There's a pause of a few seconds before the door opens.

"Good afternoon," says the girl on the other side.

“Ah—good afternoon, mademoiselle,” he says, smiling.

(They never told him they had another child.)

“Is Tiernan at home?”

"Yes. May I ask your business with him?"

“Oh! Pardon me!”

Hmm.

“I’m Professor Sycamore. I’m here to speak to him about assisting me on his journey.”

"Oh!" She beams at him, transformed in an instant from a polite little lady to a bubbly fifteen-year-old. "He'll be so thrilled! Just a moment, I'll fetch him for you."

She closes the door gently, and footsteps can be heard receding rapidly into the house; then the footsteps return, accompanied by the girl's half-audible voice saying "—at least long enough to get out of town—"

And then Tiernan opens the door. He's practically vibrating with excitement. "Hi!"

This is one of the best parts of his job.

“Hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you in person—shall I come in?”

"Sure!"

He enters, finds the nearest possible seat.

“Now, I’m not sure if I’m mistaken, but if there are two of you...mademoiselle, are you going to be joining your—brother?”

She shakes her head. "I'm not nearly so adventurous, and our parents would worry about me if I went that far from home."

“...is that so.”

“—well, I suppose it’s a good thing that Aquacorde is so close by.”

He takes the bag off his shoulder and starts to rummage through it, coming up with three glossy new pokéballs.

Tiernan, sitting on the couch, bounces eagerly.

“All right—well, your parents let me know that you don’t have a Pokémon of your own, so I brought a few from the lab for you to choose between. This first one is Chespin, Marisson—”

He thumbs the button on the first ball.

Light arcs out of the pokéball and a tiny ball of brown fur appears on the floor.

It looks up, sniffs the air and blinks its big black eyes, the — feelers? ears — on the side of its head twitching curiously.

Then it beams, scampers up to the twins and begins to investigate their legs.

"Aww, cute," says the girl.

“This is Froakie, Grenousse—”

He taps the next button.

A small, shining blue amphibian with a collar of bubbles. It pats them into place, as if it’s self-conscious about its looks, and watches them both warily.

Ee.

Tiernan smiles, charmed half by the pokemon and half by his sister's delighted reaction to them.

“And this is Fennekin. Feunnec.”

He hits the last button.

A little yellow creature emerges, with a paintbrush tail and enormous floofy ears. The ears are practically the same size as the entire rest of the creature.

The girl puts her hands over her mouth. "Tiny feet," she whispers between her fingers.

"Tiny feet!!!!" Tiernan agrees emphatically.

The tiny-feeted creature takes a few delicate steps toward the siblings and regards them with curious amber eyes.

“If you’d like to pet her—mind her body language, of course, if her ears go back leave her be—”

Tiernan leans forward and holds out his hand.

She puts her head under his hand and directs him to scratch behind her ears.

"Awwwwwwww."

“—well, this seems like a match well-made!”

He’s clearly thrilled.

“Assuming she’s the one you’d like?”

The Chespin has become incredibly intrigued by Persephone’s shoe—

—and the Froakie has found a very convenient table leg from behind which to peer and blow quiet bubbles.

"I love her and her ridiculous ears and her tiny feet!" Petpetpet.

Persephone can't seem to decide which of these spectacles she is most charmed by.

“Then...congratulations! Your first Pokémon!”

He hands over her ball.

“Would you like to give her a name?”

"Oh, I'm no good at naming things."

Her ears are so soft. What a good little creature she is.

“Well, as long as you’re so affectionate with her, I’m sure she’ll be happy.”

He turns to Persephone, studies her carefully.

“...do you happen to have a Pokémon of your own?”

She shakes her head.

None of these things are enough to report.

But he has a gut feeling he would deeply regret ignoring.

“...well. Would you like one of these two?”

"Oh!" she says, surprised and pleased. "I—well—"

She looks between the two remaining creatures, and then leans tentatively toward Froakie.

Froakie looks briefly shocked, and then puffs itself up proudly behind its table leg.

He laughs and withdraws the Chespin, tucking its ball back into his bag, before he hands Froakie’s ball to her.

“I don’t believe I know your name, mademoiselle...?”

"Persephone. Thank you so much."

She smiles at her new small bubbly friend.

It takes a few tentative hops out towards her and emits an odd little chirpy croak.

“Of course. Pokémon like these aren’t just for the adventurous, you know. It’s good to have a friend who’s always in your corner.”

She glances sideways at her brother and nods. "Yes," she agrees. "It is."

He looks up from petting his Feunnec and examines Froakie, looking back and forth a few times between the creature and his sister.

Then he says, "Yeah, I think you'll take good care of each other."

It’s a wonderful thing to watch.

“I can send you a few care instructions, if you need them — here —”

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small, slightly beaten-up notepad and a pen, scribbles a phone number and hands it off to her.

“I’ve lost my business cards somewhere again— please call me if you have any questions.”

Or if you need any help.

"I will!" she assures him. "Thank you so much."

"Of course. If that Pokémon has a good home, that's its own reward."

He turns back to Tiernan.

"Now, I also have this for you–"

He reaches into his bag, and removes a square of red metal and glass, holding it out for him.

"–for the 'research' part of this journey. Are you very familiar with what a Pokédex does?"

"Only vaguely."

"Ah! Well."

He leans forward, laces his fingers under his chin.

"The abbreviated version is – if you encounter a Pokémon in the wild, or with another trainer, the Pokédex will retrieve some information about its species for you. If you catch a Pokémon – and your Pokédex will pair automatically with Pokéballs on your person, you don't need to worry about that – it will record more detailed information on that single Pokémon and send it back to the database. You can make notes yourself, too, if you're so inclined."

"Huh. Cool."

“Isn’t it just?”

—now is not the time to gush! There’s more to be done.

“Forgive me, but I have to ask — you’re familiar with the mechanics of catching a Pokémon?”

"Kiiiinda?"

"Ah–"

"–well, if you'd like to follow me out to Aquacorde, I can demonstrate that for you. It's a good place to buy supplies, too, if there's anything else you need."

"That'd be nice!"

"Then...I know this might seem abrupt, but have you packed all the things you'll be taking with you?"

"Yep! Seph, where'd I leave my—"

She's already getting up to fetch it from the next room.

"—backpack. I love you."

She sets the hefty camping bag down next to his feet, looks at him for a moment, and then pulls him up off the couch and hugs him tightly.

"I'll miss you."

"Yeah. Me too."

Hugs.

Feunnec makes a concerned chirping noise.

"Aww, don't worry about us, we'll be okay."

He pulls away from the hug and picks up his bag.

Feunnec eyes him thoughtfully as he puts on the backpack, and then jumps onto him and scampers up to perch on top of it. What an excitingly lofty vantage! She shall be ruler of all she surveys!

(He giggles.)

He can’t help but laugh a little himself.

“...I can wait outside for a moment, if you’d like.”

"Nah, let's go."

He nods.

“Au revoir, then, mademoiselle. Take care of yourself.”

He heads for the door.

Tiernan follows.

And Persephone closes the door behind them.

“Would you prefer to wait for the bus or walk the route? We’ll arrive before dark either way...”

He doubts he’ll have a particular need to walk — it’s such a manicured route that there are barely any wild Pokémon to be found, and he’s probably walked the distance hundreds of times before, given one can do it without any protection. Best to ask, though.

"I like walking better than waiting."

“A good quality in a Pokémon trainer! Walking it is!”

And they head off, towards the pleasant stone path that leads to Aquacorde town.

Feunnec puts her front paws on Tiernan's head to lift herself up so she can see where they're going.

He giggles again.

It’s a gorgeous day on the road. Occasionally, someone passes them walking back from Aquacorde, some with Pokémon at their sides even on the safe path. Children just old enough to travel without a parent move in packs, talking amongst themselves.

After a minute of walking, he speaks, carefully.

“I think you would know best. If your parents happen to speak to me again, should I mention some of the care requirements for Froakie — having him taken out to battle, that sort of thing — or shall I leave it to her judgement?”

He’s more used to talking around this sort of question than he would like.

"Oh, Seph's really good at that kind of thing. I'm sure she'll get it all sorted out herself."

“Of course.”

No word to the parents about the Pokémon, then.

“As long as we’re out here...do you have any questions for me?”

"I... probably should but I can't think of any?"

"Well! You can always reach me if you think of something. It can be difficult before you've even begun."

He's content to walk with him towards Aquacorde in companionable silence, if there's nothing he has to say, occasionally pointing out a Pokémon's cry or a particularly lovely bit of greenery when it strikes him.

Tiernan follows cheerfully. He seems to enjoy the occasional nature commentary, although he doesn't offer any of his own.

They arrive just as the sun begins to dip.

Aquacorde is a quiet little town, but compared to Vaniville, it's a metropolis. They walk down a long row of stucco houses and low apartments, past the occasional row of tables set outside a café or a grocer sweeping in front of a corner market.

Sycamore stops them to duck into one of the little cafés, and comes back out with a paper-wrapped sandwich apiece.

Sandwiches!! Tiernan welcomes this news with a delighted bounce, and tears off a corner of sandwich to offer to his passenger before he has any himself. It seems polite.

"Here, d'you want—" and then he pauses, hand halfway raised, to glance at Prof. Sycamore for confirmation. "Or, should I not? Is people food bad for her?"

Friendship!

He takes a moment to look the sandwich over.

"Don't give her chocolate, grapes or onions — ah, or walnuts — but this should be just fine for her."

"All right, I'll do my best." He finishes raising the morsel to a passenger-accessible height.

She sniffs it dubiously, nibbles, then snarfs the rest and curls up happily atop his backpack.

Friendship achieved, he munches on the rest of the sandwich.

He laughs, charmed.

“You’ve made friends quickly!”

"I like her! She has a personality. And tiny feet."