[color=silver][center][h1]
[color=#b7353a]Sαɯყҽɾ[/color][/h1]
[sup]mentions: Mika (or rather, the Snom) [@Solace], Fiona [@Psyker Landshark][/sup]
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The flight from Turffield to Wyndon was long enough that Sawyer had briefly considered taking a taxi. The distance itself was no problem for a tough old bird like Monarch, but the Staraptor's tendency to fight everything in her path didn't exactly make for a smooth ride. One look at the taxi fares, and Sawyer had quickly changed his mind. A life-threatening fight or two didn't seem quite that bad when weighed against bankruptcy. Damn, maybe he should have started a competing taxi service as a side gig?

[color=#b7353a]"You'd hate that shit, wouldn't ya?"[/color] Sawyer mumbled from atop the raptor's back. Contrary to safety protocol, he was sitting cross-legged, holding onto nothing but a Glameow on his lap. Luckily the winds weren't too strong, and there weren't many miles left besides.[color=#b7353a] "Carrying other people."[/color]

Monarch let out a screech that left no room for doubt. 

They arrived less than an hour later without too much trouble. A few Tranquill were likely left traumatised after happening upon the Staraptor's flight path, but Sawyer had made sure they'd gotten away without any fatal injuries. 

He hopped off Monarch's back, gave her a handful of snacks and a good ruffle as thanks, then recalled her back into her ball to rest. Glutton would refuse to get back into hers anyway, so Sawyer let her ride on his shoulder instead. 

[color=#b7353a]"The Last Dahlia,"[/color] he grumbled, scrolling over to the invitation. The name didn't ring a bell. Probably some fancy-ass venue specifically reserved for them. What a waste; Wyndon was packed full of amazing old bars with some of the best damn beer he'd ever had, and they'd be stuck sipping on some fucking cocktails made of syrup and pretense. Like the others, he presumed, he'd been told to dress for the occasion. Hyacinth had emphasized the importance of a tie, in particular.

So Sawyer wore one; wrapped around his bruised knuckles in lieu of bandages. The soft fabric felt pleasant against his skin, but didn't really help with the bleeding. Whatever. All it really had to do was make a point: if the chairman wanted to dictate what someone wore around their neck, he should get a dog.

When Sawyer finally found The Last Dahlia and stepped inside, he immediately realized the others had taken Hyacinth's insistence far more seriously. The bar was as fancy as he'd feared, but even more notably, so were its [i]patrons[/i]. Just the fact that his fellow gym leaders had dressed up wasn't really what shocked him, though. It was... actually seeing them be all fancy in person and realizing how [i]good [/i]many of them looked in their dresses and make up. It... well, [i]shit[/i].

As easily flustered as ever, Sawyer decided to glue his eyes onto the floor and make his way over to the bar as quickly as he could. Apart from the tie on his hand, he wore a get up very similar to what he usually did. He donned loose pants, a leather jacket and a few too many chains to be considered fashionable. They jingled as he made his way towards the bar and planted his ass on a stool.

[color=b7353a]"Oi, Fiona!" [/color]he called out over the various conversations happening around him, but kept his eyes fixed on the bottles behind the bar. If there was anyone who knew their alcohol, it was the flying type gym leader - and he could use a dose of her informality right about now. [color=#b7353a]"Know if they got anythin' decent here? And don't try to sell me on that caffeinated piss water this time!" [/color] Sawyer grinned. He didn't even have to look her way to guess that she was probably drinking her usual tonic wine again. He'd tried it once, as one should before dissing anything, but it wasn't his thing. 

Just then, he noticed a peculiarly coloured Snom a little distance from him, nestling around Mika's neck. What embarrassment still lingered on his face washed away as he followed the little critter with his gaze. Glutton did, too.

[color=b7353a]"No. You ain't eatin' the Snom," [/color]Sawyer told it firmly. The Glameow let out a displeased yowl as if it was just told to starve to death. 
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