[Mini-Meta][PRP] Drudge Work!

[sharkberrypizza]

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?"

Cass swore under their breath as they shifted another scrap of wreckage and found not one but two small, burrowing pokémon hiding amidst the flotsam. Well, that was a new one. They'd expected rats to be living in the piles of shite on the land, but not the water - even if it was just a very short distance from the beach, yet - after another barely uttered swear - the pair were tucked away inside temporary homes, waiting to be released later.

Either through their own channels or, more likely, the centre in Nauwill, but whatever. The rats wouldn't be their problem for long. The trainer couldn't bear to leave them there any longer than that - even if it wasn't the day's job, just the thought they'd starve or sink ...

"That's better, innit." they murmured, curling an arm around the lapras they sat perched on top of.

They lifted a hand to their ear, tapping once on the earbud firmly planted there.

"How's it comin' over there?" they called to their partner on the other end. "Found two more rats floatin' on the -- oh what? Hang on."

Squinting, Cass stared hard toward the horizon, a deep breath following - and then a flick of a wrist after. As quick as that a rescue ball landing, then floating, on top of the water nearby.

"Make that three. They're really everywhere, huh?"

 

[astralprogenitor]

"If I never see another rattata in my life it'll be too soon."

This was not the kind of work he'd expected to be doing. He'd come to Nauwill to practice his craft and maybe do some favors for his friend, maybe help rehome or rehabilitate some escaped invasives, a few things here or there but not spending days on a beach cleaning up junk and debris from who knows where. Tarou's lip curled in annoyance as he deftly snagged a half-curled tail before it disappeared under a pile of broken ship fragments for the third time, this time simply yanking the creature out before shoving a ball against its face as it squealed in anger.

"Shut up, ya lil' shit. Yer gonna die if y'stay out here - do ya wanna be eaten by a sharpedo or a pelipper or something?"

A slight quirk turned up in his lips as the pokémon disappeared into its temporary home. They weren't the brightest things, but they got the message well enough. Either that or he was just intimidating enough to make the ball more appealing than a fight - who could tell? And more importantly, did he even care? He understood why they were frightened all too well - he'd certainly weathered his fair share of horrors in his days, but he also simply didn't have the patience to coddle them.

He was hot, over-sunned, and starting to get hungry, but there were still plenty of places to check and clean. He was glad, at least, that the settlers had been organized into a moderately cohesive search and cleaning crew, so it wasn't as though just a few Fairlight employees were expected to handle the mess, but he was already past his fill of the dirty work as it was.

"That's four this way, an' a pidove that won't stop tryin'a land on me, though I can't catch the lil' brat. Maybe it'll sit still for you - I've never been much for uh, catchin' pokémon. Not really my thing."

He paused, for the sixth time that day pulling his hair down only to rearrange it in a tighter bun; a sour expression crossed his face - the sea air was trying to make an absolute mess out of the silky strands, and the work wasn't doing "keeping it up" any favors.

"How's the flotsam situation out there? Think I'm gonna let the boys out to help me start draggin' these hunks of metal upshore. Somethin' big went down in that storm, eh?"

 

[sharkberrypizza]

"Heh, yeah. Makes me wonder what kinda storm it really was."

The tone of Tarou's voice gave so much away that the call was entirely worth it on that alone. Hot, bothered, probably hungry knowing him - all things they could imagine from such a grouch. Who could really blame the guy though? Cass wasn't much for direct sun either, vastly preferring a cool, air conditioned flat and the glowing screen of a monitor to the beach and getting sea salt and sand stuck in whatever crevices they'd find showering later.

Midnight liked it though, so it ... just became a little easier to swallow.

"Think I'm about done." they conceded, stroking the lapras along the back of her head before patting once - a silent signal to grab the junk and head toward the shore. "Bringing in the last of this section for the junk heap now. Just entertain your friend a few more minutes and I'll get 'em."

A sharp splash of paddle fins and a short cry of complaint followed the words.

"Make that five flyin' rats and three regular ones. I can't wait to get to shore."