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Philippe remembered when the brat first got glasses. He saw him stalking around his neighborhood sporting big ol’ glasses and sauntering around like he owned the place. Philippe ran him out of his district but saw how much happier he looked as he dashed away from Philippe with help from his Venipede.
Eventually he heard that Corbeau got in with Lysandre who took on the kid as some kind of pet project, or at least that’s what Philippe assumed it was about. Glasses, better clothes, more weight. The brat was sitting pretty, and he dropped a few bad habits as time passed. No more stealing, but he could get his hands on anything. No more fighting, but he got people to stay away from him. No more confronting Philippe, but he still made his presence known in Philippe’s district.
Skarmory flew around and helped Philippe patrol the district, calling out when he spotted a disturbance somewhere and circled the area until Philippe got there. Skarmory was so used to Corbeau, and so used to Philippe’s hatred to the kid’s shenanigans that it used a specific caw to call out that Corbeau lurked in the district. Corbeau eventually figured that out and taught his Binacle the move Mud-Slap to scare off Skarmory before it snitched on him. Skarmory dodged and yelled back at him usually, but Philippe usually arrived before Skarmory got out of hand.
The side hustles this kid arranged annoyed Philippe. They included some suspicious stuff, and he worried he’d introduce some nasty stuff to the city and get a network of drugs or something just to make a fortune for himself. The thing was, he didn’t know what he was actually doing. He couldn’t get info about him. He somehow blocked most of the accounts of his business from reaching Philippe, and no one cared enough to update Philippe when he showed curiosity for the kid.
So, he ran the kid out and minded his business. He often tried to catch him to figure him out, maybe even get an actual answer to his questions while he was at it too. But the kid always always got away. Philippe trusted that he and his men could keep the kid away enough where he couldn’t do any harm. Besides, Lysandre seemed to be helping him turn a new leaf anyway. Good for him.
It wasn’t common for one to be glad for their rival, but Philippe genuinely hoped the kid made it and got out of the street permanently. He still lingered and ran little operations on the side business as usual, so Lysandre wasn’t providing everything to him. At least he had a good role model for his insatiable appetite for work.
Lysandre was a great man, paving the way for Lumiose to become better. He even chipped in to help the local communities within the city too. He wasn’t all talk like some of the big shots in the city who were really just all about themselves. No, if Corbeau was really learning from this man, it could be great for him.
So, when Skarmory called out Corbeau’s signature caw, he strolled to the spot until the steel bird also called out a disturbance. Before registering what that meant, he already bolted in the direction Skarmory indicated. He stopped short of the scene to figure out exactly what was going on first.
Someone had forced Corbeau on his knees, and he now looked up at five shady guys surrounding him at all sides. One guy, presumably the leader, shouted down at him while Corbeau gave him the most uncaring face he could. They were yelling some humiliating stuff—stuff he was sure Corbeau wouldn’t be messed up about since he’s heard much worse than them calling him a pampered Furfrou.
But then the main guy punched Corbeau in the face so hard, his glasses flew off his face and hit the ground somewhere far away from them. Laughter broke out around them. The main guy grabbed his chin and got a spit full of blood from the kid who wasn’t about to cower despite being surrounded.
They all nearly jumped him right there.
Philippe didn’t remember walking over there, but he was suddenly pulling them off the kid and knocking them out one by one without breaking a sweat. The main guy put up more of a fight, so Philippe knocked him over instead of knocking him out. He pushed him to the ground. “Ever heard of fair fights? Let’s see, 5 against 1? Not a fair fight. Didn’t think you could take on this brat alone? Then you shouldn’t have tried.”
He glanced at Corbeau slowly rising to his feet.
“Don’t go bugging this kid for no reason. Especially in my district!” Philippe pulled him up by the back of his shirt and shoved him away.
The guy ran off without looking back.
Corbeau looked confused but took the time to glare up at him. “What are you doing? I don’t wanna owe you anything! I was fine!”
“Fine? Your entire face is bleeding and bruised. How’d they catch you?”
Corbeau walked away from him and paced around a bit.
“Where’s your team?”
“Fainted, now shut up! Can’t see anything. You did your thing, get out of here!”
Philippe scanned the ground and found his glasses. Once he grabbed them, he went back to him. Before the brat could protest, Philippe quickly but carefully put them back on his face. “They had no right to get you all at once.”
“What do you care? You’ve been trying to jump me for months.” He bit back and adjusted his glasses.
Corbeau took them off, and the arms of the frames broke in his hands.
He frowned with disappointment that he’d never seen in the kid before. Before he could leave, Philippe grabbed his arm. “I’ll take you to Lysandre.”
“I can get there myself.”
“You’re farsighted?”
“No.”
“It’ll be quick. It’s not worth the hassle to run around without clear vision.”
“I’ve done it before. Besides, you want people to see you escorting me there and start talking?”
They might, he’s right. Philippe fidgeted in place. “I’ll just bring you to the end of the district then. No one’s gonna think I’m favoring you if I just do that.”
Corbeau cradled his hurt face before agreeing.
They never walked so calmly together before, and the kid was right; they drew eyes. Not envious eyes or curious eyes: terrified eyes. Corbeau held his broken glasses close to his chest but held his head high. By the time they reached Corbeau’s destination, the street was completely abandoned except for them. Philippe was amused by that.
Corbeau entered a scarlet red cafe, and Philippe followed him in, curiously. Corbeau walked right up to Lysandre and presented the pieces. Philippe hesitated from being in the presence of such a renowned figure in the Kalos region.
“Lysandre, I broke the glasses. I’m sorry.”
The tall man pushed Corbeau’s hands down and touched his cheek. “What happened, Corbeau?”
“Nothing,” he lied right to his face. Philippe was actually shocked he had the nerve to lie like that to Lysandre.
Lysandre looked at Philippe and repeated his question, somehow inherently knowing Philippe was there, “What happened?”
Philippe moved a little closer and lowered his voice politely, “A group of guys grabbed him and wanted to beat him up. They got a few punches in before… one of the punches knocked off his glasses. It’s not the kid’s fault. Wasn’t a fair fight.”
“Thank you for bringing him here.”
They both looked at him before Lysandre told Corbeau off about getting into trouble but brought it back to worrying about him and his safety. But the part that got Philippe was that he urged him not to be anxious about the glasses since that wasn’t his fault—Corbeau fought that for some reason.
“I broke them. I could’ve avoided those thugs, so it’s my fault they broke.”
“They were a gift. You don’t owe me anything for them. I’ll give you a replacement pair if you promise to be more careful with yourself.” Lysandre took the glasses. “You’re lucky your friend was looking out for you.”
“Philippe!? Not my friend.”
“A friend is someone who looks out for you and helps you when you need it. Whether or not you are labeling it that, he is a friend to you. I suggest you cultivate that friendship instead of denying it. He could be of great assistance to you in the future.”
“Philippe.” Lysandre got his attention.
Philippe nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on him, sir.”
“You don’t have to. Corbeau’s usually capable of taking care of himself, but please, maintain this bond. Even if for now it’s merely a bond of convenience, you are invaluable to Corbeau.” He opened the hand with the broken glasses. “Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yes, I do.”