InsaneJournal

Who: Tas and Kenzi
What: Pokéhunting!
When: Recently
Where: Along the pier
Rating/Warning: Low/none
Status: Complete


Four hundred candies. Four freakin’ hundred candies. It was a sick joke, really, that it’d take so much Magikarp hunting to evolve the ‘pathetic excuse for a Pokemon’ (words directly taken from the PokeDex, mind you, she wasn’t being totally heartless here) into the ferocious, serpentine dragon-faced creature that was known as Gyarados. Yet everyone at a local gym seemed to have one - that and a Lapras, what even? - and it was like, rubbing salt on the wound or something.

“Man, you’d think being shacked up in a marina would give me all the water types,” grumbled the petite thief, dressed in comfortable boots meant for walking with casual (but stylish!) clothing for their outdoor excursion of hunting digital creatures. “Oh, well - did I mention we’re moving? Killian and I. Him and his ladyfriend have taken that ‘next step’ in a relationship and we’re gonna be under her ginormous roof. Houseboat’s gonna be the station of our private investigations.”

Kenzi had taken Tasslehoff to the Newport Beach boardwalk, aligned with shops and restaurants to their right hand side (which also meant PokeStops!), and the wide open Pacific on their left. Rumors of a Dratini nest had been fluttering through the air, but for the moment she was getting mostly Psyducks.

Wouldn’t it make more sense if Psyduck was called Golduck and Golduck was called Psyduck, though? Like, seriously. Think about it.

“Well, it wouldn’t be any fun if you just caught them all in one go,” Tas said sagely. Truth was, he usually forgot he had the game unless he was hanging out with his friends who also played it. He’d started off on the level with most people, but now he was seeing people in the gyms whose levels were way into the twenties, and he was still stuck at level ten. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t still enjoy going out with Kenzi and throwing pokeballs at the little creatures. He didn’t have much desire to fight in gyms anyway, which meant the whole level thing was hardly very important.

“With Regina?” he asked, surprised. “Oh, how exciting! Are you going to talk to her about redecorating? Maybe some more skulls, or a demon or two? Just to give the place a big of magical flair?” For someone as mean and magical as Regina, her house had seemed rather boring when Tas had gone to visit. As a Close Personal Friend to Regina, Killian, and Kenzi (well, Killian and Kenzi more so. Regina was more of a Close Personal Acquaintance, though he was sure that would change with time), he thought it was important that he helped them make proper decorating decisions.

More skulls. A demon or two, Tas says. Kenzi blinked those wintry blue eyes from her phone to the now-tinier man that he was. What the hell goes on in his head, she wondered? “Well, I know her house is also her office, so the demons and the skulls of her enemies sort of decor? Probably puts a damper on business, just sayin’.”

That’s why she kept the creepy voodoo stuff down below, anyway - but it wasn’t her house to dictate on decor and she’d agreed to follow Killian, since he was the reason why she was here to begin with. It’d be a permanent set up for him but not for her; eventually, she’d probably spread her own wings but for the moment, home was a half of her beating heart and his name was Bubba. “But if you wanna make a suggestion, by all meaaaans, Tassy.”

Kenzi would watch the carnage rain with goggles and a poncho.

“On the witch business? If anything, I’d think it would help.” Because, of course, if someone had magic at their fingertips, why would they bother with a regular old job? Tas certainly didn’t have magic, and he had no intention of ever having one of those boring things.

Then again, Raistlin had magic, and he still had a job. “Unless she does something - Oh, I think my game is being all glitchy again. Look at what it did to this poor Pokemon,” Tas asked, glancing at his phone as it vibrated in his head. He turned it toward Kenzi, a Polygon on the screen.

“No, no, on the -” WAIT. What was - ? “That’s not a glitch!” No, definitely wasn’t something creepy like MissingNo from the first game generations, and to emphasize the urgency of the situation she gave a slap to Tas’ arm. “Toss a ball at it! Give it a razz berry!”

Bitches loved the razz berry.

But it showed up on her screen too, and her fingers swiped vertically across her phone in an attempt to catch it. A great ball wouldn’t cut it, an ultra ball with more fruit tossed its way wouldn’t cut it, and then -

Poof.

Just like that, it ran.

Like it was too good for its home.

Kenzi made a motion like she was about to toss her phone into the concrete, but didn’t.

“It’s not?” Tas said, squinting at the screen. Well, if Kenzi said as much. It took a couple of throws, and just as many razz berries like Kenzi said, but he was able to catch it and let out a cheerful whoop once the Gotcha! text popped up. “You know, if you do that, you might actually throw your phone into the sidewalk, and I don’t think you’d like that very much.”

GAAAAH. Kenzi really, really wanted to smash her stupid phone on the cement but okay, let’s not get hasty, it was just a game. Yeah. Just a game, that she spent hours on and made her actually walk around (she could be taking a nap right now, she’ll have you know!) and put out effort. Her eyes went to Tas, a little exasperated because of course, the guy that didn’t know how rare - yet kinda useless - that Pokemon was just happened to catch it.

If there was a Team Rocket sect in this game, she’d join and jack it.

“I won’t,” she pouted. Sigh. Another day, Porygon. Another day. “Anyway, how’s it adjusting to the, umm...smaller side of life?”

Tas frowned. There wasn’t a lot that upset him, but waking up one day at only 3’9” was really, reallyeverything required a stool nowadays. He’d thought his previous 5’4” was short, but he apparently had no idea.

But on the bright side, slipping through small windows and disappearing into small spaces when someone was screaming at him for being a thief was a lot easier. “Mostly annoying,” Tas said, frowning. “I mean, I guess I’m getting used to it. And the dreams sure made it easier to adjust. But everything’s so tall now. And no one wants to sell me alcohol anymore.”

Bahahahaha. Okay, he was frowning, it wasn’t funny, Kenzi. It was why she bit her lip, trying to quiet down her snickers and making sure her lips didn’t spread into a grin. It mostly worked. “You have an ID on you, right? And I’m guessing it’s valid - most places have some kind of thing that checks the authenticity behind it nowadays. You probably qualify as a midget now? Like, in the legal sense. I think that’s a thing. If some place discriminates, you can kick up a storm for a hate crime.”

What? She could see how it could suck being that itty bitty - she was pretty sure she could give him a piggyback ride without trouble - but he needed to fight for his right to have alcohol, goddanmit.

“My ID still says I’m 5’4”,” Tas sniffed. “I mean, most people don’t check that, especially once I give them my Old Man face.” He demonstrated, bringing his eyebrows together and a smile that brought far more wrinkles than any twenty-five year old should have to his face, yet another kender trait to add to his pointed ears and sudden shortness. For now, they didn’t really show up, but he knew in a few years his face would be wrinkle city every time he smiled. Which really wasn’t so bad. It was kind of funny, actually.

He grinned. “I could kick up a fuss though! You know, I’m close personal friends with the President. I bet he’d have words to say to these bars if I mentioned it!”

Ahhh, Tas. Sweet, darling, miniature-sized, pointy-eared and wrinklyfaced Tas. Kenzi caught herself before even making the ‘tsk, tsk’ sounds but she put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Tas, babycakes, T-Bone - don’t flaunt your amazing connections. Not many know how to appreciate ‘em, y’know??” Also, she didn’t want them to laugh him out of the bar. Or toss him out like he was a pest, considering his size - she really didn’t know the inner-mechanics of his mind, and she probably didn’t want to, but she could appreciate the innocent delusion that was Tasslehoff Burrfoot.

Though, now it begged the question - and really, she was just curious to see what tall tale he’d spin. “How do you know Obama, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s a really exciting story!” Tas said cheerfully. “This was years and years ago, before he became president! I was walking in a park, when I saw this little girl. We got to chatting and became friends, and then out of no where this huge beast ran up to us. It had three heads, and its eyes burned with a hellish fire! From its rows and rows of sharp teeth - in all three heads - dripped acid. I knew I had to protect the little girl, because she was only little. ‘Get behind me,’ I told her, and she did. And drawing a sword - a magic sword. Like my Rabbitslayer,” he said, drawing the dagger that mysteriously always appeared in his belt whenever he left the house. It looked almost long enough to be a short sword compared to Tas’ short stature. He stepped forward, doing a couple of quick parries in the air as if he was actually fighting the beast, though there was nothing around but a couple of bewildered pedestrians, “but it wasn’t Rabbitslayer because I didn’t have it then. Actually, I got Rabbitslayer from my dreams, from an old temple after we were attacked by a dragon. Anyway, I drew my sword, and we had a fierce battle before the beast was finally vanquish and returned from the hell from whence it came. Then the president, though he wasn’t the president then, ran up! ‘Oh, brave Tasslehoff,’ he told me, ‘you have rescued my daughter, and I’m forever in your debt. If anyone ever gives you trouble, just let me know, and I’ll sock it to ‘em.’”

Uhhhhhhhhh.

Kenzi was stopped in her tracks, consumed in sheer and utter awe.

One could interpret it in a way to say that she was speechless with the impressive tale Tas wove, breathless from his story of bravery and heroism. On another hand, one could interpret it as Kenzi figuring out if he really, really believed that story or not because he spoke about it like he felt it to be true.

Then, she wondered about what kind of drugs he routinely did.

Eventually, the daze was blinked from her eyes. “Wow,” she began. “Thanks, Obama?”

To Tas, truth was a malleable object. If the truth was a little boring, well, there was nothing wrong with sprucing it up to make it more interesting. It wasn’t lying. It wasn’t even bending the truth. It was just a different truth. So while someone might remember stumbling across a small girl who was terrified of a stray dog and scaring away the dog, getting thanked by the father, and then seeing either that man or a man who looked remarkably like him on TV two years later being sworn in as president, Tas’s version was just as true to him.

He was pleased to see the awed and clearly delighted look on Kenzi’s face. It was nice to know that he hadn’t lost his ability to captivate people with his wonderful tales. “Right? Though I haven’t asked him to sort anyone out for me yet. He’s probably really busy, running everything and all. I guess you’re right. I probably shouldn’t call him just to settle a bar dispute.”

“If you need a bar dispute settled, Killy and I got your back, smalls,” Kenzi pat-patted, just giving into the entire ordeal because there was no way in hell anyone could reason with Tas. Can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. “Just call us before you start mentioning the president to people, alright??”

That’d be one hell of a night.

But anyway, back on topic - she urged him forward, onto the more sandy parts of the boardwalk. “Now c’mon, dude, there’s a Tentacruel around these parts and I’m going to make that tentacle monster mine.”