Chapter Text
The next morning, you’re awoken by a call from Quasartico, understandably requesting to reschedule your interview.
“Uh… you can just cancel it,” you say, and you can practically see the receptionist’s eyes widen.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m having second thoughts, that's all.”
“If this is concerning the power outage, please know that Quasartico Inc. is doing everything in our power to-”
“No, I know. I think I’m good, though. Thanks.”
You hang up before they can object, and before you can rethink it, finally getting out of bed and stretching. It’s nice to have some natural light after hearing the low buzz of the generator through the whole night.
You notice another note under your door:
Esteemed guest Y/N,
You might find the dining lounge a little fuller today than yesterday; several guests from establishments more severely affected by the blackout have elected to transfer to Hotel Z for the remainder of their trip. A majority of these guests appear to be tourists here for the tournament, and thus will likely spend most of their daytime resting here before venturing out into the night for the event proper.
Even so, for their comfort, I will be abstaining from having breakfast in my usual spot, though they will doubtless ask questions (I do believe Urbain is more prepared now, though).
If, for whatever reason, you wish to join me for breakfast, I shall be in my study on the second floor; the door is open. Perhaps it’s unprofessional of me to say, but… I quite enjoy our rapport. It’s been nice to chat with a stranger for a change.
Warmly,
AZ
This letter smells of wisteria this time— that flower shop job in high school is making you notice too much.
You decide to scoot over to the dining lounge first, at least to grab a croissant. As you head downstairs, though, you hear increasing commotion…
There’s about two dozen people here in the lounge, not counting their Pokémon out of their balls, roaming around and out into the hallway. Conversation is loud, raucous, and solely about the tournament; you’ve never been super into Pokémon battles (as blasphemous as that feels to say in this world) and you’ve only ever had a Mareep at your parents’ place. She wasn’t very inclined towards battling (unless you count the static shocks you’d sometimes suffer while playing with her), but your folks didn’t seem to mind that, simply keeping her company.
You quietly duck into the buffet line, and the variety is slightly different today: egg and tomato tartine, yogurt dotted with various berries, and thankfully, coffee— that seems to be a mainstay here in Lumiose. You plate yourself and… stand awkwardly for a moment, indecisiveness shackling you.
While he likely wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t stop by, you still feel pretty bad for AZ. Relegating himself to his office out of fear of frightening his own guests… that’s not fair. At the same time though, you’re still getting over your fear of him, somewhat. You’d probably be a trembling mess in front of him…
Better to face your fears, though, right?
You shuffle to the stairwell, taking a few extra sips of your coffee so there’s less of a risk of spillage. Once you scale the stairs, you peer out to find the same door open as last night— his study.
Cautiously, you approach the door, peering inside it at last; there’s hundreds of books the size of trucks lining the built-in mahogany bookshelves, and a truly huge area rug with fibers the width of your fingers. A giant armchair sits atop it, each leg like a tree trunk; you can easily walk below it. (You briefly wonder why he has two chairs in his size, but perhaps he just likes this one.)
Behind that is a massive plateau of an office desk, again of rich dark mahogany, and presumably the man himself is behind it, though he’s completely obscured from your view by the armchair. There’s a huge candlestick at the edge of the desk, burning brightly to compensate for the low illumination of the backup generator’s lights.
You swallow, attempting to steady your shaking hands— you don’t want to lose your food over something that should be trivial. Cautiously, you step inside, diligently scanning to try and see if he’s even there…
Ah. Floette.
She’s sitting toward the edge of the desk you can see; she locks eyes with you and chirps, quickly flitting over to you, a big smile on her face. You’d wave if you weren’t carrying food.
“Hmm?”
You hear his voice from deep within the study, and feel the ground rattle beneath you as he pushes out his chair and stands; you can just barely see his shock of white hair from above his desk now, as he cranes his neck to see where Floette went off to.
Floette rests her giant flower in the crook of her neck and holds out her hands, looking at you expectantly.
“Huh?” you look down at your food. “… Oh. Th-thank you.”
She takes it, flying back up to the desk; you cautiously tread around the armchair, and you can now see that the strange pattern on the desk is in fact a set of stairs up to its surface.
“Y/N? Is that you?” his voice rumbles out, and you finally see him as he clamps an enormous hand on the opposite edge of his desk, peering down right at you.
You meekly nod at first, and then realize he probably can’t see that gesture from that distance. “Y-yeah,” you squeak out.
A Skitty-like smile creases his eyes. “Welcome. Please, come up here and have a seat.” His hand traces toward the stairwell you noticed earlier, and you diligently scurry over to it.
Guess this is my morning workout… You hike up what feels like 5 or 6 stories, maybe more, before finally reaching the top of the desk, where he sits, watching you wheeze for a moment.
“Lotta stairs in this hotel,” you mumble, hoping he doesn’t hear that.
“Indeed.”
You freeze, your face growing hot; you see your food on a table beside a little armchair and meekly shuffle over to sit.
“Sorry…”
“No, do not apologize. I’m still sorting out how to approach accessibility here…” He takes a sip from another gigantic coffee mug like the day before, but this one’s handle has clearly been broken and repaired in the past. Atop his plate is a huge, half-eaten tartine and a peeled orange the size of a Cetitan. “I briefly attempted to use the same doorknob mechanism as I use, but first-time guests found it confusing. It only really stuck for employees-only areas.”
That actually does make you think. “Is the building, um… too old for an elevator?”
He sighs. “No… and that’s probably the most straightforward solution, but I’d likely have to vacate the hotel and dispel all the magic while it’s being constructed. I’d prefer a solution I can institute without tearing down everything I’ve already built. Likely some sort of teleportation pads could work…”
He briefly disappears into his own thoughts before he blinks, realizing what he’s doing. “Apologies! I hardly welcomed you in before ‘oversharing’, as Taunie would call it. How are you?”
You laugh nervously, stirring your yogurt as a sort of soothing gesture. Are you that easy to talk to…?
“I’m okay. Kinda, uh, trying to figure out what to do…”
“Ah, did Quasartico reschedule your interview?”
“I-I, uh… I cancelled it.” you break eye contact, as what you’ve done finally dawns on you. You’re basically in Kalos for no reason, now…
“… I see.” He leans against his hand, inspecting you further. “Are you still searching for employment?”
You sigh. “Y-yeah, but… but I’ve been searching forever. Visual marketing’s… really competitive, and it’s hard to get your foot in the door-”
“That wasn’t an accusatory question. I hope you know that.”
You blink. “Oh. Y-yeah, totally… right.” You’ve been told off about your job search by your dad so often now, despite literally sending out hundreds of applications… Sometimes he makes you want to go to grad school just to spite him.
“How long are you in Kalos?” he asks.
“Just until Saturday. I don’t have a work visa yet. And my brother Noa’s wedding in Alola is two weeks from now, so I can’t just stay anyway…”
“Have you enjoyed Lumiose City so far?”
You nod. “It’s nice, aside from the blackout, heh. It’s not as hot, and like… only a few people have been standoffish, which is better than everyone, like I was afraid of.”
He chuckles, removing a segment from his orange. “The people of this city are very particular about their own schedules; foreigners aren’t disliked, so much as encouraged to ask their concierge for aid, rather than… someone likely in a hurry.”
“Yeah, I figured that out. Castelia City in Unova’s kinda similar, in that sense. I worked there for around 5 years, but…” you sigh. “Layoffs.”
Floette trills sadly; you didn’t realize the Pokémon was so invested in your employment woes until now. She’s listening intently, laying on her tummy like she’s gossiping at a sleepover.
“I-I’ll be fine, Floette. I’m just with my parents right now. Got too homesick to live in Unova without a job…”
AZ looks deep in thought, looking out the expansive window behind him; a facsimile of the Lumiose skyline, blown up to his size. He sits in silence for a moment, but it feels like several minutes, with how slow and deep his breaths are.
He reaches for a drawer on his desk. “… I do not mean to impose, but…”
A flop sweat immediately douses your forehead. “Oh, gosh. N-no, you don’t have to… I-I dunno how much help I’d be around here, anyway.”
“This is not a pity offer, Y/N.” he fetches a business card from the drawer, looking it over carefully. “If anything, I feel rather foolish for not realizing that I might need someone with a keener eye than… myself. I am earnestly interested in doing business with you, if you’ll have me.”
He slides it toward you, and it magically shrinks from your height to the size of a normal card. You curiously pick it up, inspecting it; It looks handwritten, with dark red ink with a blue tri-petal floral stamp in the corner. It has his name, phone number, and the hotel’s address on it.
He sits back, crossing his legs— you feel one knee brush up against the bottom of the desk, around where you’re sitting. “A dear friend has often described me as a hermit. While I hesitate to embrace such a label, for… obvious reasons, it’s perhaps true in the way I conduct business. I… cannot help but wonder if I need a change of tack.”
“I mean, you make a pretty business card,” you reply, to which he breathes a flattered laugh. “But… uh, to start, I guess, do you have an email?”
His eyes narrow, and he leans forward, peering down at you more than before. “I’ve heard of them, but they’ve never been explained to me.”
You blink, climbing into your chair until you’re cross-legged and idly fanning yourself with the card— you’re engulfed in his shadow now. “Uh, it’s… it’s short for electronic mail. It’s like… internet letters. It’s a lot faster than the post.”
He groans. “It feels like just yesterday that I sorted out how telephones work…”
“I-I mean… I guess you don’t need it, but a lot of places advertise online almost exclusively. It’s… not necessary, but still sort of expected.”
You two take a sip of coffee in near-tandem.
“Well, I will think about it. The way Urbain and Taunie discuss the internet, it’s made me a little apprehensive to even consider using it.”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to actually use it too much… I-I could, um…” you hesitate, realizing what you’re about to stumble into… but he’s probably going to ask anyway.
“Hm?” Yep.
You sigh. “I-I guess, while I work on getting a visa, I could make you a website. I-I don’t have to be here, I can be back in Alola, and the visa’ll probably take a few months anyways.”
He rests his chin on his hands, covering his mouth and urging you to explain further with just a look. You feel another sweat come on, even though you’ve literally made proposals like this dozens of times before.
“Um… A website. It’s like getting a plot of land, or a house. But online. People will know where to find you, they can read more about the hotel. Uh… Th-the website can be changed really easily, too, with just a few clicks. I-I’d let you have full oversight of it, but there’s usually a small monthly fee to a host to keep it up.”
“Like rent.”
“E-Exactly, a-and usually the designer takes a flat rate commission at the start, too. But if you wanna do this, you’d probably need an email, just so we could keep in touch faster… a-and so people can contact the hotel.”
A small smile reaches his eyes. “You’re starting to convince me. You’re quite good at your job, Y/N.”
You swallow. “I-I mean, I-I don’t feel very convincing right now, but if you say so…”
He reaches into his drawer again, extracting a fine red leather checkbook. He slowly, diligently unclasps it and reaches above you for his pen, and you… desperately search for the words to object. This is ridiculous; he hasn’t even seen your portfolio, and you haven’t actually designed a website in years, and he doesn’t even have an email address yet-
Floette seems to notice your small crisis, drifting over and patting your shoulder. You flinch at first, but a shuddering sigh leaves your mouth.
“I’m not gonna stop him, am I?” You whisper, wiping your brow. The Pokémon shakes her head and giggles.
“You may not believe it yourself, Y/N, but I trust you,” He says, clicking his pen with a smirk. “What are your rates?”
…
Once again, you had plans to explore the city today, but you’re paralyzed on your bed, looking at the check you just received. It all went so quickly; he gave you a check, you gave him your contact information, and… the rest of breakfast was a blur.
You couldn’t remember your rate exactly… so he simply made it out for P$500,000. That’s more than you made in a month in Castelia, and definitely over double your actual rate, so you were at a loss for words, but he was insistent. Hopefully your bank accepts it…
But this could be fun. It’d give you something to do while waiting for your visa to be approved, and if you can get in the good graces of someone who pays this well, you’ll make the best damn website you’ve ever seen.
I guess this is him preemptively hiring me…
As you’re scanning the Kalos visa site, you hear a knock on your door. Opening it, you find Urbain.
“Oh! Uh, hey,” you say, before getting a better look at his face. He’s incredulous at best, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms.
“Hey, quick question; what’d you tell Boss that finally got through to him?”
You blink. “Uh, what do you mean?”
“We’ve been telling him this place needs a website for years,” he replies, finally smirking a little. “He’s always like, ‘oh, woe is me, this place is so lonely,’”— a part of his imitation of AZ involves clasping his hands close to his chest, which is amusingly accurate— “and Taunie and I’ve tried to get him to let us make something, but… nope.”
You chuckle. “Well, I’ve been in marketing for almost a decade. I still, uh, need to get used to being around him, but maybe he just needed it explained in simpler terms.”
He scoffs, still smiling as he adjusts his posture. “Maybe, maybe… Uh, but for real, since all of this is happening, I thought I’d give you me and Taunie’s email. Just in case he doesn’t bother to set one up until after you leave.” he passes you a folded-up piece of notepad paper, in which he’s scribbled his address, as well as his sister’s.
“Thanks,” you say with an equal grin. “Oh, uh… right. You can nix the wake-up call tomorrow.”
He blinks, trying to remember, before nodding. “Will do. Lemme know if you're still looking for something to do in the city.”
“Yeah! I will. Thanks.”
He gives a casual salute and walks off.