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The flames crackled and burnt brightly within the giant hearth. All the oxygen in the air here's good for that, at least, he thought, and continued cranking his makeshift spindle, slow roasting stuffed dwarf bulborbs.
Assessing it to have cooked to satisfaction, he delicately pulled the roast meat free from the skewer and lazily kicked dirt onto the flames until they subdued. He packed them up into his basket with the rhythm of habit, all while turning his head around, parsing the surrounding landscape for signs of the big dog. It eventually showed, and Louie hitched a ride.
The region was quiet. He wasn't sure how long he'd been here, but it was evidentenly long enough that the local wildlife had come to aknowledge him as a threat. Made everything more of a pain, really. He fondly remembered the days that merely walking around made him the magnetic center of an all-you-can-eat buffet. Now he had to hide, not for fear of creatures, but to get past their fear of him. At least the newborn larva didn't know any better, but their taste grew repetitive in the long run.
They soon made their way back to the clearing. Louie gave the dog a thoughtful pat before sliding down its long fur, basket still carefully held in front of him. He waddled on through the even quieter home base, which was dotted all around by a few abandonned ships - though it was only him and the big dog living there now, in this quiet shipwreck graveyard that each day was home to the alluring smell of his cooking, although he couldn't actually smell it while outside on account of his helmet.
He entered the ship and took said helmet off. The clinically bleached clean smell of the living quarters wasn't much different from the inside of his suit, so he quickly undid the cloth's knot of and opened up the weaved basked within, letting the comforting roast meat and herbs liven up the air. He set it down on the table. Dressed it. Sat down.
It looked pretty good. He knew it was. But he couldn't bring himself to eat. He just couldn't get into a good mood. Louie hopped onto his feet and paced around the ship, inspected the walls and machinery... Not that there was much point. He knew how to pilot it, sure, but understanding how it worked... he had always kind of relied on whoever else was there to fix any issues that may come up will playing confused and nodding his head. Things looked fine... for now. And there were plenty of sources of fuel around. But if something were to break down, he was no mechanic - and anyone who might have been had gone long ago. Louie knew this. And it was one of the few things that could cut short his appetite.
He found his way to the driver's seat and glared through the glass to the outside. The big dog sat there, as always, towering over the flowers and spectralids. He took to imagining it sitting anywhere else. Back on Hocotate. That would've been nice... But it was pointless and tiring to imagine. It was too big. They'd never have said yes.
Not that he had asked for them to come back in the first place. He'd snuck off the ship - with some 'help' from the more spiteful, skeptic and pragmatic members of that rescue corps - and remained behind, again, all the way back when. He'd then hidden out, far away, for a long time. Until his life support systems had all been worn down to their last legs. Only then had he come back to that clearing, surprised to see the corps and Olimar back again, still looking for him. Stubborn. But their pigheadedness had turned out to be to his advantage.
Their systems were still in prime shape.
He felt a little bad about it. But it was just survival. He'd gone in and stolen the suits while they were sleeping, and they'd noticed only in the morning. Unable to go out exploring, they'd turned back tail. Louie had thought that would be the end of it.
But they returned, with a smaller crew - notably excluding that doctor, scientist and ranger. More persistent, more willing to risk it, more prepared. It got on his nerves like nothing else had. How hard is it to leave me alone? He'd told them that was all he wanted. But maybe words weren't convincing enough.
A swiftly aimed throw of a rock was all it took. Their helmets were all reinforced, but that one looked older than the others, more likely to shatter. And it did.
It was a shame to lose out on a functioning suit, but it sent a message. They disappeared with their ship, never to return. Much like the wildlife, they had aknowledged him as more trouble than he was worth. All that was left... was that body. Louie ate many things with unending curiosity ; and perhaps that was why he'd fetched it back after the fact. But looking at it just didn't feel good at all. It put him into a great and unpleasant discomfort. So he'd shelfed it into cryo-sleep and never looked at it again.
The suit it wore looked too familiar.
Louie heard his stomach growl. He walked back to the table and ate without much thought. It was good. Probably.
He checked the gauges on his latest suit. It would still be good for a few more trips. He geared up and headed back out. The dog hadn't moved. Louie gave it a half-hearted gesture and it lowered its head to the ground to let him hop on. But the hocotatian did not. He pressed his cold helmet against the big dog's nose, then his rubbery gloves. It would've felt better in less cumbersome clothes, but it was still something. He was here. The dog was here. Plenty of food was here. For now, at least.