Family Visit

Chapter Eight

Family Visit

By lunchtime, Gray had already been bitten once, licked three times, stepped on twice, and accused by Lyra of ignoring two emails she had sent specifically because he had ignored her when she told him the same information in person.

It was shaping up to be a normal afternoon.

The ranch sat beneath a clear, warm sky, the kind of day where the heat never quite became unpleasant because a steady breeze kept moving through the grass. Gray had abandoned his lab coat before noon, rolled the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows, and taken one of the feed carts out himself. A clipboard sat tucked beneath one arm, though he had barely looked at it since leaving the lab.

Lunch rounds were one of the jobs he still liked doing personally whenever he could.

Not every feeding. That would have been stupid now that the lab had a staff, multiple schedules, temporary boarders, rehabilitation cases, younger Pokémon under Tessa’s supervision, and enough permanent residents to turn every meal into a logistical project. But lunch was quieter than the morning feeding. The older Pokémon tended to eat smaller portions, medication had mostly already been handled, and half the time Gray was checking in more than feeding.

That was the part he liked.

Bastiodon followed behind the cart even though he had already eaten. Gray had stopped asking why. The old man had opinions about all food-related activity and apparently considered supervision necessary.

Gray pushed the cart toward the wooded section and glanced over his shoulder. “You know there is absolutely nothing in here for you.”

Bastiodon gave a low rumble.

“That is not an argument.”

Another rumble.

Gray smiled faintly. “Fine. Emotional support.”

The old Pokémon kept following.

Venusaur was exactly where Gray expected him to be, stretched beneath a patch of filtered sunlight near the edge of the trees. His enormous flower was open but relaxed, broad leaves barely moving in the breeze. Age had made him slower, but it had also made him exceptionally committed to comfort.

Gray stopped several feet away and opened one of the feed containers. “Lunch.”

Venusaur opened one eye.

Gray waited.

The eye closed again.

“That is insulting.”

Bastiodon rumbled behind him.

Gray looked back. “No one asked you.”

He prepared the bowl with chopped fruit, leafy feed, and the mineral supplement Venusaur tolerated only because Gray mixed it thoroughly enough to make refusal inconvenient. The old Pokémon had become more selective with food over the years. Gray respected that. There were things he had eaten happily as a child that he would now regard as a violation of basic human dignity.

He carried the bowl over and set it down.

Venusaur did not move.

Gray sat beside it.

“I can wait.”

For almost a full minute, nothing happened. Then one vine slowly extended from beneath Venusaur’s flower, curled around the bowl, and pulled it closer.

Gray smiled. “Thought so.”

He leaned back against a tree while Venusaur ate, Bastiodon settling into the grass nearby. For several minutes, none of them did anything useful.

Gray considered that useful.

The staff had taken over enough routine work that he could afford moments like this now. That was still strange. A month earlier, he had found the concept of competent employees suspicious. Now he was beginning to understand the appeal.

Footsteps approached along the path.

Mira appeared carrying a tablet and a small sample case. She stopped when she saw Gray sitting in the grass beside Venusaur.

“Lunch rounds?”

“Apparently.”

“You have a meeting at one.”

Gray checked his watch.

Twelve twenty.

“Plenty of time.”

“Lyra asked me to remind you.”

Gray sighed. “Coward.”

Mira smiled. “She said you'd say that.”

“She’s becoming too powerful.”

Mira glanced at Venusaur. “How's he eating?”

“Slowly, which is normal.”

The vine holding the bowl moved.

It tapped Gray lightly on the shoulder.

Gray looked at the bowl.

Empty.

He stared at Venusaur. “You could have done that faster from the beginning.”

Venusaur closed his eye again.

Mira laughed.

Gray stood and collected the bowl. “See? Constant disrespect.”

“You encourage it.”

“I do not.”

Bastiodon rumbled.

Gray pointed. “Not you too.”

Mira walked away still smiling.

Gray continued his rounds.

Kangaskhan was waiting near the path.

That was immediately suspicious.

Kangaskhan was old, clever, perfectly capable of opening Gray’s refrigerator, and had recently become alarmingly good at predicting the feeding schedule. When she sat quietly and waited before lunch, Gray generally assumed one of two things: either she had decided to cooperate, or she had already committed a crime and was establishing an alibi.

Gray stopped the feed cart several feet away and looked at her.

Kangaskhan looked back.

Her hands rested neatly in her lap.

Gray narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

Kangaskhan made a quiet sound.

“No. That posture is too innocent.”

He glanced toward the house, then toward the nearest storage shed. Nothing appeared damaged. The shed door was shut. The latch was still intact. No one was shouting.

Gray returned his attention to her.

“You’re either innocent or getting better.”

Kangaskhan brightened slightly.

“That was not praise.”

He prepared her lunch, adding a smaller amount of dry feed, more fruit, and the joint medication she hated on principle.

Kangaskhan watched the tablet disappear into the food.

Her expression fell.

Gray stirred it thoroughly. “I saw that.”

She looked away.

“You cannot object before tasting it. That's prejudice.”

Bastiodon rumbled again.

Gray looked over. “Why are you suddenly so opinionated today?”

Kangaskhan accepted the bowl anyway.

Gray scratched along her neck while she ate, fingers running over old scars he knew as well as his own hands. Some came from battles. Some from accidents. One thin mark near her shoulder came from a Beedrill nest incident Gray still considered mostly her fault.

When she finished, she pushed the bowl toward him.

Gray collected it.

Then she looked at the cart.

“No.”

She looked at him.

“You ate.”

Another look.

“No.”

One hand moved toward the cart.

Gray moved the cart away first. “You are retired. You are not starving.”

Kangaskhan sighed.

Gray smiled. “Drama.”

A voice carried across the ranch.

“Gray!”

He looked up.

Marcus was standing near the central path with one hand raised.

Gray shouted back. “What?”

“You have visitors!”

Gray frowned. “Who?”

“Roark!”

That barely counted as a visitor anymore.

“Fine!”

Marcus did not move.

Gray waited.

Marcus shouted again. “He brought somebody!”

Gray stared.

“Who?”

Marcus looked over his shoulder, then back at Gray. “Older guy!”

Gray sighed. “Very useful!”

Kangaskhan reached toward the cart again while he was distracted.

Gray slapped her hand lightly away. “Absolutely not.”

He started pushing the cart toward the main ranch, Bastiodon following behind him. Kangaskhan followed too.

Gray glanced back at her. “You are not getting second lunch.”

She kept walking.

“Fine. But if you embarrass me, I’m telling Blissey.”

That got a reaction.

Good.

Roark was standing near the laboratory entrance when Gray crossed the main paddock.

That part looked normal.

The man beside him did not.

Gray recognized Byron immediately.

They had never met, but Byron had been part of Sinnoh’s League structure long enough that even Gray knew the face. Older, broad-built, dressed in heavy work clothes despite not currently being underground, carrying himself with the kind of quiet physical confidence that came from a lifetime around dangerous machinery and equally dangerous Pokémon.

Gray approved almost instantly.

Then he looked at Roark.

Roark saw the look and smiled carefully. “Hi.”

Gray stopped the feed cart. “You brought your father.”

Roark glanced at Byron. “Yes.”

“You did not mention this.”

“I figured you'd find out when he got here.”

Gray stared. “That is a terrible system.”

Byron’s mouth twitched.

Roark shrugged. “Worked.”

Gray looked back at Byron and held out a hand. “Gray Linden.”

Byron shook it. “Byron.”

“I know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Gray glanced toward Roark.

Roark looked innocent.

Gray did not believe him.

The handshake itself earned Byron another small amount of approval. Strong grip, but not the ridiculous kind where somebody tried to turn basic greeting etiquette into a masculinity contest.

Gray released his hand. “You’re here for lunch rounds.”

Roark blinked. “Are we?”

“You arrived during lunch rounds.”

“Oh.”

Byron looked at the feed cart. “You're feeding everything yourself?”

“Not everything. Staff handles most of it now.” Gray nodded across the ranch. “I like doing some of the midday rounds.”

Byron nodded once.

No commentary.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

No praise.

Just acceptance.

Gray liked that.

Roark leaned toward the cart. “What’s left?”

“Donphan, Marowak, Aggron, pond.”

“Pond.”

Gray frowned. “You don’t choose.”

“I vote pond.”

“Your vote has been rejected.”

Byron looked at his son. “You visit enough to have preferences?”

Roark hesitated.

Gray smiled. “Unfortunately.”

Roark pointed at him. “You invite me.”

“Sometimes.”

“You literally told me to come yesterday.”

“That was research.”

“That was lunch.”

Gray thought about it. “Both.”

Byron looked between them.

His mouth twitched again.

Roark noticed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That means something.”

Gray smiled. “See? He does it too.”

Byron looked at both of them. “How long have you known each other?”

“A month,” Gray said.

“About that.”

Byron nodded slowly. “Feels longer.”

Gray and Roark exchanged a look.

Neither answered.

Byron seemed amused.

That was mildly irritating.

Donphan was, predictably, near the equipment shed.

Gray had begun to suspect that the shed was not actually a storage building anymore and had instead become Donphan’s preferred recreation area.

When the three men approached, Donphan was standing beside a stack of fencing posts.

One was lying flat on the ground.

Gray stopped.

He looked at Donphan.

Then at the post.

Then back at Donphan.

“Was that standing before?”

Donphan blinked.

Gray looked at Roark. “Was that standing yesterday?”

Roark considered. “I think so.”

Byron looked at his son. “You know the ranch layout now?”

Roark glanced at Gray.

Gray smiled.

“Unfortunately.”

Roark ignored him.

Gray approached Donphan. “What did you do?”

Donphan immediately leaned his head against Gray's shoulder.

Gray staggered.

“No. You don't get to do that.”

Donphan pushed harder.

Gray braced himself against the weight. “This is emotional manipulation.”

Byron watched.

Roark said, “Works every time.”

Gray looked at him. “Shut up.”

Donphan rumbled.

Gray sighed and scratched behind one ear. “Fine.”

Byron crouched beside the fallen post and examined the ground around it. “Does he move things often?”

“Yes.”

Roark answered before Gray could.

Gray turned toward him.

Roark shrugged. “I've seen it.”

Byron looked up at his son.

Gray saw the expression.

Roark saw it too.

“What?”

Byron stood. “Nothing.”

Gray understood immediately.

Byron was noticing how familiar Roark had become with the place.

Gray chose not to comment.

Not because he lacked anything to say.

Because he was trying to be kind.

Mostly.

He prepared Donphan's lunch while Byron inspected the shed door. Marcus had reinforced the lower hinge after the last incident. Donphan had apparently taken that as a challenge.

Byron tapped the frame.

“Solid repair.”

“Marcus.”

“He does good work.”

Gray nodded. “Yeah.”

Byron glanced toward the lab. “You’ve built a good staff.”

That landed differently than the compliments Gray usually received.

Less polite.

More observational.

Gray looked across the ranch at Marcus disappearing around the laboratory.

“Got lucky.”

Roark leaned against the shed. “You interviewed them.”

“That does not remove luck.”

Byron nodded. “True.”

Donphan started eating.

Roark looked at his father. “So why'd you come?”

Byron turned. “To visit.”

Roark waited.

Byron waited back.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Gray sensed there was probably more to that than either of them wanted to discuss in front of him.

Families were strange.

He had experience.

Byron eventually looked toward Gray. “Roark talks about this place.”

Roark straightened.

Gray smiled slowly. “Oh?”

Roark pointed at his father. “Careful.”

Byron ignored him. “Tunnels. Fossils. Your ranch. The Magikarp.”

“Reasonable subjects.”

“He talks about your assistant too.”

Roark went completely still.

Gray nearly dropped the feed scoop.

Byron continued with the same casual tone, apparently unaware that he had just detonated something. “What was her name?”

Roark's face had already started turning red.

Gray had to look away.

Byron frowned slightly in thought. “Lyra?”

“Dad.”

There was genuine pain in Roark’s voice.

Gray covered his mouth.

Byron looked at him. “What?”

Gray shook his head. “Nothing.”

Roark glared at both of them.

Donphan continued eating with complete indifference.

Byron looked confused for another few seconds.

Then understanding arrived.

His eyebrows rose.

“Oh.”

Roark closed his eyes.

Gray started laughing.

He tried not to.

That lasted approximately one second.

Roark turned toward him. “Fuck you.”

Gray leaned against the cart, shoulders shaking. “I didn't say anything.”

“You are laughing.”

“That is not speech.”

Byron looked at Roark. “So you do like her.”

Roark stared upward at the sky.

“Can I go into the tunnel and never come back?”

Gray wiped at one eye. “Absolutely not. Protected Diglett habitat.”

That made Byron laugh.

Roark looked genuinely betrayed now. “You too?”

Byron shrugged. “You're nearly thirty.”

“Exactly. Which means you don’t need to do this.”

Gray smiled. “No, I think he does.”

Roark pointed at him. “You are not family. Stay out.”

Gray raised both hands. “Fair.”

He did not stop smiling.

Marowak was next.

The old Pokémon sat near the rocky paddock with his club resting across his knees.

Tessa was nearby checking a young Sandshrew’s coat.

She looked up as they approached. “More visitors?”

Gray nodded toward Roark. “Recurring infestation.”

Roark smiled.

Tessa looked at Byron.

Recognition appeared quickly. “Byron?”

He nodded. “Tessa?”

“Breeder.”

“Mostly,” she said.

Byron looked at the Sandshrew in her lap. “Nice coat.”

Tessa immediately became more interested in him.

“Thank you.”

Gray noticed.

Correct compliment.

Specific.

About the Pokémon.

Byron was already socially outperforming his son by a wide margin.

Gray prepared Marowak's lunch.

The old Pokémon barely looked at the bowl.

Instead, he watched Byron.

Byron noticed.

Gray noticed both.

Marowak stood slowly and approached.

Byron looked at Gray.

“Does he know me?”

“No.”

“Steel scent,” Roark said.

Gray glanced over.

Roark shrugged. “Dad’s around Steelix constantly.”

Possible.

Pokémon noticed scent patterns humans barely registered.

Marowak reached Byron and sniffed his boots, then his pants.

Byron stayed still.

Good.

Marowak looked up.

Byron crouched gradually. “Hello.”

Marowak tapped his club once against the ground.

Byron smiled faintly. “Got one like you back home?”

Roark laughed. “That is not how species work.”

Byron ignored him.

Marowak allowed Byron to touch the side of his head.

Gray watched.

Interesting.

“He likes you.”

Byron scratched beneath the jaw. “Good taste.”

Gray smiled.

Roark sighed. “You two are going to get along.”

“Maybe.”

Gray handed Marowak the lunch bowl.

This time he ate.

Tessa finished checking Sandshrew and looked at Byron. “You still use your Steelix much?”

“Not as hard as he used to battle, but yes.”

Gray looked over immediately. “How old?”

Byron answered.

The lunch round stopped.

Naturally.

The conversation shifted into aging Steel-types.

Joint wear.

Armor maintenance.

Diet.

Activity levels.

Old injuries.

Byron had experience.

Gray had opinions.

Tessa had professional observations.

Roark had enough knowledge to contribute and enough sense not to pretend he knew everything.

They talked for nearly twenty minutes.

Marowak finished eating halfway through.

Then sat.

Waited.

Gray eventually noticed.

“Right.”

He collected the bowl.

Tessa smiled. “Research happened.”

“That counts.”

“You forgot what you were doing.”

“Temporarily.”

Byron looked amused.

Roark said, “This is normal.”

Byron looked at his son. “I can tell.”

Aggron found Byron before Gray reached the feeding station.

Gray realized this because he heard Roark start laughing.

Then Byron said, “What the hell?”

Gray turned.

Aggron was coming in from the side at a surprisingly quick pace for something his size.

Gray recognized the body language immediately.

“Oh, no.”

Byron looked over.

“What?”

“Brace.”

Too late.

Aggron reached him.

One huge tongue dragged across Byron’s jacket, cheek, and temple in a single pass.

Byron froze.

Roark doubled over laughing.

Gray joined him.

Byron slowly wiped his face.

Aggron rumbled happily.

Roark managed, “He likes you.”

Byron looked at his son. “That’s what you meant.”

“That is friendly.”

Gray wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still laughing. “Roark didn't warn you?”

“He said the Aggron was affectionate.”

“Technically accurate.”

Aggron moved in for another lick.

This time Byron caught the enormous snout with both hands.

“No.”

Aggron paused.

Byron held him there.

The Pokémon pushed.

Byron did not move much.

Gray raised his eyebrows.

“Strong bastard,” Byron muttered.

Aggron rumbled.

Then Byron scratched along the side of his jaw.

Aggron’s entire posture changed.

Head lower.

Eyes closing.

Pleased rumble.

Gray smiled. “There.”

Roark looked at his father. “You complain when I get dirt on your couch.”

“Your dirt isn't attached to an Aggron.”

“That is unfair.”

“Yes.”

Gray prepared Aggron's lunch, heavy on mineral feed. The second the bowl made noise, Aggron abandoned Byron completely.

Byron looked insulted.

Gray handed him the bowl. “You can feed him.”

Byron accepted.

Aggron sat.

Roark stared.

“He never sits for me.”

Gray smiled. “You are socially inferior to your father.”

“Apparently.”

Byron fed Aggron.

Gray leaned against the fence.

For the first time since Byron arrived, a stretch of quiet settled over the three of them.

Not uncomfortable.

Gray liked that.

Byron didn't seem to need constant conversation. He could let silence exist without treating it like a problem to solve.

Another point in his favor.

After Aggron finished, Byron handed the bowl back and looked over the ranch.

“Roark wasn't exaggerating.”

Gray frowned. “About?”

“This place.”

“What did he say?”

Roark immediately became fascinated with a nearby rock.

Byron smiled faintly. “Mostly that you'd turned it into a retirement home disguised as a research ranch.”

Gray looked at Roark.

Roark raised both hands. “I meant that positively.”

Gray considered. “It is pretty accurate.”

Byron looked toward the older Pokémon spread across the property. “Most trainers don't keep this many retired partners nearby.”

“Most trainers don't have twenty-seven acres.”

“True.”

Gray scratched along Aggron's neck. “I'd keep them close anyway.”

Byron looked at him.

Gray shrugged. “They're mine.”

Simple.

Byron nodded.

Also simple.

Gray liked him more for that.

No speech about loyalty.

No sentimental observation.

No performance.

Just understanding.

The pond came last.

Roark had clearly been waiting for this.

Gray knew because he started smiling before they reached the dock.

Byron noticed immediately.

“What?”

Roark shook his head. “You'll see.”

Gray pointed at him. “Do not encourage anything.”

“I haven't done anything.”

“You arrived.”

“That is not legally encouragement.”

Gray stopped.

Roark smiled. “You use that argument on me constantly.”

Gray regretted teaching him anything.

They stepped onto the dock.

The pond looked peaceful.

Gray knew better.

Several Magikarp floated near the surface. Two Gyarados were visible farther out.

Byron stopped.

Roark watched his face with obvious anticipation.

Byron looked at Gray. “There really are six?”

Gray frowned. “Why does everyone think I lied?”

“One pond?”

“Yes.”

Byron examined the shoreline. “Reinforced banks.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Gray smiled.

Finally.

A reasonable person.

Roark looked disappointed. “You're not going to ask why?”

Byron looked at him. “They evolved.”

Roark stared.

Gray pointed at Byron. “See?”

Byron continued. “What was he supposed to do? Throw them out?”

Gray looked delighted. “Exactly.”

Roark sighed. “Fine.”

Gray started distributing feed in measured portions. The Gyarados surfaced one at a time.

One approached the dock.

Gray crouched and ran his hand along the lower jaw while it ate.

Byron leaned forward slightly. “Friendly.”

“Mostly.”

Roark said, “Wait.”

Gray looked over. “Don't.”

Byron turned toward his son. “What?”

Roark smiled. “Ask him about Seventeen.”

Gray sighed.

Byron looked at Gray.

“What is Seventeen?”

“A Magikarp.”

“That sounds too simple.”

“It is.”

Gray stood and scanned the fish near the dock.

Seven.

Eleven.

Twenty.

Twenty-four.

No Seventeen.

Good.

Roark leaned against the railing. “He knocked out a Gyarados once.”

Byron turned slowly toward Gray.

Gray lifted one shoulder. “Apparently.”

“How?”

“We don't know.”

Byron stared.

Gray smiled. “Welcome to science.”

Roark laughed.

Byron looked toward the pond. “Which one?”

“That is the dangerous question.”

Roark moved slightly farther from the edge.

Byron noticed.

“You're afraid of a Magikarp.”

Roark looked offended. “I respect him.”

“You're afraid.”

“He hit Elias in the chest.”

Byron looked at Gray.

Gray nodded. “Accurate.”

“And Tessa.”

“Also accurate.”

Byron frowned. “With Splash?”

“Probably.”

“What does probably mean?”

“No one has successfully documented the mechanism.”

Byron looked like he was trying to determine whether everyone around him had collectively decided to lie.

Then something broke the surface.

Roark stepped backward instantly.

Gray turned.

Number Seventeen.

The Magikarp surfaced beside the dock and looked exactly like any other member of the species.

Orange scales.

Blank eyes.

Open mouth.

Pure malevolence.

Gray pointed. “There.”

Byron crouched.

Roark said, “Dad.”

Byron looked over. “It is a Magikarp.”

“Yeah.”

Byron lowered one hand toward the water.

Gray opened his mouth.

Seventeen launched himself upward.

Byron jerked back.

The Magikarp missed his face by inches and hit the dock.

Flop.

Flop.

Gray moved quickly and picked him up.

Seventeen immediately slapped Gray across the cheek with his tail.

Gray closed his eyes.

Roark collapsed against the railing laughing.

Byron stared.

Gray held the fish away from his face. “See?”

Byron started laughing too.

Gray looked at Seventeen. “You have embarrassed me in front of company.”

Seventeen flopped.

Gray returned him to the pond.

He vanished.

Byron wiped at one eye. “What is wrong with that thing?”

Gray smiled. “We don't know.”

Byron laughed again.

By the time they finished the lunch rounds and started back toward the laboratory, Gray had completely forgotten about the one o'clock meeting.

He remembered when Lyra appeared outside the main entrance with her arms crossed.

Gray saw her.

Stopped.

Checked the time.

“One thirty.”

“Yes.”

“I can explain.”

“No, you can't.”

“I had visitors.”

Lyra looked at Roark. “Roark doesn't count anymore.”

Roark smiled.

Gray frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”

Gray pointed toward Byron. “This is Byron.”

Lyra's attention shifted.

Recognition came immediately. “Byron?”

He nodded. “Lyra.”

They shook hands.

Then Byron looked at Roark.

Gray noticed.

Roark noticed.

Roark’s posture changed almost imperceptibly.

Gray smiled.

Dangerous.

Byron looked back toward Lyra. “So you're Lyra.”

Roark closed his eyes.

Lyra blinked.

Gray had to look away.

She glanced between them. “What am I missing?”

Roark said, “Nothing.”

Too fast.

Byron smiled.

Gray's shoulders started shaking.

Lyra narrowed her eyes. “Roark?”

He looked at her. “Yes?”

Byron said, “He talks about you.”

Roark looked like he wanted the earth to open again.

Gray lost all remaining dignity.

He laughed openly.

Lyra's eyebrows rose.

Roark glared at his father. “Why?”

Byron frowned. “Why what?”

“Why would you say that?”

“You do.”

“That does not mean you say it.”

Gray leaned against Bastiodon, who had wandered over sometime during the conversation.

Lyra looked at Roark.

A faint smile appeared. “What does he say?”

“Nothing.”

Byron said, “Mostly that you're competent.”

Gray laughed harder.

Roark turned. “You are not helping.”

“I know.”

Lyra smiled. “Competent?”

Roark rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

“That is very flattering.”

“It is?”

Roark realized the problem immediately.

Gray covered his face.

Byron stared at his son.

Roark tried to recover. “I mean, yes. Obviously. You're more than competent. Not that I am grading you. I just meant—”

Lyra started laughing.

Roark stopped.

Correct decision.

Byron looked at Gray. “Is he always like this?”

Gray wiped his eyes. “Only with her.”

Roark pointed. “I hate you.”

Lyra smiled. “No, you don't.”

Gray looked delighted. “She learned.”

Roark stared at all of them. “This entire place is hostile.”

Chatot flew down from the laboratory roof and landed on the fence.

“LYRA!”

Roark closed his eyes.

Gray almost fell over.

Byron looked at Chatot.

Then at Roark.

Then back at the bird.

Understanding appeared.

His laughter carried across half the ranch.

Byron stayed another hour.

Not because anyone formally invited him.

Much like Roark's first visit, leaving simply stopped being urgent.

They ended up sitting on the porch.

Gray had coffee.

Byron had coffee.

Roark had water because he had once told Blissey he was dehydrated, and she had never forgiven him.

Lyra eventually returned to the lab.

Roark recovered slowly.

Byron and Gray talked.

Not about anything important.

That was what made the conversation good.

Mining.

Steel-types.

Older Pokémon.

Gym challengers.

The League.

The difference between trainers who actually understood Rock-types and trainers who simply brought Water moves and assumed the match was already won.

Gray liked Byron.

That surprised him slightly.

Not because he had expected to dislike the man.

Gray simply did not like most people quickly.

Byron was easy.

Direct.

Quiet when there was nothing worth saying.

Experienced enough that he did not need to prove it.

There was something about him that reminded Gray, faintly and inconveniently, of his father.

Not enough to hurt.

Enough to notice.

Gray did not examine it.

Byron looked out over the ranch. “You've done well here.”

Gray drank his coffee. “It’s been two months.”

“Doesn't change it.”

“Staff did most of it.”

Byron looked at him. “That's part of doing well.”

Gray frowned. “That sounds fake.”

“It isn't.”

“Explain.”

Byron leaned back in the chair. “If everyone needs you for everything, you've built a bad operation. Good people make you look unnecessary.”

Gray considered that.

It was annoyingly sensible.

“I might steal that.”

“Go ahead.”

Roark sat nearby, looking exhausted from surviving his own father.

Gray smiled at him.

Roark narrowed his eyes.

Byron noticed. “You two became friends fast.”

Gray looked across the ranch.

He no longer denied it automatically.

That was either progress or a serious personal failure.

“Apparently.”

Roark smiled. “See?”

Gray looked at him. “Don't make it weird.”

“You make everything weird.”

“False.”

Byron drank his coffee.

For a while, none of them spoke.

Aggron crossed the ranch in the distance.

Venusaur remained beneath the trees.

A Gyarados surfaced.

Bastiodon rested near the porch.

The afternoon had become lazy.

Gray's missed meeting could be rescheduled.

Lyra would complain.

Gray would survive.

Eventually Byron stood.

“Should head back.”

Roark looked up. “You going through the tunnel?”

Byron stared at him. “No.”

Roark smiled. “Just checking.”

Gray stood too.

He walked with them toward the central path.

Byron stopped beside Bastiodon.

The old Pokémon looked up.

Byron placed one hand against the broad face shield. “Good meeting you, old man.”

Bastiodon rumbled.

Gray smiled. “He likes you.”

Byron looked over. “Better than the Aggron method.”

“Considerably.”

Roark adjusted his helmet.

Gray looked at him. “You coming back tomorrow?”

Byron's eyebrows rose.

Roark smiled. “Probably.”

Gray realized how automatic the question had been.

He ignored that.

“There are survey records we haven't finished.”

“Sure.”

Gray looked at him.

Roark grinned. “Research.”

“Correct.”

Byron looked between them.

Then shook his head slightly.

Gray caught it.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That means something.”

Byron smiled. “Good luck, Professor.”

Gray frowned. “That sounded ominous.”

“It wasn't.”

“Suspicious.”

Roark laughed.

They started walking toward the exit.

Byron made it several yards before stopping and turning back.

“Gray.”

Gray looked over. “Yeah?”

Byron gestured toward the ranch, then the lab. “My son likes it here.”

Roark stopped walking.

“Dad.”

Byron ignored him.

Gray looked at Roark.

Then back at Byron.

“Yeah.”

Byron nodded once.

There was no warning in it.

No request.

No awkward parental speech.

Just an observation.

Gray understood anyway.

“He’s fine here.”

Roark looked horrified. “Can both of you stop talking about me like I’m twelve?”

Gray smiled. “No.”

Byron laughed.

Then they left.

Gray remained near the path until the gate closed behind them.

Bastiodon stood beside him.

Gray scratched the edge of his shield.

“Nice guy.”

Bastiodon rumbled.

“Roark is still annoying.”

Another rumble.

“I know.”

Gray turned toward the lab.

Lyra stood in the doorway.

She was smiling.

Gray immediately became suspicious.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Everyone keeps doing that.”

She held up her tablet. “Your one o'clock meeting would like to know when you're available to reschedule.”

Gray's mood collapsed.

“Tell them I died.”

“No.”

“Tunnel accident?”

“No.”

“Dugtrio?”

“No.”

“Magikarp?”

Lyra paused.

Gray saw it.

“You thought about it.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

She walked inside.

Gray followed.

“Use Seventeen. It's believable.”

“No.”

“He attacked a Gym Leader’s father today.”

“He missed.”

“Intent matters.”

“Tomorrow at ten.”

Gray groaned.

From the fence, Chatot shouted, “LYRA!”

Gray looked toward the sky.

“I’m going back to archaeology.”