Saint opens his eyes with ease, relieved to find himself in the shade. After a few days without sleep, he’s uncertain how well his sight could take natural sunlight. But these aren’t his real eyes. They see the world without borders.

He turns at the sound of a woman’s voice. “Oh, yes. I am…” She looked so real. They hadn’t been kidding about how they’d pulled all the stops in this game, though there’s no way for him to tell if this is the quality they’d intended, since the equipment he’s using is… sub-optimal. But he flexes his fingers, tugs the plush collar around his neck that’s tall enough to obscure his mouth, and thinks this will do nicely.

The poster on the wall is familiar. Saint is not a die-hard pokemon fan, but it had its presence in his childhood. Most of the little critters there are familiar, but anything past the Sun and Moon generation is lost on him.

He listens quietly and attentively as the professor dictates what will happen next, his hands feeling strangely empty. He feels like he should be taking notes.

At her smile, some of his nervousness eases. “Understood. I’ll take the test… Uh. M-ma’am,” he quickly amends, inclining his head, because Professor Ash reminds him a lot of the stricter professors in his courses, and if he’s learned anything in his abysmal experience in higher education, it’s that even the little details can mean the tipping point for a teacher’s good graces.

“A natural talent…” Saint mulls it over, his eyes trailing from the Professor to a corner of the room. He knows his skills, the things he can do because he’d spent hours practicing and planning. But a talent insinuates effortlessness, doesn’t it? “Does… organization count? No, that’s more of a skill…” And then it comes to him. He’d forgotten. “Swimming. Surfing, to a degree. I took to both faster than any of my siblings, but it has been a long time since I visited the beach.”

The second question he has no trouble with. “No. That’s unsanitary.” He’s always been particular about cleanliness, but there is still some doubt in the back of his head. Had he done it? During those harsh times? Was he so ashamed he blocked it from his memory?

Saint blinks, and does not show his growing internal panic.

His effort is ruined by the time he’s asked the third question. “Do I have to answer that?” He says, voice going up a pitch, and head going down into his collar. There’s no blushing with his complexion, but his embarrassment is clear in literally everything else. With his big saucer eyes, he looks exactly like the cat from Vanessa Stockard’s paintings.

He does, eventually, manage to answer, but he’s still sunk into the collar, so it comes out tiny and muffled. “I guess somewhere… quiet. I just. I’m fine with anything. If I’m going out with them, then I already like them for who they are, so… so the other stuff is…”

He stares pleadingly at the professor to move on.

Saint accepts the Pokeball in both gloved hands. Poking the button in the center causes it to pop open, something falling out that he barely manages to catch in his arms.

A dog blinks up at him. A little blue dog with the body of a sea lion. “Oh. You’re a strange one, aren’t you?” he says absently, adjusting to carry him as if he were a baby. The pokemon—Popplio, which he recalls to be a starter from the Alola games—smiles wide, before moving to press his bright pink nose on his cheek.

Honk!

It startles a small laugh out of Saint. “And cute. I should… name you. hm…” As Saint falls into contemplation, the popplio appears wholly unbothered, preoccupying himself by blowing little bubbles from his nose and pulling silly faces.

He considered continuing after his username, but naming something so cute after saints or biblical figures just seemed ridiculous. And he was a sweet pokemon with that big nose so… “Gumball?” he says as if asking the popplio. “Would you be okay with that name?”

The popplio looks at him, still smiling, and he opens his mouth. Saint’s attention is grabbed; right, he had chosen ‘Yes’ for Pokemon Speech, so maybe this will—

Honk! HonkhonkhonkhonkhonkHONK!

The popplio begins repeatedly jamming his nose in Saint’s cheek, releasing a flurry of honks appropriate for clown traffic. Saint laughs, having to hold the little popplio’s face away to stop him. It’s still concerning how his pokemon has yet to speak, but he seems happy. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Saint turns, a little flustered, Gumball still cradled in his arms. “Sorry, professor. I got distracted. Thank you for giving me my starter.”