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Something’s up, and has been for awhile now.
Both Jessie and Meowth had discussed it in low tones; they’re thankful that it’s probably not that concussion James had, although that’s where they can trace it back to. Oh, he’s his same old self, but there’s times where he. . .hesitates.
He’s always ready to try another Pikachu-catching scheme, of course. (And they all know, in the back of their minds, that it’s futile - that’s the whole point. They’re bad guys who do the right thing in the most chaotic, amoral way possible. Sticking with this job is what keeps them from being involved in actual evil plans.)
But there are days when they catch sight of the twerp, and for some inexplicable reason, James tells them ‘not today’.
Right now it’s in the way Jame’s brows draw together in somber worry. His voice is clear, but soft. “Today’s not the day guys.”
Jessie looks at James (they stand in front of a diner’s window - they can see the trio of brats in the far back corner, eating onigiri and laughing). Then she looks back and sees the main twerp, Ash.
And she looks.
The kid’s hair is disheveled, sticking out haphazardly from under his cap. From the angle she’s at she can see the dark circle under his eye, and that his face is, well, not quite blank, but kinda lifeless, like all the energy had been sucked out of him. In the few minutes she’s watched he’s dropped his chop sticks four times, and made miserable effort to smile at least twice. His Pikachu stays curled up, leaning against his arm, although it’s eagerly chirruping at the others who are laughing, watching the little Togepi try to eat an entire onigiri in one go.
She slides her hands off and leans away from the window. “You’re right; it’s not worth it. Let’s steal some takoyaki from the joint next door and plan our next move.”
It’s vaguely arrogant and perhaps jaded in tone, but it’s how Jesse talks so they don’t loose any bluster for taking a day off.
She knows James is hiding something, something about the kid.
But she also knows they’re allowed their secrets, and that he would tell them if it actually affected them.
Meowth knows the importance of secrets, too.
But he also knows he’s a cat-type Pokémon, and cat-types are notorious for insatiable curiosity. It’s their weakness, their ‘nip. Humans had booze as what-have-you, Meowth had curiosity that needed to be explored.
So while Jessie and James argued over who stole who’s takoyaki (it was Meowth. He took from both of their boxes when they weren’t looking. Can you blame him?) he scrambled back over to the diner, assuming all fours and trying to ignore the pleasure of stretching properly for once.
(He didn’t give in to his Pokémon instincts nearly often enough, so when he indulged in it, it made him want to purr until the ground shook.)
He hopped up onto the steps, waiting until the door opened so he could go in - he would pretend to be a normal Meowth, and talk to Pikachu in Pokéspeak.
Unfortunately it was taking a loooooong time, because this was a quiet town, and everyone apparently loved to sit and chat for an hour even though they were done with their meal. He couldn’t help twitching his tail in irritation, nor pulling back his lip in disgust. In fact, he was so wrapped up in his own fuming, that he nearly leapt into the air when he heard something clank against the glass door.
It was Pikachu. Holding a knife.
To be fair, it was a butter knife, but it was a big butter knife. Like, as tall as Pikachu.
Pikachu pika-pi’d about something, pointing at Meowth with the knife as it did, obviously getting quite. . .passionate about whatever it was saying.
Meowth tilted his head in question, then remembered the jig was up anyways and stood, shrugging.
Pikachu gestured ‘stay there’ - with the knife - then disappeared.
Meowth just sat back down and waited.
All too soon Pikachu showed up running from around the back of the building, not even waiting a second to breathe before going back into whatever it’s rant had been about.
“Woah woah woah! Time out!” He waved his paws. “Look, I’m just tryin’ ta get some answers, ‘Kay? James is bein’ all weird lately and I know dat it has ta do with youse two!”
Pikachu froze, blinking. Its expression was blank and eerie for a moment. Then it said something that doesn’t bear repeating.
Meowth relaxed, dropping his paws. “Uhhh, he didn’t say nothin’, so I don’t think you wanna go dat far. Jus’ I knows he had a weird look on his face, an’ I know ‘im pretty well, so somethin’ is botherin’ him, an’ yer trainer is all mopey-“
Pikachu proceeded to grab his by his chest fur, vibrating furiously and cheeks sparking. In a series of rapid pika-ing it essentially told Meowth it was none of his business and to back off. Then it shoved Meowth and stalked off, muttering furiously under its breath.
Now, Meowth has been threatened many times in his life. But he did not expect the fear of Arceaus to be put into him by an electric mouse, nor that it wasn’t the electric part that really scared him.
It was the manner of threatening (please don’t let Ash ever get that rat a pocket knife-) along with the fact that whatever was going on was so serious that a freaking rodent is ready to resort to knives.
So Meowth did the smart thing for the moment:
He let it go.
By the time he found Jessie and James again they had creamsicles, and pretended to have forgotten Meowth even though they had gotten him one.
And in the diner Ash’s eyes began to light up again and it felt easy to breathe as the latest memory faded in the presence of his friends.