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[It's honestly not till Nanu speaks that Guzma even shifts or stirs. His total dead weight against the door further emphasizing how dead to the world he was until then. As he shifts and grumbles to himself, he doesn't seem fully awake—even as he brings his hands to his face to rub at his eyes before peeking up at Nanu from behind his hood.

There's a little discoloration and redness to what Nanu can see of his face, like Guzma's been punched a few times, and he certainly has. But as Guzma starts to come fully into consciousness, there's suddenly a shift in the air, like tension is being placed on everything around him, and the windows and door of the house begins to rattle from it. Even the bottle that's besides Guzma suddenly shatters, while Guzma doesn't even react.]

Edited (wow that wording needed some work) 2019-04-27 03:35 (UTC)

[Oh, Nanu can tell what sort of night Guzma must have had just by one whiff of whatever was in that bottle. Or whatever was in what's left of what used to be a bottle. As soon as it shatters, both the meowth and the cat go running further inside to hide, and even a few pokémon from the back come to see what's up.]

[With the door open as much as he can get it with the big guy in the way, Nanu squeezes out of the house and shuts the door behind him. Whatever's made that kind of effect go off shouldn't extend inside to bother everyone else. And besides—one look at Guzma's face tells a lot of the story.]

[He stands over Guzma, arms crossed.]

What the hell happened to you?

[He could be reasonable and shift forward, letting Nanu not have to squeeze himself through the door to get to him, or he could continue to be a miserable lump barring his door. Guzma ever so maturely picks the latter. Once Nanu's free, though, and in front of him, Guzma doesn't really look at him anymore. Stuffing his hands into his jacket's pockets, he leaves the hood up, as if it's hiding him with some weird ostrich-logic.]

Nothin' good.

[His voice sounds rough and shitty, like he's giving attitude that Nanu doesn't deserve. He knows he doesn't deserve it, hell he came here for help, but he's also at a loss as to how he can even ask, let alone say, what's wrong. He feels like a goddamn fool, and he's certainly acting the part.]

Came here to talk.

[As if that wasn't obvious.]

[He can only guess how long Guzma's been out here, and figures that at least the guy's not drunk anymore. Regardless, Nanu doesn't really pay attention to the attitude, since it's the norm. Even their little talk wouldn't change that for much, he figures.]

[His tone of voice isn't exactly polite either, but it doesn't sound nearly as rough as Guzma's. Tired, sure, like coffee hasn't kicked in yet; but not like he's spent the night getting into bar fights. That gives him a little more bother.]

Uh-huh. That why you've become our makeshift doorstop?

[Prime talking location.]

Tch...

[He knows Anabel's in there, and he's not sure if he could handle another confrontation with her with any grace at this point. Like, he ordinarily has none with her anyways, but he's in no state to even try, but he needs Nanu. Thus his solution of waiting here. It's hardly a perfect plan, in fact, it's pretty fucking stupid, but Guzma wasn't sure what else to do.

He finally looks up at Nanu proper—and the older man can see more of the damage. There's dried blood under one of his nostrils, some scrapes on his cheek that's recently started to scab, a split lip, and beyond some redness and myriad bruising, he's got a black eye. Honestly, he just looks like shit.]

Would you have preferred I let myself in?

[Because for half a second he certainly considered it, but in a rare stroke of common sense, he didn't. Choosing instead to not bother Nanu, except by being a mild inconvenience to his front door.]

[As Nanu peers down, the newly revealed wounds on Guzma's face don't surprise him in the least. Maybe not expected, but not surprising. He un-crosses his arms and takes a good look at the other man, signature eyebrow still cocked.]

[He can't argue against that, not that he wants to. It's likely Nanu will invite him inside to at least treat his injuries, but not until things are set straight. The important thing is that Anabel wouldn't mind if it was Nanu making the call.]

You look like crap. You gonna tell me what happened?

[Guzma's being unusually considerate, despite the circumstances. Nanu doesn't know what to make of it.]

Got into a fight, what's more to tell?

[He's being cagey. Not that Guzma wasn't cagey at the worst of times normally, but this stinks of something else. Something a little deeper. Even he knows he's being ridiculous, falling into his old patterns because he feels vulnerable. He looks away from Nanu, lowering his head a bit as he slouches down into himself.]

—well... I haven't been home in a week.

[There. That tips Nanu off to something other than Guzma's usuall hoodlumisms.]

[Guzma just gets an even look; a stare. As if he should know that sort of thing doesn't cut it, and never has with Nanu. The supplemental information, at least, sheds some sort of light on the situation. He narrows his eyes, finally seeming somewhat perplexed.]

Yeah, Jill mentioned she hadn't seen you around lately. Didn't know you were intentionally AWOL.

[He doesn't need to keep asking questions to get Guzma to keep going. The younger man should know it's implied.]

—Did she?

[He lets out a dejected puff of air, and the tension seems to return around him. Thinking about it gets him on edge, and that rattle returns to the house, Guzma barely even noticing it.]

Somethin' upset me. Didn't feel like going home would do any good.

[Yet doing his hobo thing, getting drunk, and fighting did good by comparison? He's still being vague, because he feels vulnerable being outside talking about this. However, he's not sure he'd feel great inside either. Anabel's there, after all.

Honestly, there's not anything that would really make him feel more comfortable talking about this. He doesn't want to tell Nanu it's Jill, so he decides to omit any of that. Taking in a slow and steady breath, he decides it's better to just get it over with, than to drag this out any longer. Besides, his lip smarts as he keeps talking, and that's a little bit of a motivator in this.]

There's someone I have a thing for. Decided to tell 'em, didn't go how I wanted. Didn't want to subject Jill and Archie to my shit attitude about it, so I haven't gone home.

[There's a pause, before he adds:]

And I don't know what to do with myself.

[Yeah, Guzma's not great at hiding things. Not in a world where emotions physically manifest, at least—and definitely not when Nanu already knows this so-called secret. Jill's "joke" wasn't all that much of a joke. And the fact that the tension in the air doubles when Nanu mentioned Jill's admission would have given it away to someone like him, anyway.]

[He's managed to surprise Nanu for once, though. Not only that Guzma has a thing for someone, but that he admitted it? But not just to Nanu, but to the actual person themself? It's hard to picture. It's unfathomable. It's almost like it has to be the work of some...different.........]

[...Nanu remembers what specific festival took place a week ago.]

[Ouch.]

[With a sigh, the older man runs a hand through his hair, looking less annoyed but no less bothered. He declines to call Guzma out on the true reality that Nanu understands, though at some point he'll have to make it apparent that he already knows the full story. Right now, though, he ends up dropping his arms into his usual slouch, tiredly looking back down at Guzma.]

You want t' come inside? [a beat, as he remembers...] Anabel's out back.

[Nanu's certainly not wrong, the festival did indeed lead to confidence in an area that otherwise would have gone untouched for far longer. Guzma's rarely the sort to travel down such an avenue, he's so unfamiliar with it, unskilled in such a department, that he'd sooner just let things fall into place, than say anything at all. In romantic endeavors, particularly with women, he's more likely to let them lead the way, than to do it himself. This experience has only reminded him of why. Guzma may be an arrogant fool, but he's often one where the territory is familiar, where he knows he can plant a good foothold and keep steady. This is, decidedly, not such terrain.

There's a notable relief to some of the tension, and the vibrations nearly stop when Nanu doesn't make a jab at him over this. He's come to expect that sorta shit from Nanu, and in a self-detructive way he was almost hoping to hear it. Hoping to have Nanu tear him down a little, just like he wanted to get roughed up (of course while roughing someone else up in the process). But it doesn't come. And since it doesn't, it actually makes him realize how much he doesn't want to be tore into.

His emotions are an utter mess right now, and he doesn't know what he wants. He knows what he needs, generally, which is help. But his mind is such a swirling mess of confusion, self-doubt, and self-hatred that he can't help himself but want to get a little fucked up, even if there's a better part of his mind that wants actual help. Comfort. Guidance.

Wordlessly, and almost sheepishly he nods as he starts to get up. Hissing slightly as he does so, his tired and aching muscles are rather upset with him, but on top of that drinking the night before and sleeping like he did—where he did, helped nothing at all. There's certainly a wobble to him as he stands, using the door behind him to steady himself. A normal person would have let Nanu open the door to let them in, instead, Guzma just does it, opening the door and walking in before Nanu.]

[Nanu's not sure what he expected.]

[He grabs the door before it closes and follows Guzma into his own house, and shuts the door behind them once inside. The curious felines who alerted Nanu to his presence are still under the couch after his bottle broke; two pairs of eyes watching closely as the unfamiliar man comes in with their owner. Persian's there, too, lounging on top of the couch to keep her own watch for Nanu to come back in.]

[Most of the other pokémon are in the backyard with Anabel, who's most likely gardening or just spending time with them. Guzma can probably hear the shrill cries of Sableye and Weavile as they make trouble, or hear the low rumbles of Raikou and Entei as they bask in the sun. But for now, the only pokémon are ones that Guzma already knows, so there shouldn't be any surprises in store for him.]

[Persian makes a small sound of greeting, tail flicking back and forth as she watches the two men. Nanu's not going to tell Guzma that he can sit—that should be obvious enough. He does gesture toward the couch and another open chair adjacent to it, at least, as he shuffles back into the kitchen to grab his coffee.]

You want anything? Just made coffee.

[...He's going to bring Guzma a cup regardless of his answer. In addition to his injuries, Nanu can only imagine what a hangover he must have.]

[Whatever Guzma's choice to sit or stand, or reply, Nanu shuffles back in only a brief moment later and holds out a mug for him.]

[This. This is what he should expect.

Once inside, Guzma stops a little ways in, looking around the place for the first time. Strange that he's never thought to stop by and bother Nanu before now, but he supposes that was by and large because he was busy getting up to no good. And while he's always had a weird take on respect for Nanu, it's never been to the degree it is now.

He looks to the cats... though the non-Pokèmon catches his attention and he gives it an odd look. He's not sure if he'll ever get used to the non-Pokèmon here, they look so strange by comparison. While Guzma gives Persian an acknowledging nod, Nanu's question in contrast does indeed go unanswered, because right now Guzma's not entirely sure what he wants. Even with something as simple as coffee. Though, he's never been much of a fan, not that he'll turn it down when Nanu comes back and gives it to him.

Deciding that he should sit, instead of standing around like a Donphan in the room, he makes his way to the couch. Even if Persian isn't his Pokèmon, and his affinity is far more with bugs, there's just... something comforting about being near a Pokèmon. He's not even fully aware that's why he chose the couch over the chair.

When Nanu returns, he'll find Guzma sitting on the middle portion of the couch, with his elbows resting on his knees, slouched over his lap. His head hanging. His glasses are in his left hand, though the hold is loose. His hood is still up and blocking his face. His breaths are slow and shallow, but they're noticeable. He's a pitiful sight, to be sure.

It takes him a second to notice Nanu's there, and peeking up just enough to see the mug, he takes it. He doesn't take a drink, not yet, instead he seems fit to just hold it for now, letting his head hang again.]

[The house, while big enough to accommodate their pokémon, is pretty modest. Anabel does any decorating she wants, with Nanu just going with it. And just like his police station-turned-home back in Alola, there's an abundance of pet beds and toys. For the ones who can fit inside, of course.]

[The cat and meowth ran from under the couch to under the adjacent chair, once the larger man sat. Guzma's choice of seat doesn't surprise him. That unspoken feeling is one they share, and indeed much like the rest of those brought from the pokémon world. Though Nanu and Anabel met the same day they both arrived, he knew that if they'd come without their pokémon, the depression would be even deeper. Persian knows this as well, on some level; without prompting, she stretches her legs further into the couch and closer to Guzma, her tail curling by his nearest leg.]

[Taking the open chair, he sits down with his own mug and takes a sip. It's black, just like he likes it—though he neglected to tell Guzma that... Well, at least there's sugar in the kitchen if he needs it.]

[With nothing but silence between them, Nanu doesn't pry. He waits for Guzma to start talking on his own terms.]

[He barely even noticed the two scramming from the couch when he chose the seat. His mind busy as it is, but he does notice how Persian shows that small amount of affection. He's not as familiar with felines, but he gets it. He does have his own Liepard who has done well to socialize him to the affections of cats, after all. No expert like Nanu, still.

He takes a few more moments of silence before taking a sip from the coffee. It results in a look of disgust and snort of surprise at how bitter it is. It's a wonder he didn't drop it or spit it. Instead, he resigns to the initial drink, swallowing it like he was swallowing lead. If there was any question on whether or not he was still sleepy before, he's certainly awake now.

Finally he brushes the hood off of his head, leveling a look at Nanu that's more serious than what's natural for him, but that's the nature of this whole thing, isn't it?]

I'm shit at this, Nanu.

[He admits freely, not even knowing where to start, but knowing he needs to. Nanu's doing him enough of a service harboring him like this, he can't also lead the conversation that's entirely for his own benefit. With a quick inhale (something made a little hard with his swollen nose), he settles back against the couch, letting his hands settle in his lap, cupping the mug there as he tries to decide if he wants to suffer it further, or ask for a metric fuck ton of sugar.

Finally, he speaks again:]

What's wrong with me, huh?

[Which is a question that's akin to opening Pandora's box, but... here he is, asking it all the same. Of course, the question isn't meant so generally, but Guzma's never been good at specifics.]

[Had this been his police station, Guzma would be inundated by Meowth by now. Even Persian's not as expectant of attention as she would be; she's a smart judge of circumstance. If Guzma wants to pay attention to the pokémon, he will.]

[Nanu sighs, setting his mug on the coffee table. That's a loaded question, and one that would normally have been met with a laundry list of snide remarks. Now that things have changed—and Guzma so clearly broken by this—the idea is nothing more than a fleeting thought in the back of his mind. ...Even if this is nearly the equivalent of a high schooler moping from being rejected by their crush.]

[First, though, he definitely caught that reaction to the coffee, and Nanu finally remembers that all of Guzma's teeth are sweet. It's early, okay? He gets up with a groan and pops back into the kitchen, though responding on the way instead of appearing to ignore or put off the other man.]

Have you done something like this before? [He's quick to return, no more than a few seconds, and sets down a small jar and spoon: sugar. Then he returns to his seat, settling in again.] That might be part of it.

[For once, no judgement here. Nanu couldn't possibly care any less about other people's romantic exploits or lack thereof. Again: even if this is the equivalent of a high schooler moping from being rejected by their crush...]

[Honestly, he probably wouldn't have even complained at being covered by Meowth, it'd be a sorely needed measure of comfort, but for now this is enough.

When Nanu rises from his seat, Guzma looks at him with a little bit of surprise—but when Nanu replies, it settles him. There was a light fear that Nanu was just going to blow him off. This newly formed relationship of theirs was still in its infancy, still new, and it's a fragile thing.]

Not really, no.

[He answers without thinking as he puts probably far too many spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee. This might be moping like a high schooler over a rejected crush, but he takes his coffee like a goddamn elementary schooler. It's not till he's stirring it in that he realizes how that might have sounded, and with a bit of needless gruffness he adds:]

Not that I ain't been laid plenty of times—don't twist this into somethin' it ain't. It's more I ain't really one for... this sorta shit.

[What he means is feelings, if that wasn't obvious. Not that he hasn't had them plenty, but he's never been one to actively pursue them like this. Even with his misplaced feelings for Lusamine, feelings he still isn't fully certain on anymore, it was a situation more under her control, than his. And even then, she was hardly good news for him.

This whole thing with Jill, it was different. More vulnerable, more trust, more care. For once he wasn't getting himself wrapped up in trouble, and even then it ended up hurting him.]

[Nanu simply gives Guzma a level, deadpan stare that implies his thoughts much more efficiently than simply rolling his eyes would. About how necessary it really was for him to hear that.]

[Just because he doesn't care about other people's exploits doesn't mean he's cool with hearing about them.]

[Not that he's going to act like a child, like some other fellows in the room. But that's what he brought the sugar out for; and when he finally breaks that deadpan, "seriously, Guzma" stare, it's to take a sip from his plain coffee. He can't tell if Guzma knows that he already knows it's about Jill. Blurting it out apropos of nothing, as is Nanu's usual wont, seems a little too callous. And while not nearly as severe as the changes the other man's made since their pact, Nanu's modifying some of his own ways as well.]

So, then. You going to tell me more about it?

[The incident, for Tapu's sake, please, not a play-by-play of his sexual escapades.]

[The look gets an exasperated and almost defensive expression from Guzma as he settles back against the couch. Look man, he just wanted to make it clear that it's not a matter of him not being able to get laid, alright? He might have a lot of issues, but getting booty ain't one of them!

Placing his glasses besides him, he does finally reach over to pet Persian, appreciating the feel of her soft fur against his rough hand. There's just nothing like petting a Pokèmon to sooth one's emotions. Of course it's hardly a cure all, but it helps.

Of course the shithead part of Guzma definitely entertains the thought of derailing this due to Nanu's vagueness of what he's asking him to talk about, but the part of him that's still hurting and has respect for the older man keeps him in check. Maybe another time he'll regale Nanu on shit he never asked to hear, but not now.]

...Yeah.

[He takes a sip of his coffee, now more tan in color than the black bitter abyss it was before. Tolerable, but it's no Tapu Cocoa.]

I dunno exactly why I thought it was a good idea, lookin' back it seems so damn stupid... but, it made sense at the time. She and me've known each other for a while now, yeah? And we get on great, figured it'd just make sense if we... took shit past just bein' friends. Ain't like we haven't been a little intimate in the past—not that we fucked or nothin', but...

[His mind, of course, goes to the night of her return. When she broke out of that crystal. The emotions there were deep and real, and then they held each other and slept in each other's arms... Guzma's not sure what he was supposed to make of that, how he was supposed to interpret it.]

Maybe I'm just an idiot, and I saw things that weren't there.

[Which is entirely possible when you're this lonely and you're looking for attention, validation, and acknowledgment. And here's Jill, giving him all of that and more. Making a positive difference in his life, when the person before her who did that was anything but positive.]

Ji—She wasn't cruel or nothin' when she let me down. But maybe... I kinda wish she had been. Mighta been easier if I could have been mad at more than myself.

[Taking his hand from Persian, he runs it through his messy hair, his expression hardening to a frustrated and pained scowl as his eyes focus on the contents of his cup.]

...Even then, I don't think I'd have been mad at her, even if she did treat me like shit during that whole thing.

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