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The night had started early for him, a way to clear his head after the workweek and get ready for the weekend. Louis got in before there was much of a line outside to make things simpler. That meant he’d been waiting a while before he was hungry enough to order food, but it gave him time to people watch. There were two things he liked about the Pit: Their reasonably priced and oh-so-greasy cheeseburgers from the bar, and the just plain strange crowd that hung around there.

Right now it was late enough for him to order dinner. While he waited he sat staring at his magazine and slowly sipping from the beer he ordered. There was a discount on a meal if you ordered drinks, and all it took was one cheap beer that Louis could stretch to last a long while. He was leafing through his issue of The New Left Review and trying to find where he had left off with that Mike Davis article. The piece by Frederic Jameson was what grabbed his attention and led him to buy it, but this essay was a nice surprise, even a little relevant to what he saw day to day. New high rises were sprouting up down town like crops in growing season, fertilized with loads of off-shore capital, only a few miles from humble little Oceanside. Here, everything seemed frozen in time building-wise, even rent-wise, but that was fine for anyone who wasn’t interested in bragging about marble countertops and stainless steel faucets.

It was noisy tonight, and the live act hadn’t even started. Bigby had a loud audio set up here, but somehow the lady on the other side of the bar was the loudest thing in the room at the moment. She was shouting out to Bigsby, a little gutsy of her. When Louis looked up he saw it was Darcy, who earlier in the week returned an amp she rented three days late and with a white stain on it that Louis hoped was from a kitchen accident involving cornstarch. She paid all in cash, including the late fees. It was all small bills, and the less Louis knew about what they had been through before, the better.

Close to her Louis saw another face he recognized, Bennett Robertson. Two days ago Louis had taken a look at the wiring set up of the Palace, trying to give him a little advice and build a working relationship. Who knows, he might play a show there, which would certainly be easier than trying to get booked here at the Pit. Last time he sent in a tape sample the called him back because his material sounded so weird they thought the tape was damaged. He said to Bennett

“Hey Bennett! How’s it going with the electrical stuff, you find a contractor for the work yet? Bands these days are all lugging around a ton of cabs, you’re gonna need more juice for the stage if you want to compete.”

He also shot Darcy a dirty look, a way of silently saying that she’d better take more care with her gear if she wanted to rent from him again.

Very, very interested in this


I will hop on board.
Sam walked alongside Wilbur on the trail. He knew he could ride on Wilbur and keep the same pace. Wilbur was a Mudbray and could easily bear the load, but there was something else on the line. Sam didn’t want to look lazy next to the rest of the group, so he stayed on his feet just like everyone else. His Natu, Smith, was quiet now, nodding off a little on his shoulder. That bird pokemon loved sleeping almost as much as it loved getting upset over nothing.

At that moment Sam was near the back of the group, but then he took a look at the map on his Pokegear and saw that they were making good time. It wasn’t a sure thing, but based on a little mental calculation Sam figured out that if they went a little faster they could be there in time for him to make a few sales pitches that same day. Time was money, and even a few hours could be valuable if he used them right. With ideas of how to figure out how to find good prospects in his head, Sam picked up his pace by jogging a little and headed towards the front of the group, closer to Cho and Ezekiel.

Along the way he waved at Judas and Naoko, but kept a wide berth from Squegg. He had heard about how a Trapinch could chew through anything, even had an idea for an excavation company using some of them at one point. He kicked himself for not patenting it, just the other day he saw a news story about a billionaire trying a similar idea for building a tunnel network. Evidently that man thought that the commute between his rocket factory, his mansion, and his car factory was too onerous when he had to wait in traffic; that sounded like the kind of problem Sam dreamed of having.

When he got close to the front of the group, Sam decided to try and liven things up by starting a little conversation. He said “So, we got a ways before we hit Violet City, but I was wondering. When we get there, are you guys going to go straight to it and challenge it, or are you going to try to prepare a bit?” after a little hesitation, he added “Who do you think will be the first of us to get the badge?” He didn’t say it out loud, but he had the feeling it wouldn’t be him. Sam could talk a big game, but when he was honest with himself he wasn’t too confident in his skill as a trainer.
Why not throw my hat in here.
Sam had gotten up early that day, stopping by both his mother and his father’s place on the way out. His dad packed a nice lunch for him and his mom gave him an old but reliable wilderness survival guide. Sam doubted that he’d read it. Both of his parents had given him gentle warnings about how difficult the journey might be, but Sam was good at ignoring them, and both of them knew that all too well. Sam lived on his own, and he’d deal with the consequences on his own.

He was off for the town gate as soon as he had Wilbur’s saddlebags loaded up. His actual supplies were in his backpack, but he needed Wilbur’s carrying capacity for his cargo. One of the local tea plantations had been discarding the excess from a disappointing batch, not wanting it to hurt their reputation for quality. It was supposed to be composted, but after slipping a few pokedollars to one of the field hands he was able to run off with a few satchels of them. Soon enough he’d be looking for a buyer for this load of “exclusive, genuine top-quality New Bark Town tea”. Plus, there’d be plenty to share with the rest of the group. He wouldn’t even charge them for it, as long as they’d back him up when he went into his sales pitch.

Wilbur took his time through the streets even though his load wasn’t heavy, but Sam was fine with that because he knew there would be a lot more distance to cover today, and he didn’t want Wilbur to waste his energy. Smith was perched on Sam’s shoulder, enjoying some fresh air. As he got closer he could see that the group was already half-assembeled. He waved hello and shouted “Wassup! You guys ready to go out and make some history?” As soon as he waved, Smith began shaking and shrieking all over his shoulder, shifting its head and flapping it’s wings. Sam had no idea what was with his Natu, it just had a way of freaking out over nothing. He tried to calm it down by snapping his fingers and waving his other hand in front of the Natu’s face. Their relationship was a little rocky at the moment, Sam had won him in a poker game at college only a few months ago. Supposedly it could see the future, but all it ever seemed to do was get spooked and cause Sam anxiety. Still, he kept it around because he had a feeling it’d be useful to him someday.
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