[h2][center][u][b]Briney Cottage - Route 104S[/b][/u][/center][/h2][quote]	Leodin was into his food, oblivious to the stranger joining them that morning. Briney simply gave a confused look and glanced at his son in an attempt to gather any clues as to the purpose of the apology. All he saw was a contented, if rather eager, boy shoving various breakfast foods into, and onto, his face. Fredrick brought a napkin to the boy's mouth, passively insisting he pay closer attention to how he ate.
	Fredrick looked back up at the stranger, who'd begun to tentatively bring food to his mouth instead of just picking at it. He decided to not respond to the apology and just silently accept the gesture. He brought a cool glass of juice to his lips when the stranger began to speak again.
	An amused huff was pushed from his lungs. "Aye," he said through a soft, yet coarse, chuckle. This was to the monologue "Cloud" had just performed. But he shook his head, silently apologuzing for letting down a man who he'd just saved from likely death.
	"I'm gon' t' Oldale wit' muh son t'day. He want's me t' watch a demonstration with him."
	He pointed his chin, signalling for the boy to get washed and dressed now that he'd finished his breakfast. "You're more 'n' welcome t' come along."
	The table gave way to Briney's legs as he rose from his seat, the same motion grinding the chair across the floor behind him. The plates dinged and rang as they were gathered from the table and brought to the sink nearby. "But, if yer eager," he continued as the dishes sounded their descent into the basin, "my first,' Honnings, 'll give ya'h day at sea."
	The dry clothes and privacy to change were provided. Little to no small talk was had while the men (and boy) were preparing for their day. The quite bustle of preparation filled the walls of the small cottage. A knock at the door interrupted their percussion and the passage whined open to reveal a man, young, perhaps, but certainly [i]sea[/i]soned. 
	"Oi! Brine!" he called in a voice surprisingly spritely compared to his hard, tattooed and pierced appearance.
	He didn't look the part of "sailor," but perhaps that didn't mean much. His hair was dramatic yet kempt. His body was clearly strong enough to be a sailor, but his skin was a canvase. His eyes were bright and his face angled. A torn, or ripped, plain black top showed the aesthetic of his skin. Accompanied with a full beard, and weathered jeans and boots, he looked ready for some kind of concert or a biker outing. Instead, he looked around expectantly for his boss.
	"I got fuckin' shit t'do t'day, ya bastard! I'm not fuckin' 'round wit' some pussy-bitch 'cause you an't'e fuckin' assed!"
	The language fit that of a man at sea for too long. It also insinuated he knew not a child could hear, or that he simply lacked the decency of censorship. Regardless, a short haw downplayed the level of vulgarity in his words.[/quote]

[h2][center][u][b]Naval Junkyard - Slateport City[/b][/u][/center][/h2][quote]	The crowd roared, whether in upset or excitement was difficult to tell. The ground trembled, vibrated with the powerful emotions and people surrounding. The individual standing in the center urged other competitors to not end up like the broken woman and Hitmonlee sprawled across the ring. 
	A single hand raised, hidden in the commotion, and silence replaced the cheers and jeers in just moments. Some kept their eyes on the beaten and broken foreigner looking for someone to kill him, while others looked expectantly at Dicky. He began to descend the bleachers around the ring, his stout posture keeping him from being easily followed by curious eyes.
	"Someone get this damned foreigner out of my ring!" His voice still echoed in the hollowed earth despite his stature and the people to absorb the vibrations. "And get that bitch to the infirmary!" he added with a dismissive wave of his hand.
	When he turned away, a few large men entered the ring to remove the combatants. A particularly misshapen couple escorted Rai with a lack of care of grace. The others picked up the unconscious Hitmonlee and Karen to get them healed up as quickly as possible so their "career" wouldn't end with a fluke of a child and his inflated head.
	Rai was carried through a tunnel, a portal, that was disguised as part of the interior dome structure. A narrow passage forced the brutes to walk sideways, sidestepping, so their broad shoulders wouldn't scrape against its sides. It would have felt like hours for someone half-conscious before they reached a chamber looking more like an executive's office than that of a head of a Brawler's community.
	Dicky was sitting in a high-backed leather chair. A wet clicking echoed throughout the "room," rhythmic like a faucet dripping onto metal. A woman stood beside him, wearing little and too pretty to be a fighter. The amount of cosmetics on her face and the manner in which she held herself and the way in which her hair bounced as she shifted suggested her profession wasn't so "professional." 
	The man flicked his hand and the woman waded across the stone floor in heels too high to look as if she glided across ice, sensual and elegant. She caressed a chair as she would the chest of a strong man to position it before the desk. When she returned to her spot next to Dicky, he thanked her with a series of gropes that suggested a carnal familiarity of her body.
	The men carrying the Johto boy dropped him on the chair and were then waved out without a word. Dicky let out a contented sigh and shifted around at his waist. A boy, not quite as old as Rai but with a more impressive aesthetic unadorned with clothing rose from somewhere under the large desk. He wiped his chin and gave a pleased and pompous eye tot he visitor. He exited the "office" more gracefully and tented than when he left the womb.
	"Johto, huh?" he pondered aloud. His small hand cupped his wide jaw. "And Rai's the name?" he continued, looking away from the boy.
	His eyes searched for information he seemed unable to recall. "I don't suppose your General Kurin's bastard." 
	He lit a cigar materialized in the woman's manicured and sleek fingers next to Dicky's lips. "If so, you're lookin' in the wrong place, kid."[/quote]