'll find you something else that fits your training style."
Mammon finished his pineapple juice. He was already thinking about the problem abstractly — it was an interesting constraint, actually, Electric-type with high ceiling and appropriate learning curve for where Elesa currently was. He'd solve it eventually.
Elesa set down her fork. Looked at him for a moment with those large, clear eyes. Then she stood, leaned across the table, and pressed a brief, light kiss to his cheek.
Mammon raised an eyebrow.
On his other side, Caitlin's ambient temperature dropped approximately five degrees.
"Video call tonight, if you have time," Elesa said, and turned and walked out, the kind of walk that had made her career and was currently doing other things entirely.
The moment she was through the door she pressed both hands to her face.
What did I just do.
Her cheeks were warm. She hadn't planned that. She didn't do things she hadn't planned. This was a documented new behavior and she was going to need to think about it later.
She composed herself with professional speed, put the Love Ball in her bag, and walked out of the restaurant and into the Nimbasa air.
There she was. Back in Nimbasa. Elesa of the Nimbasa Gym, world-famous model, now also technically a Team Rocket executive.
One of these things was not going to appear on her professional biography.
She touched her stomach lightly, just once, thinking about certain possibilities with a kind of detached curiosity that wasn't quite as detached as she was pretending.
We'll see.
She walked toward the Gym with her customary stride — the one that made onlookers take note — and felt the city settle around her like a familiar coat.
A short while later, Mammon and Caitlin left the restaurant.
Mammon's mood was unaffected. He was thinking about the Swords of Justice situation, idly, and whether his search teams would have anything useful before they left Unova entirely.
Caitlin walked beside him.
She was smiling. From the outside, it looked like her usual serene expression.
From closer inspection — and Mammon was close enough — there were indicators that the smile was doing more work than usual.
That woman.
Had the absolute nerve.
In front of me.
And Mammon just sat there.
She kissed his cheek. She did that. Right there. In front of me.
I have not—
Not that I would—
The point is that—
Caitlin took a slow, quiet breath and made sure her expression didn't change.
She was fine.
She was perfectly fine.
"Come shopping with me," Mammon said. "New dress. You've been wearing that one for two days."
Caitlin blinked.
He'd noticed.
He'd noticed how many times she'd worn a specific dress.
"Mm," she said, in a tone that conveyed agreement without conveying that her heart rate had just done something.
They found a shop nearby. The kind with good light and sensible organization and a staff member who understood her role without being instructed in it.
Caitlin took three dresses into the fitting room and came out in the first.
White. Simple cut, no embellishment. Fitted at the waist with a soft sash that showed the line of her figure. Her hair down and long, drifting slightly at the ends — she didn't explain this to the saleswoman, who could attribute it to ambient air movement if she liked.
"How is it?"
Mammon turned.
He looked at her.
"Beautiful," he said. "Like something out of a fairy story."
"Oh, your boyfriend has excellent taste," the saleswoman said immediately, with the enthusiasm of someone who had identified a very good situation. "I've never seen anyone wear this particular piece quite like you do. You two together—" she gestured between them, "—going out in this, you'd stop traffic."
Caitlin heard boyfriend.
She glanced at Mammon.
Mammon didn't correct it.
He was looking at the dress she was still holding and hadn't reacted to the word.
He hadn't corrected it.
Caitlin turned back toward the fitting room before the smile could become visible.
"I like the selection here," she said, to the wall.
"I'll take all of them."
"I'm sorry?" The saleswoman's voice shifted register.
"White, pink, and black. Whatever's in my size. Wrap them all."
A pause.
"Of course!" The saleswoman recovered admirably. "You two will be so happy together, I can feel it!"
"Thank you," Caitlin said, light and even.
She had originally planned white and pink. She was adding black because Mammon wore black constantly and she had recently noticed she looked quite good in black and this was a separate, unrelated decision that had nothing to do with anything.
She was an objectively beautiful person. Black simply suited her. That was the whole story.
The saleswoman was still beaming when Caitlin finished her transaction.
Outside, in the Nimbasa afternoon, Caitlin held a collection of shopping bags and felt the particular quality of good mood that results from a chain of small things going well.
Boyfriend.
He didn't correct it.
She was going to be in an excellent mood for the rest of the day.
(End of Chapter)
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