The North side park was annoyingly crowded as the three walked the short distance across the soft grass to one of the few free picnic tables. All around them, the voices of tourist and native Ceruleans echoed in their ears as children ran about and wind blew the tops of the abundant shade giving trees far above their heads. "This place was a real forest when I was growing up," commented Misty sadly as she set down her tray, "It's scary sometimes how things change when you leave and come back after such a long time." Frank nodded as he sat down across from Miranda as she sat beside Misty. "Yeah, but I guess you have that problem every year," he agreed, glancing at Miranda. "Not really," said the woman with a shrug, filling her teacup as Nezumi grabbed several fries off Frank's tray and disappeared under the table, "But then, not much changes in Lavender from year to year. Mom still wants me to spend more time at home, a few more morons think they can just walk into the tower and capture ghosts, and Aunt Laurna wonders why you left her at the alter." Frank nearly choked on his hamburger, causing Misty to smile and try not to laugh. "Hey, I said I'd talk about that later," he replied nervously, pounding his chest to make sure he didn't choke. "It is later," persisted Miranda with a knowing smile as she picked up her father's handleless cup and took a sip of her tea. Frank sighed heavily and nodded. "Look, I really have no excuse," he replied, staring down at his food and linking his fingers in front of him before glancing up at Miranda apologetically, "As I said, things just got weird between us. Too routine, I suppose. I dunno, I just had this image in my mind of turning into one of those boring middle-aged men with almost no hair, and my pants pulled up to my neck. And I don't even want to think about what our kids would turn out like! Especially with all those ghosts she has. Also, Laurna's just too... Too..." "Nice?" offered Miranda, her tone serious but compassionate. Her uncle nodded, glancing up at her before speaking. "Yeah, I just didn't want to change her," he explained, "Here was this wonderful woman who was everything I could ever want, and then there was me, her complete opposite. Where as she has that shy, mysterious quality to her, I'm Mr. Extrovert. Where she's successful, well-liked and smart, I always react without thinking, I wasn't able to hold down a real job until I joined the Pokeforce, and half the people in Lavender thought I was crazy! Where Laurna's all sweet and innocent, I'm... Um, uh..." "A pervert?" offered Misty with a grin, causing Frank to laugh. "That's it!" he admitted, his usual mirth returning immediately, "I guess I just couldn't stand the thought of 'corrupting' her, you know?" "Wow," chuckled Miranda sympathetically as she reached across the table and gave her Uncle's hands a reassuring squeeze, "As much as you try to deny it, you are a gentleman." "What?!" exclaimed Frank, sitting up straight and looking around nervously, causing his companions to laugh, "Who told you...?!" *** Beneath the picnic table, Nezumi leapt off the bench seat and grinned up at Bow as she stared expectantly up at her trainer. "Yo, pyro-puppy!" he called holding out a French fry, "Ya hungry?" Bow glanced at the rattata and gave him an alarmed look. "Y-yes," she stammered, taking a step back, "But..." "What?" asked Nezumi, taking a bite from the other fry, "They're good." Bow glanced up at Frank in time to see him reach under the table with several small bits of what used to be a French fry in his hand. "There!" the growlithe explained, happily wagging her fuzzy tail, "That's the way to serve food." "What? All cut up into reeeeeeally tiny pieces?" commented Nezumi quizzically, taking a bite of the second potato stick and chewing loudly, "Man, you're one spoiled growlithe!" "Gee," replied Bow, chewing her food with the utmost of dignity and grace, "Next you'll be saying I shouldn't ask for help and just jump onto the couch on my own! What? Were you raised in barn?!" *** "So," asked Frank as the three finished their food, "Do you think they'll be at the restaurant's opening tonight?" "I wouldn't doubt it," responded Miranda with a shrug, "I doubt that that James guy lied about that. Kathy did have her pokemon try to kill him after all." "I guess Rockets just play for keeps," commented Frank, glancing down as his watch chimed. "Hm, looks like Jen's going to be alright," he chuckled, switching back from the pager setting to chronometer. "Is it a threat or a love letter?" teased Miranda, grinning slyly as her uncle looked distressed for a moment. "With her? Both!" he laughed, dropping his hands on the table before getting to his feet, and glancing at his lunch companions, "Anyway, I'd best get down there and see how she is, otherwise I'll never hear the end of it... Bow! Let's go, girl!" "Have fun," his niece chuckled as Bow ran out from under the table and ran around his feet excitedly, "Oh, and thanks for the help." "Twern't nothin' ma'am," Frank replied with a wide grin in his best cowboy accent before glancing at Misty, "Nice meeting you, eh. It's good to see Miri happy." "Just doing my job," Misty laughed, unable to keep a straight face as she tried to make it seem like a huge chore. "Oh, and before I forget," said Frank, turning back to them with a wide grin as Bow ran around him barking at him to hurry up, "I'll be at the restaurant tonight." "Really?" replied Miranda with sudden amused suspicion. "Yup!" agreed Frank with a nod as he stood a little taller, "Jenny and myself received invites seein' as we're this city's most prominent officers." "Meaning you begged, cajoled, and promised to be good until she agreed to take you as her date," corrected his niece, smiling as she saw in his eyes that she was right. Frank laughed a bit and glanced down at the growlithe. "Come on!" he teased before waving good-bye and heading off again, "Get your fur on! Okay, see you there!" "So," chuckled Miranda, reaching under the table and picking up Nezumi as she watched her almost Uncle tease Bow by pretending to get ready to run, "Think we should dress up for this thing? 'Ces Batards De L'autre Cote De La Rue' sounds pretty classy to me. 'Course, I may be assuming that just because the owner seems to be a bit of a snoot." Misty looked thoughtful for a moment, glancing over her shoulder as Miranda laughed when Bow kicked in her 'agility' technique and ran off so fast she missed it, leaving Frank to laugh and call out "Fooled you!" "I suppose," she said a bit sullenly, "But I'm afraid everything nice in my closet once belonged to one of my sisters or other. But I suppose I could undo some of the stitching in one a bit to account for your height-" "That's not what I meant, dear," assured Miranda, reaching over and taking Misty's hand in her own, "I meant that perhaps we should go and pick out something new for us to wear. You've had enough 'hand-me-downs'. It's time you had something new." Misty met Miranda's suddenly serious gaze with a look of both amazed disbelief and admiration. "I- I don't want to drive you into debt or anything," she stammered, feeling too polite to simply accept the offer, "I mean, you're already paying my way wherever we go as is..." Miranda shrugged. "It's nothing," she assured with a dismissive wave of her free hand, "Besides, it's been a few months since I really made my card smoke." Misty laughed a little as Miranda stood up and extracted herself for the picnic table. "Oh, and for the record," added the courier, "I don't think you're 'free loading' or anything. Every day you give me something money can't buy." "Oh?" "Your love..." *** The sign above the door of the little coffee/seamstress shop on Clearwater Lane read simply, "Irene's Textile and Coffee Shop". But the little signs in the window proclaiming, "Pants hemmed before you can blink!" and "Wedding dresses while you wait!" didn't tell the whole story. The proprietor was a friendly looking woman who looked to be in her late thirties, but her friendly blue eyes, which hid behind bifocals spoke of a wisdom at least twice that. She wore a comfortable looking dress whose colour matched her eyes almost perfectly, with a kind of sleeveless vest over it made of a courser material. The vest seemed to be something of the seamstress's version of a tool belt, having dozens of small pockets that overflowed with buttons and thread, while pins and needles of various sizes and shapes poked out of it at odd angles. With a friendly smile and a few kind words, the woman, whose name actually turned out to be Irene, brought Misty and Miranda to of the free tables and brought them a pot of Earl Gray tea before they'd barely had time to open their mouths. "I'm just a little busy right now," Irene explained in a motherly tone before scurrying off into the back room so quickly that neither saw her even move. "She must hate to be bored, I guess," commented Miranda, glancing around at the little shop's collection of what appeared to be homemade art and craft projects. "My mother was like that," agreed Misty, noting the plushy seel that rested atop a shelf lined with mostly books on sewing and several dozen cans of imported coffee grounds, "But she just liked to travel. She wasn't really all that creative." "Just couldn't sit still?" inquired Miranda semi-rhetorically, deciding it would was probably better to use the teacups they'd been brought rather than spend an hour digging into the bottom of her backpack for her own and reached for the teapot. Misty nodded, glancing at the thin beaded curtain that separated the back room from the main area as the powerful motor of an industrial sewing machine filled their ears with its rapid thudding sound. "Just like me, I guess," she agreed once the noise had ceased, replaced by a few muffled words as Irene spoke a few unkind words to the machine through a mouth full of needles. "Well, I'm quite glad you got that trait," commented Miranda as Irene stepped out of the back room followed by a somewhat bewildered looking young woman clutching a flat rectangular box protectively, "It'd have to take a desk job if you hated traveling." Misty nodded, not quite hearing as Irene printed the customer off an invoice and handed it to her, causing the woman to stammer in appreciative disbelief. "But-! But-!" she finally managed to say, "The place over on the other side of town said my wedding dress would cost me two thousand, five hundred credits, and you're only charging me two hundred and ten!" "Well, if it wasn't for her need to travel, I'd probably still be living at home," continued Misty a little sadly as Irene chuckled heartily and accepted the woman's card. "But at least some good came of it," she added rather hastily, smiling up at Miranda's suddenly sullen expression, "I wouldn't have met you otherwise." "Actually," corrected Miranda, thinking back, as Irene hurried over to their table, "We'd have met sooner. Although I'm not sure we'd be sitting here right now." Misty's comment was cut short by the proprietor's sudden appearance. "So! What'll it be, ladies?" she inquired cheerily, "Just hear for a bite to eat, or do you need something hemmed? I noticed your jeans need mending, miss." Miranda gave a bit of a startled look, surprised that the woman had noticed the holes that were forever forming at the knees of her jeans. "Um, actually we were looking into getting something to wear over to that new restaurant tonight." Irene quickly stifled a negative comment but her disapproval was subtly evident. "I see," she said, thoughtfully rubbing her chin for a moment, "Well, I have a book over by the counter if you'd like to take a look. Just remember, that you can change the colours, and fabric to your liking. As well as mixing and matching if you don't find exactly what you're looking for." "I take it you don't like that place too much," commented Misty as the woman lead them over to the counter and took out a huge tome. Its outer cover was made from ancient leather carved with arcane looking runes and had long ago started fraying at the edges. As it hit the counter, the book that would have Merlin's grimiore look like a paperback sent a cloud of dust into the air. A moment later, and Irene had unlocked the impressive looking latch with a huge black skeleton key before prying open the volume to reveal hundreds of thousands of pages. Many had been taken from pattern books and fashion magazines, most of which had gone out of print years before Misty or Miranda had been born. Others though were high quality black and white photographs of people in various outfits. The fact that most of the people portrayed bore a resemblance to Irene made them infer that she's used her family to model her creations. Irene shrugged as she flipped past a few hundred pages and turned the tome to face them. "Well, let's just say that I don't think Chef Troy is totally on the level," said the woman confidentially, "And I don't trust any restaurant that won't let me see their kitchen." "Are you a food critic in your spare time?" inquired Miranda with a smile, meaning it in jest as Misty flipped through the tome's pages in amazement. "Goodness, no!" laughed Irene, reaching under the counter and pulling out a plastic bottle full of water and taking a sip, "But I've done my time in my fair share of restaurants, and if they don't meet my standards, I won't eat there." "Hey, you aren't..." began Misty, glancing up at the woman with an amazed looked, causing Irene's grin to broaden as she nodded. "Yes, that was me," she agreed with a chuckle. "Am I missing something?" inquired Miranda, glancing at the dress Misty was indicating. "Irene had the most famous restaurant in Neon Town closed down for health violations several years ago," explained Misty with a touch of awe. "That was a long time ago, miss, but never underestimate the power of a mom," added Irene, shaking her head in amusement, "So, is this the one you'd like?" Misty glanced over at Miranda questioningly. "Can you afford it?" she asked quietly, trying to keep her voice down, but Miranda could see the excitement in her eyes. "Easily," the woman agreed, unable to keep from smiling as Misty gripped the counter, nearly unable to contain herself at the prospect, "Oh, and I guess I'll take this one. In the dark blue if you have it." Irene nodded as she sipped her bottled water. "Not a problem," she assured, motioning for them to follow, "Any ideas about material? I have everything from burlap to mareep wool!" "Burlap?!" they both exclaimed at once. "Just kidding!" laughed Irene as they entered her inner sanctum, "Now one of you just stand on the stool so I can get your measurements..." *** It seemed to take no time at all for the industrious woman to acquire their dress sizes, have them both agree on fabric, and user them out of the comforting clutter of her sewing room. "This won't take long," assured Irene, insisting that they sit on the comfortable looking sofa at the far end of the room and putting their tea on the low table before them before hurrying off again. Before they could even get comfortable, however, the woman hurried out of the back again with a large platter and set it down on the table before them. "Don't let Chef Troy fool you with his so called 'International Cuisine'," warned Irene a touch smugly as her guests stared down in awe at the variety of pastries, cookies, and various healthier delicacies she'd put before them, "This is real international food." Miranda nodded, picking up a square of something that seemed to be layers of a sweet dark substance separated by baked dough. "This is Icelandic, isn't it?" she inquired, taking a bite and immediately feeling her arteries harden as she tasted more sugar than she usually had in a year. Irene nodded. "I hope you like it," she said expectantly, her tone suddenly filled with worry. "I'm sure we will," assured Misty, trying to contain her joy at the unaccustomed hospitality, "But I don't think we can eat it all!" "Hey," chuckled Irene, making her way back to her personal domain, "No one leaves my shop hungry. But if you need too, I don't mind the smaller pokemon helping you out if you have any. Just make sure they don't make a mess." "Thanks!" called Miranda as the woman disappeared before she could react, and pulled out two poke balls. "Time to spoil them, I guess," she said with a wary sigh as Misty tried one of the half circle shaped doughy things near the center and made approving noises at the apple/cinnamon flavor, "Umi! Nezumi! Lunch break!" The two pokemon materialized on the floor, but only Umi was visible, rearing up like the serpent she was to look at Miranda questioningly for a moment before eying the food. As her strangely glowing eyes shifted from purple to bright gold, Nezumi climbed up her neck and leaned forward as he sat atop the dratini's head. "Nez, ra?" he inquired, glancing up at his trainer as she sat back with a handful of different things on a small plate. "Fang Fa- Err, I mean Wraith, doesn't eat, dear," the woman reminded, "Well, 'food' anyway... Besides, he's scared enough people for one week." "Tatta," replied Nezumi with a shrug, before diving off Umi's head and grabbing pieces of three different kinds of cheese, one in each front paw, and one in his mouth. "His nickname for Wraith is as colourful as his for yours, I take it?" laughed Misty as Nezumi made a compete pig of himself while Umi daintily sampled a piece of one of the offensive smelling, but pleasingly sliced kielbasa. "'Fang Face'," agreed Miranda, quickly chewing and swallowing a piece of something she was certain wasn't in the plant or animal kingdoms when it was alive, but still tasted wonderful, "Umi's 'Draco Babe'." "I hate to think what he calls my pokemon." Nezumi glanced up and chuckled as he snatched away the cracker Umi was reaching for, grinning and tossing it back at her when she glared at him with fiercely swirling red eyes. "'The Overgrown Magikarp', 'Shady' and 'Fish-Face'." "Fish-Face?!" exclaimed Misty angrily, leaning down and glaring at the rattata. "Nez!?" he replied, spitting out a mouthful of gouda as he stood on his hind legs and gave her a look of 'What's you're point?'. "Gee, I can't wait 'till you get to know the other three," grumbled Misty, leaning back and glowering at Nezumi in mock anger as Miranda laughed. "He knows you too well," she chuckled, taking a sip of the cooling tea, "He'd be running for his pokeball if he thought you were really mad at him." "Am I really that easy to read?" the trainer inquired, reaching out and scratching Nezumi on the head and making him smile contentedly as Umi gave him a jealous look. "Animals are always more in sync with emotions than we are," explained Irene, appearing beside the table as if by magic, "Now, if I could just borrow you both for a half a second, I have to get you to try these on so I can make the final adjustments." "Already?!" inquired Miranda, astounded as she glanced at her watch, "Wow..." Irene shrugged and headed back into her workshop. "Ah! It's easy," she replied, her voice suddenly muffled by the curtain, "I used to just make myself new clothes before going to work in the morning if I couldn't find anything that I felt like wearing that day. Now come on, this won't take long." True to her word, the dress fitting was over almost before it began. One moment Miranda was standing atop the stool, feeling a little awkward and surprised at herself for even suggesting the idea in the first place, and the next she was sliding back into her normal clothes while Irene slid pins through the fabric of Misty's brightly coloured dress faster than she could follow, but still getting the fit just right. "All done!" the woman announced, helping Misty get out of the garment without getting stabbed a dozen times, "Just give me a few minutes." Miranda blinked, shaking her head in amazement at the speed and efficiency at which the woman worked. "Makes me feel out of breath just watching her," she whispered to Misty as they left the room, causing the girl to chuckle. "But she does a good job, apparently," agreed Misty, smiling as they found the two pokemon in a semi-conscious state lying on the table. Nezumi was lying on his back, holding his bloated stomach, glanced up at the humans as they entered. He smiled and tried to squeak out a reply, but belched loudly instead, waking Umi from her slumber. "Had enough?" inquired Miranda, giving Umi's eye ridges a gentle scratch before sitting down trying to find something the two hadn't devoured completely, "Gee, you'd think I never feed you guys!" "Um, I know I don't want to know this," said Misty, sitting down and looking questioningly at the nearly empty platter, "But earlier you said 'Wraith doesn't eat. Food anyway.' Um, do I even want to know what he does eat?" Miranda chuckled, leaning in close to Misty so that her lips nearly touched her lover's hear. "Dreams," she whispered quietly, her voice sounding mysterious, "Especially bad ones..." She then leaned back, letting her voice trail off as Misty turned to face her. "Is that why you have him?" she asked, her tone sounding concerned. The woman shrugged. "Not really," she explained, "But it's one of the reasons I kept him. After he stopped being a royal pain in the butt, I found that he could take care of a little problem that I was having. Chronic nightmares." "I used to have those," sympathized Misty, taking her lover's hand and giving is a squeeze, "I suppose we have something else in common then." Miranda nodded slowly. "Were they about your parents?" she asked carefully. "Yes and no," her lover replied, leaning against Miranda and closing her eyes as she held her, "Mostly it was just me. All alone in a leaky boat during a storm, calling out to them. They never heard me, and I never found them, but the dreams stopped once I'd left home." "I'm surprised you still love the water so much," Miranda commented quietly, feeling saddened that there was yet another down point in Misty's life she wasn't there to help fix. "Oh, it wasn't the water I was afraid of," she corrected, "It wasn't even the storm really. It was just the feeling of isolation and being trapped. Knowing that I couldn't just go out and search for them made me feel so helpless. And I hate that feeling. Not being in control of my own destiny, not being able to make my own choices without being told what do to three people who can't even make proper decisions in their own selfish lives." "I can't imagine what that's like," confessed Miranda, holding Misty closer, "But whatever you decide to do in the future, I'll support you." "I know, Miri," whispered Misty, looking up at Miranda and smiling happily, "That's one reason I love you." Misty kissed her gently and couldn't help but chuckle as she slid back into a normal sitting position. "It's okay," she called, blushing as she spoke, "You can come in now!" Irene moved the blue and white beaded curtain aside and entered the room wielding two long dresses at arms length. "Okay, I think I have these the way you wanted them," the woman explained without missing a beat, pretending to have heard nothing as she held Miranda's dress a little higher to keep it from dragging, "But I'll want you to try them on before you go. I won't even charge you extra for the alterations." "Wow, thanks," they both replied at once. "Yes, now just go in the back and try them on," the woman explained as a man in a suit entered, displaying a terrible rip in his jacket. The two obeyed, and were soon helping in each other into the nearly completed garments, surrounded on all sides by racks of clothing, bolts of fabric, and an enormous sewing machine that both appeared to rely on vacuum tubes and steam power to operate and looked about a hundred years older than its owner. "You know," commented Miranda, covering up her sudden feeling of nervousness with a chuckle, "I haven't dressed this femininely since before I caught Wraith." "Oh? How long ago was that?" inquired Misty, zipping up the back of Miranda's rather simple dark purple, long sleeved dress. Miranda exhaled loudly, pushing her bangs out of her eyes for a moment as she thought about it. "Oh, going on three years ago now- No, wait! Four I think." "You're such a bad mother!" Misty teased, shaking out the hem of the dress so that it'd stop clinging to Miranda's legs before untying Miranda's hair to give the full effect, "Can't even recall your children's birthdays!" Miranda looked over her shoulder and gave her a questioning look around the smile she tried to hide. "Nezumi is in March, and Umi's in June. Same as me," she replied, her dark locks falling to one side and obscuring her face slightly, "Wraith, though, doesn't recall when he was... 'Created' so we just have his 'un-birthday on Halloween." "I take it all back then," assured Misty mirthfully before becoming somewhat serious in her tone, "Now turn around so I can see you." Miranda nodded, the strange self-conscious feeling returning as she let her arms fall at her sides and spun around, sending the hem of her dress in a bit of a spiral. "Wonderful!" exclaimed Misty, clapping her hands together joyfully as the thing shoulder straps of her own sleeveless garment slid down her shoulders a bit, "Except that you look like you just swallowed a poliwag." Miranda looked away and shook her head slowly. "Sorry, I was just thinking about what my Uncle's going to say when he sees me," she explained, a bit lost in her own thoughts for a moment before snickering and replying, "'Miranda! I never knew you were a girl under there!' Or some such nonsense." Misty smirked, folding her arms across her chest and stepping close before tilting her head to one side and giving Miranda a slight kiss on the cheek. "Well, tell him he has to become 'real' family before he can make fun of you," she said sternly as her lover met her gaze and smiled, "Or I'll see how HE likes wearing a dress!" "The Tower hath no wraith like Misty scorned," the woman laughed as Irene pushed the curtain aside. "Everybody decent?" she inquired politely before hanging the jacket on a ceiling beam and practically ran over to Misty where she promptly tugged at the dress in various spots, sliding more pins through the fabric until it fit just right. "Hm, sorry it doesn't quite fit in the front," the woman muttered, before scurrying over to Miranda with a mouth full of pins, "Now as for you..." Miranda held her arms out to her sides, feeling a little embarrassed as the seamstress poked, prodded, and tugged at the comfortable fitting, but not 'right feeling' dress like a para- zoologist with a new species of pokemon. "Well now," the woman muttered, walking around and around Miranda with a discerning look that slowly became a smile, "I've certainly done it this time, now haven't I? Feel okay, deary?" The courier nodded, glancing at her denim jeans and t-shirt with a hint of longing. "Just fine," she assured her, but Irene stood up behind her and nodded knowingly. "I thought you were the 'tomboy' here, miss," she commented, leaning to one side and catching Misty's eye. "Not completely," the trainer laughed, glancing down at her own dress whose colour matched her eyes, "I guess my sisters ARE good for something after all then... Creepy." Irene chuckled, adjusting Miranda's hair a bit and stepping back. "Yes, almost perfect. Hm, these ARE the undergarments you plan on wearing with this dress, right? Okay good," said the seamstress, working so swiftly it was hard to keep track of her, "So tell me, if you don't mind me asking. Is this your first time out together?" Miranda smiled, finding the flushing of Misty's cheeks endearing. "Well, it'll be the first time we've really gone anywhere nice, or done anything this special," she explained, finding Irene easy to talk to. "Well," the seamstress warned them both sternly, her voice lowering to a whisper as she glanced over her shoulder, "Just don't let that hack Troy try any of those scummy chef tricks on you." "Oh, like what?" inquired Misty as Miranda slipped back out of the dress. Irene met Misty's gaze and looked a bit nervous as she spoke. "I really shouldn't say anything with one of 'Ces Batards De L'autre Cote De La Rue's' waiters out front," she explained as the two leaned in closer to hear, "But I've seen it all. Watering down drinks, serving crappy cuts of meat and telling customers it's fillet minyon, and serving overpriced wine are just the tip of the iceberg! Not that I'm not saying he's going to do any of these things, but I've heard some bad things about him in the culinary community. He gives his whole family a bad name, that one." "Thanks for the warning," Miranda replied, stepping between Irene and Misty to recover her normal clothing. "Oh, and be a dear and help your friend out of her dress would you?" asked Irene, "I have to attend to my other customer. I won't be a moment!" Before they could respond, Irene had disappeared again. Vanishing like a ghost before her friendly voice filtered through the curtain as she laughed at whatever joke the waiter told her. "Think he knows anything?" asked Miranda in a hushed tone as she carefully pulled the dress down off Misty's shoulders to where it collected near the floor and her friend could step out of it. "If he does, I doubt that he'd tell us anything," Misty replied, not totally convinced, "He's either hired help, or he's a Rocket. Presumably one that Kathy isn't trying to kill." Miranda chuckled at the thought as she picked up Misty's dress and hung it on a hanger next to her own. "Well, while I know I may be running the risk of forming a clich'," she said thoughtfully, looking to see if either Irene or the waiter were going to come in at any moment, "but I could send Wraith to check the place out after hours. Although for all we know, this Troy guy's involvement with Kathy is just on a professional level. Villains need to eat too!" "Possibly," Misty agreed, "But what about the umbreon?" Miranda nodded. "That's why I'm sending Nezumi too," she explained, "They're both stealthy in their own ways, and together they can handle quite a bit if things go wrong. Now we just have to hope that they all have a big red 'R' above the ovens or on the cooking utensils all have 'Property of Team Rocket' engraved on them." "You don't sound totally convinced," commented Misty, shuffling back into her normal clothes. Miranda shrugged, pulling the curtain aside in time to see Irene returning with the ripped jacket. "Not completely, but maybe if we're all there in the same place, something will happen." "With Frank and Officer Jenny there?" commented Misty under her breath, "Not likely..."
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