Witness. He needed a witness, to the date he began. The gym leader herself would not suffice. Hands fisted, the tempest that was [[character:Dakarai N'Sehla]] paced up and down along the length of the reception desk in the [[place:Njoty:Pterygotamorphic Pokémon Science Center]]. Fuck, where were people when you needed them? His lips twist to a fierce frown, brows furrowing, left hand's fingers fidgeting across the loops of his belt as if hoping to hook into them, only to change their mind. He'd rung the bell - once only, as was courteous - hoping to hear from the receptionist, but they weren't at the desk, and there was no motion suggesting this would change soon. Where were they? [[character:Dr. Kelebek|Kelebek]]'s office? [[character:Cecile Madhukar|Madhukar]]'s gym? Somewhere else entirely? The basement, dusting off old files? Not knowing gnawed at his synapses tormentingly.
A small and almost plump woman comes to into view then, walking down the stairs from the Gym. "I'm Elyssa. How may I help you?" she asks, walking behind the desk and sitting down. She has a bright and sunny smile and she adds: "I'm sorry there was no one here to help you any sooner than this."
Dakarai's smile is a transparently forced one, his irritation plain as day, though his attempt at restraint is equally visible, which makes for an intimidating sight, given the sheer amount of energy at work behind those features. "Yes, well," he remarks, mostly to get back into speech and check if he was still coherent, sliding his thumb through a loop of his trousers and holding onto it as if to keep himself from falling down some pit. "I need a witness," he remarks, solemnly. "I'm going to start the gym circuit today, and I-" Abruptly he stops himself, his gaze off elsewhere, silent for a moment of contemplation. Suddenly, his gaze darts around to Elyssa, fixing her face. "Mrs. Madhukar //is// available today, right?"
Elyssa nods firmly in understanding before she smiles. "Yes, she is. Just go straight up the stairs." She points up the stairs as she speaks before she asks: "How would you like the proof of when you started the Circuit, Sir?" Her voice and tone are polite, but almost distantly so.
"Durable and in multiple instances. I'll keep one of them," he says, simply, succinctly albeit non-specifically, pulling in an abrupt breath through his nose as if to sniff, while letting his gaze drift down and touch his left trouser pocket as his fingers untwine from their grip and both his hands move to search for the wad of money - his only money - that he's keeping on himself. "Whatever a fiver can afford me," he appends, almost absent-mindedly, fingers going through the individual notes as if he were afraid one might be missing.
The woman nods a bit and carefully takes the note and wrinkles her nose before she speaks. "This will cover five copies of it and for them to be laminated," she says, calmly. "What exactly would you like it to say?" she asks, opening a file on her computer and starting to type. "Also, what is your name, Sir?"
"Just need two, then. One for you to safekeep, one for me to trudge around," he says, tugging a fiver from the multicoloured wad. "Wait, what?" he asks, realising he missed something - but quick to find it in his currently so scattered, nervous mind. "Dakarai N'Sehla," he tells her. "That's dee-aye-kay-aye-are-aye-eye for Dakarai, enn-ess-ee-aitch-ell-aye for N'Sehla, enn and ess both capitalised, separated by an apostrophe." His gaze has drifted over to her hands, as if expecting her to be writing it down that fast.
Elyssa almost smirks but not nastily as she quickly types his name then exhales, remaining perfectly calm. "It should only be a couple of moments." The two copies are printed off and she signs both copies then says: "Sign them please, before I laminate them." She looks up at him, with an almost stern look but doesn't say anything further.
"Sign," he repeats, as if she were asking him to do something bizarre and unusual - but he does nod, seizing a biro chained to its hold, sat on the desk as it is, taking the papers with surprisingly little care for crinkling them. Fortunately, they don't. A swift scrawl later, the top paper is energetically shifted, followed by another scrawl on the lower page, before the pen is returned seemingly in the same motion as his other hand seizes the papers and holds them out to her. There's definitely something freakish to this man's outward efficiency. "Please," he says, and it might take her mind a moment to realise that it's a statement of impatience.
The woman maintains professional courtesy and signs them, quickly and efficiently before she takes both sheets of paper and laminates both of them. One copy she hands back to him and the other she puts in a drawer of her desk with a memo added to it. She smiles then, but not warmly. "Have a nice day and good luck in your journey."
Fiver held between index and middle finger, he holds it out to her. "Two for the laminates, three for the safekeeping. Fair?" he asks, simply, straight to the point, fixing her with an almost mesmerisingly energetic stare that is neither nasty nor friendly, but simply exists.
The woman nods, taking the note. "Fair," she agrees. She looks swiftly away, cheeks reddening a little as she puts the money in a safebox before she looks back up at him. She doesn't say anything else though, for once not knowing what else to say and not wanting to repeat herself.
"Then I thank you for your courteousness and swift reaction, ma'am," he bows his head, even as he takes the laminate piece of paper in turn, shrugging his rucksack off his right shoulder. It seems to be quite heavy - but the cause for the weight is not revealed, even as he twists slightly awkwardly, sliding the paper into the rucksack. And then he's straightening again, top of the rucksack falling back down to cover the top, loosely, before taking a deep breath, letting his eyes drift closed as if oblivious to his surroundings.
Elyssa smiles faintly. "Glad to be of service to you, Mr. N'Sehla." she says, calmly, almost coolly but still professionally. She doesn't comment about how heavy the bag seems to be although she wishes to do so. She flicks her red hair over one shoulder then, before pushing the glasses she was wearing further up her nose.
Inhale, exhale - a long, drawn out breath. As it completes, he seems to have ceased breathing altogether, his motions have become that subtle, and his eyes peel open and his gaze is cast upward, toward the stairs, eyes twinkling resolutely. Without another word wasted, he begins a determined stride toward the stairs, lips pulsing in silent recitation of some mantra or stray thought.
The small woman watches him go then turns back to her work, swiftly typing something, her gaze flicking to a piece of paper nearby as she frowns. She does not make sound nor does she look at him again.
{{tag>[raw]}}