The next time Salt's perception coalesces into existence around and within him, timeless stasis dissipating just shy of an impression of never having happened in the first place, instinct of course is that he's been called out for another battle. The most obvious indicator of the change of scene is that he's no longer hurting - he remembers passing out a while ago, though the details a fuzzy in his memory beyond the sting of cold. The architecture looks familiar, though… and if there weren't a table in the middle of the room, it might be a plausible area for some sort of rematch. Instead, Dakarai is nowhere to be seen. Instead, his opponent is crouched on the tiles beside Salt, briefly spawning the unpleasant mental image of having been traded to another trainer, of having done badly enough to be discarded by his master.

Forelimbs are rubbed together as he looks around for his trainer. Dakarai would be here. Would he be upset? Losing was bad but his trainer understood sometimes other pokémon were stronger. Maybe losing without putting them to sleep was unforgivable and he'd been abandoned even though he was proud of being called useful.

The thought made him cold (but a different sort of cold to the cold earlier, that was painful ice frozen cold and not nervous disappointment failure cold) but the human in front of him didn't seem so bad. Sort of dappled sun warm and that didn't make sense at all. Salt shuffled and wondered if he'd be punished for moving closer anyway.

“Hello,” the stranger says. The tone is something Salt has troubles placing - he's certainly not had much opportunity to be exposed to it, but if he thinks about a little, the human appears to be being… friendly? A delicate hand extends toward him, flat of the palm turned in his direction, attentive eyes fixed on him, hand intending to come to rest against the firm surface of the mushroom. The fingers wouldn't be very threatening even in a different context - they're frail and the arm they're attached to doesn't look like it could deliver much of a blow, and they're very clearly not wielding Dakarai's weapon, so it would be trivial to reach up and crush them should they try anything. “Pleased to meet you. I'm Jagdish,” the human is saying, as if it were mistaking Salt for an equal. What an odd notion that would be!

Both clawtips were delicately rested on the ground. He didn't want to seem threatening. He didn't feel the urge to either and that was a little strange, there was a stranger in front of him but the stranger seemed nice and had introduced himself so he wasn't really a stranger, was he?

This wasn't a battle so there was no harm edging slightly close to the not-stranger Jagdish, was there?

“Do you have a name?” Jagdish asks, curiously, shifting from his crouch into something of a side-on sit, clearly unafraid of Salt. It's like hanging out with an old friend one's just inconveniently forgotten most of anything about. The question is strange, of course - it's not like Salt can pronounce his own human name, and since when do humans ask about what pokémon might potentially call themselves? The human's other hand rests itself lightly on the top curve of Salt's right foreclaw, and the one against the mushroom's elephant-like skin rubs across it soothingly.

“<Salt, but not know how to tell you that,>” the Parasect responded. Humans had markings they could share and the pokémon wondered if he could scratch some of those into the ground but the floor wasn't sand or dirt and he didn't know which symbols to scratch anyway.

The petting was nice. Dakarai didn't give pettings, just punishment. Maybe getting traded to Jagdish wasn't so bad.

“Is the name your trainer gave you your only name?” Jagdish asks with curiosity, not incredulousness, his gaze having wandered to the texture of the mushroom as if concerned about causing any potential harm. The greatest surprise, of course, is that a statement as abstract as the one Salt's just shared with Jagdish would be understood. Or it's a freak coincidence - it could always be a coincidence, right?

Jagdish was acting like he understood but he was a human and couldn't understand so he had to be talking just to be soothing. Yes? Unless he was a human-shaped pokémon but then he wouldn't be speaking or wearing clothes so he couldn't have understood.

Salt shook his head no at the second question and tentatively nudged at Jagdish's knee. Definitely human. But nice human.

“But it's the one you identify with,” Jagdish observes, softly. “Salt it is, then,” he smiles. “What would you like me to do with your pokéball, Salt? You're not attached to it, are you?” That, of course, makes for an especially cryptic question. Why would his new trainer ask him about his opinion of his place of stasis? It was a useful device, objectively speaking - it meant pain stopped sooner rather than later, after all, but it also tended to mean that pain happened in the first place, and it wasn't something Salt had ever had much of a choice about.

He must have been traded, Dakarai had told his new master his name. Did that mean no more whip? That would be nice. Even if this new trainer was strange.

Jagdish asked confusing questions. Of course he was attached to his pokéball, if you pressed the button he vanished into it and it didn't matter what was happening at the time. Hanging onto something didn't work so it had to be attached to him more than he could attach to anything else.

“<Can't unattach, it too strong,>” Salt chittered at last. At least pokéballs didn't hurt. Sometimes they stopped hurt! But not every time, only when you were in them for long enough.

That seems to prompt a chuckle. “Well, you're not going back into it unless you want to,” Jagdish explains, posture sagging slightly into something more casual, gaze anchoring itself on the Parasect's face again. “So, I was meaning more emotional attachment,” he comments. “Is it a good or a bad thing for you? If it's a bad thing I'll put it away forever; but if you like the safety it can give you, we can figure something out.”

Salt reared back a little in surprise. That wasn't coincidence. Jagdish understood him! Jagdish was a pokémon? Could pokémon use pokéballs? But he spoke human and pokémon couldn't speak human and this was very confusing.

The words weren't much better. Did his new trainer walk to battles? Everyone could chose to walk with him then. But pokéballs could be nice when you were hurt so you didn't have to walk back while burned and every motion hurt.

Jagdish regarded the motion with a sliver of concern, briefly wondering if he'd done something to disturb or upset the pokémon. As nothing more comes of it, though, he pulls his hands back and lets them rest in his skew lap, looking at Salt with a borderline parental expression. “You're confused,” he observes the obvious. “What's on your mind? Where shall I start?”

“<You walk to battles?>” Salt asked tentatively. A human understanding him was more confusing but maybe Jagdish was a very good guesser so asking a question he couldn't guess would be proof. “<You don't use pokéball after battle, make walk hurt?>” Jagdish seemed nice, surely he wouldn't do that. Then why did he seem to not like them?

Jagdish shakes his head, though a tinge of enlightenment enters his air, as if something fundamental had just dawned to him. “I don't own you. There will be no battles just for the prestige of your so-called 'owner' any more. No one will hurt you, be that pokémon or human - at least not if I can help it.” He tilts his head lightly. “Fair?”

“<…no battles?>” the Parasect repeated, bewildered. But wasn't the point of pokéballs to be tools to make pokémon fight for you? That could be why Jagdish didn't like them. But Jagdish battled Dakarai. “<Then why have pokémon?>” Was his new trainer going to let him go back to the wild? Salt wasn't sure how he felt about that. A little scared. This place felt nothing like where had been home.

“Well, about that… I don't,” Jagdish says across a light exhale. “But I have pokémon friends that let me keep my position up here without causing too much suspicion at first glance.” In a cautious motion, the fingers of his hands spread outward again as he leant himself forward and brought them up to Salt, running them across the carapace ina brief, firm but soothing gesture, then dropping them back into his lap. “And to protect me and each other,” he adds. “You can stay with us if you like, or go back to where you were caught, or we can get you a friendly human companion. It's up to you.”

The bug pokémon made an appreciative sound at the stroking and leaned a little against the gym leader's leg. He'd never thought about what he wanted. It just seemed obvious that he'd keep battling until another pokémon killed him or someone managed to kill his trainer. [ Former trainer. Salt thought he'd prefer to keep it that way. “<Can't go back, Dakarai will catch again. Has weapon that burns.>” The Parasect shuddered in memory.

“Oh no, he won't,” Jagdish assures, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone as he shifts his weight into a slightly less lopsided sit, shoulders rolling a little, an expectant sort of smile creasing the corners of his lips as if he had something to look forward to. “You see… it's very unlikely he'll leave this place alive. He's been very cruel to you and the others of 'his' team - and we really can't let him get away with that.”

How could Jagdish be sure Dakarai wouldn't wriggle loose and then come back and hurt everyone badly? He could build an even worse weapon and use it on Jagdish as well as all his pokémon. The Parasect clicked his mandibles nervously, not doubting Jagdish believed what he'd said but clearly uncertain he could do so. Salt wondered if he should stay here and find a dark corner to hide in near the door so he could try and Spore Dakarai before anybody got hurt.

“You don't believe me?” Jagdish asks, a fond amusement in his voice, trying to judge the Parasect's nervous body language correctly. “Do you want to see where he is now?”

Salt swayed back and forth. He didn't mean to imply Jagdish was wrong, but Dakarai was frightening and didn't stop and Jagdish could be getting tricked. “<Won't hurt us?>”

“No,” Jagdish smiles. “You'll understand when you see it, I promise.”

Jagdish was a strange human. Or probably-human. The grin reminded him of other trainers he'd seen and Salt wondered if Jagdish had a humanball because that would be a good way of stopping Dakarai as long as he was careful to keep a distance. Dakarai didn't have any ranged attacks.

Salt nodded. He'd go look at his former trainer and protect Jagdish from him just in case.

“Splendid,” Jagdish comments, glancing up at the room briefly as if either looking for something or simply casting his gaze out during a moment's thought. Then he's pushing to his feet, the motion slow, as if he were perhaps still reluctant to make any sudden motions around Salt, given how new everything was for the Parasect. His right hand's palm sets down on the top of the creature's exaggerated mushroom hat, and he begins to lead the way.

When the caravan of two with its casual, Parasect-geared walking pace reaches the cell, Salt feels much more secure in his assessment of Jagdish as a friendly human. It's a bit at odds with the notion of being made to see Dakarai again, but then… at the same time, it's Dakarai. For all the pain and fear, it's still his former trainer. At the very least, it's understandable that Jagdish might want to give him closure.

“Don't let him spook you,” Jagdish advises. “He has no power any more. Never forget that.” With that said, he gives a sharp whistle, casting his attention upwards and along the corridor. A pink light appears with only minimal delay, coalescing into the shape of a strange pokémon that Salt has never seen - a slender, rosy little bundle of fur with the brightest expression. “Mew-mew-mew,” she declares, pawing at Jagdish's face with its forepaws for a moment of expressed affection. He squeezes his eyes shut in instinct, some less meticulously controlled part of him certain the assault on his face might poke out an eye. “Keys please,” he says, bringing his free hand up to push two fingers in between his nose and the creature's chest.

“…Mew?” she hovers infront of him, tone a tinge stern, but still recognisably playful.

“…it's for our guest,” Jagdish comments exasperatedly, gesturing down at Salt. “Can we argue compensation later?”

She seems to consider that for a moment, her tail coiling and flicking about restlessly, indecisively. Then, just as Jagdish stirs as if to scold her, she nods contently and confirms: “Meeew. Mew-mew.” This pokémon has the strangest speech pattern. Salt can't understand a word of what she's saying, but Jagdish seems to have no problem deciphering it.

Either way, she's attached herself to the door and is staring at the lock with some concentration. A moment later, the mechanics within it clack and grind recognisably - and the door pops open as if unlocked.

“Thank you,” Jagdish says, earnestly… and reconsiders whether his decision to keep 'keys' solely in the form of psychic pokémon was still quite so clever a move as when he'd cooked up the scheme. The little extortionist. To be fair, she was probably just unbelievably impatient at this point - some snotty behaviour was to be expected.

His free hand grasps at the edge of the door and tugs it open.

Within is, recognisably, Dakarai. His legs are free, but his wrists are bound, wrapped by bands of metal, attached to the wall by linked chains. He can't chew through that. No doubt the situation was different not too long ago and he tried just that. The deathglare that's on his face certainly suits that much. He looks deeplly, venomously annoyed - not afraid.

Jagdish was probably-human but understood pokémon, and now there was an almost-certainly-pokémon that couldn't speak at all. This place was very strange. And it had doors only the mute pokémon could open? Except she wasn't mute and psychics tended to talk a lot so maybe this 'Mew' was only a newly hatched baby pokémon and hadn't learned how yet. That was why she was so openly affectionate in odd ways.

The Parasect didn't have much time to be satisfied with his logic before the door opened and suddenly there was an angry looking Dakarai and he was cringing behind Jagdish's legs. It took a few moments to penetrate that his ex-trainer was restrained. That was… good? Salt wasn't sure how to feel as he peered around his barrier. Dakarai couldn't do anything bad while chained up, could he?

“It's okay,” Jagdish assures, soft-toned, glancing down at the Parasect ineffectively trying to crowd itself into invisibility behind him. “He can't hurt you,” he assures, hoping to encourage the pokémon to approach its former master and convince himself of this. With his legs free, Dakarai could conceivably kick at Salt, but he had no cause to - and if he did, Jagdish would make sure he regretted it, here and now; screw waiting for the Council. That being said, if he did try, Mew was likely to stop him - assuming she wasn't too petulant. Those were the house rules, after all.

Salt wasn't so sure about that. Dakarai was tricky. He was also unarmed and didn't have any pokéballs and his hands were empty and restrained so unless he had another pokémon clinging to the ceiling surely there wasn't much he could do.

Cautiously the Parasect shuffled around Jagdish's legs and into the doorway before awkwardly peering up at the top of the cell. No sign of Dawn hovering out of sight and a quick look back at the bound trainer showed no characteristic glow of a Coronav stuffed down his shirt or pants legs. He looked alone. That should be comforting but it wasn't. Salt swayed uncertainly and glanced back at Jagdish.

“Go on,” Jagdish encourages, smiling down at the Parasect as if Dakarai's cold, sceptical, borderline derisive glare didn't even exist. He might as well be asking Salt to inspect a particularly interesting inanimate object. As if to dispel that notion, Dakarai shifts, angling his right leg, mustering Salt and Jagdish sceptically, as if not altogether sure what to make of either, or the pair of them together.

What was he supposed to do? Even if Dakarai couldn't hurt him right now he looked like he wanted to hurt somebody and they had to let him out eventually. Or kill him. Maybe they were going to attack him without letting him go. Just as long as they weren't going to abandon him without stasis, the thought of that made his mushroom shake as being just as cruel as the whip was.

Tentatively Salt edged close enough to reach out and touch Dakarai's foot but hesitated in the action and only raised one claw in a tiny wave instead before looking back and forth between the two humans.

Within Dakarai, emotions wrestled for dominance. Salt was his best pokémon, a sturdy fighter, loyal, efficient, and a brilliant tactician even without his guidance - but he couldn't read the pokémon. He wasn't sure what this hesitance meant. Was Salt being pressured into something? The notion seemed absurd - Salt was a precision tool that could hardly be forced into doing anything that he wasn't designed to do, and these cautious, skittish motions seemed wholly out of character for a sturdy fighter. Insomuch as his psyche was able to grasp the abstraction, Salt also felt like a friend to him - and this visit all the more surreal for it, like a deathbed visit, which struck him with a deep unease. There was an urge to ask, but he felt underinformed to even utter a coherent question - and he wasn't altogether sure he could trust any answer the gym leader would give him, given that he'd already violated his word. Dakarai's sceptical glare softens a little, adopting a tinge of confusion and a hint of misplaced concern, regarding Salt much like one might a device one had grown to love that had fallen down and one had to take care ensuring it still functioned. The idea that the gym leader might have done anything to Salt deeply unnerved him - even were it to be something as benign as teaching him a new move, though he's certainly infinitely more worried about damage.

And now Dakarai wasn't looking at him as scarily. It was Jagdish that he hated then and he didn't look like he'd traded Salt away. Did he expect Salt to rescue him? The Parasect supposed he could Spore Jagdish and Mew but even his strongest Slash probably wouldn't break the chains and his ex-trainer had to know that. It would take some of his other pokémon to make an escape and some of those would see him bound without a weapon and take the chance to attack.

Not that he would free Dakarai even if he could, Salt thought as he straightened up. He didn't want to go back to being the other's pokémon, he wanted the human dumped on a desert island a long way away with no pokémon there that could be hurt. Jagdish had been nice to him. He was going to protect Jagdish until Dakarai went away.

Deciding that Salt at least didn't look like he was being damaged, Dakarai's expression chills a little again as he glances across at the gym leader. “What's the meaning of this?” he asks, softly but with a dangerous undercurrent quite unfitting for his state of capture.

A derisive little smile creases Jagdish's lips. For a moment, it looks like that might be the only answer, his fingers idly and slowly kneading against each other, motions soft and delicate, shoulders in subtle motion, even as the pokémon with the soft pink light sets down on his shoulder, its stare fixed on Dakarai with a bubbly but valiantly contained curiosity - then he tilts his head slightly and says: “Patience.”

“I don't know what you intend to achieve, but if you're hoping I'll tell you something if you starve me enough, then it would help if you actually made a query,” Dakarai narrows his eyes.

“Oh no, no starving,” Jagdish assures, smiling lightly, his mind reaching tendrils longingly into the future, taking the edge of anything in the present without fail.

“You still owe me a badge,” Dakarai comments, bitterly, displeased that he'd be made to repeat himself, but used to people of selective hearing, and not yet convinced this gym leader was necessarily of a different kin. “Do you treat everyone that comes up here like this? Do the other gym leaders know what you're doing? Because if you think you can get away with this, you're pitifully mistaken.”

The steadily spoken rant infuses Jagdish with a genuine amusement, his free shoulder shrugging lightly. “We'll see,” he comments, tone friendly.

“You've violated the contract you set down,” Dakarai sneers. “It's not a question, it's an observation.”

A twitch travels along Jagdish's right arm, slowing to roll across his hand as a gradual rolling motion, fingers flexing smoothly. Demonstrations of what Dakarai was dealing with could wait. If it's one thing Jagdish had a bottomless reservoir of life experience with… it was waiting. Instead of lashing out, another shrug touches his shoulder, and he directs his smile at Salt. “See what I mean, Salt? A lot of hot air,” he addresses the Parasect, tone borderline apologetic, as if he were personally responsible for Dakarai's reckless tone.

Badges. That meant Dakarai had won the battle. But if he'd won how did he end up here? He wasn't being nice to Jagdish. Maybe he'd been mean and attacked the gym leader and every pokémon in the building had dogpiled him and locked him up. Too many types attacking at once and even a clever weapon wouldn't help. It served him right for being a bully.

That didn't explain how Salt was free though. Unless Jagdish just didn't care and had stolen him. Salt decided he was okay with being stolen.

“Stop,” Dakarai glares at the gym leader as if he had authority to instruct anything. “Trying to rope my pokémon into this.” A hiss winds through the syllables.

That finally cracks Jagdish's composure, jaw setting for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. For a moment, his face seems chiefly undecided what to express, lips adopting no shape in particular for longer than an instant, brows subtly moving in a turmoil of their own. Then he settles on a tense, restrained venom. Softly: “You don't own him and you never have.”

That prompts a brief, incredulous, hateful chuckle from Dakarai. “So you're a thief as well, then?” he asks, though uncertainty touches his tone. 'You never have' certainly doesn't quite make any sense to him. It feels almost like a non-sequitur. Salt has nothing to do with this, after all.

“Something like that,” Jagdish comments, chiefly to have said anything at all, gaze anchoring itself on Salt, smile returning, albeit in a slightly more forced manner, deciding he's through with dealing with this ethical abomination of a human being for the time being. “Seen enough?” he asks Salt, tone encouraging, not impatient. He wants Salt to be convinced Dakarai is no longer a threat, and he can stay here for hours more if the Parasect wants, but he also doesn't want to stress the creature out by making it endure the company of its ex-trainer more than necessary.

Definitely stolen and Dakarai wanted him back. Or didn't want to acknowledge not having his pokéball in the first place. Maybe? He felt they were discussing something else that only tangentially related to him. “<But he owned pokéball and that was home?>” Salt asked doubtfully as he continued looking between the humans.

A closed claw lightly tapped against Dakarai's foot. It's not a threatening gesture, merely one of the only forms of contact the Parasect can actively initiate. The foot is solid and not illusionary and they were both definitely here and he still wasn't sure if he should be scared or pleased or both.

“It doesn't work that way,” Jagdish assures. Instinct is to explain himself better, of course, but at the moment he doesn't want to give Dakarai the benefit of hearing the philosophical explanation just yet - not to mention he'd feel quite uncomfortable biasing the Council session in such a way. He's already implying more than he'd like to with Salt's very presence; if the pokémon's peace of mind weren't infinitely more important than some criminal's fate, practically guaranteed to end in a premature death as it was, he might not be here at all right now.

Dakarai, meanwhile, despite a clear attempt not to, exudes the barest tinge of pleading desperation, as if a prominent part of him sought to reach out to Salt and see to it that he could protect himself from this dangerous stranger, but held back given the strange behaviour, the mysterious context, the details that made no sense. 'Come back to me, please,' wrestled for dominance with 'be careful, Salt, you can't trust him.' It's not a notion born of a parental flavour of emotional connection, though, but to large part out of the remnants of stategic thinking, like a final trick to teach the Parasect. 'How to escape the clutches of a sociopathic gym leader unscathed.' Such education would work better if he could free himself for a start, of course.

If his pokéball wasn't home, what was? Dakarai didn't have one, so it wasn't his. Some other pokémon said it was with their trainer, but their trainers liked them. Maybe one of his teammates knew. Salt tapped Dakarai's foot again. It felt wrong to leave without saying anything. “<Goodbye.>” The human wouldn't understand him but he'd said it and that was the important part. The Parasect turned and edged back out the door past the gym leader. He didn't want to stay there being afraid any longer.

The gesture, repeated as it was, seemed friendly and soothing to Dakarai, but no less awkwardly out of place for it. If Salt were the gym leader's pokémon now, surely he'd be more inclined to be violent in some way? And if he was not, surely he would attempt to break Dakarai free, or at least rise up against his new unbidden master?

He's unnerved - he's missing something important and it's clear no one wants to tell him what it is. That leaves him distinctly frustrated - is he supposed to read minds? The more this scene drags on, the more he's wondering if this is just some setup to taunt him; a prank of completely borderline legality for someone's entertainment. He's running out of other reasonable options - for a hypothetical cruel sadist, the gym leader isn't mistreating him enough, merely depriving him of freedom and sneering aloofly. For a kidnapper, parading Salt at him made no sense and seemed like it would be dangerous for a criminal of that calibre - not to mention that kidnapping Dakarai would be a waste of time, with no one willing to pay any ransom money.

Or was there? The notion he might have overlooked someone caring for him is almost the most disturbing aspect of that concept, but it's so unlikely that it's quickly dismissed.

'What's the meaning of this?' was still the most accurate question he could muster, and he'd never been a fan of repeating himself.

Jagdish saunters to follow the Parasect, not bothering to glance back at his unfortunate, eternally confused captive, Mew's tail curling and twitching behind him like an unusual, lively and slightly misplaced ponytail. Her head has twisted around, of course, and morbid attention anchors on Dakarai for the moment, until the brush of the gym leader's fingers prompts her to alight and drift to handle the door.

A moment later, it's closed and locked anew, leaving Dakarai to mull over the scarce implications on his own.

“Just because someone owns a place you would consider home does not mean that they own you,” Jagdish explains, voice soft as he addresses Salt once more, finally giving into the urge to explain his philosophic objection. “Human beings often live in places that they don't own - they pay a bit of money so they can stay there, but they are not and never owned by the person who owns the place.”

Salt considered that for a bit. Did that mean he paid with battles instead of money? He didn't have any money. Maybe there were other ways. “<Would other pokémon know place to live without human owning?>” he asked doubtfully. Not being hurt was good but the world was big and scary and he didn't know what his new place in it was.

“There are communities of previously owned pokémon out in the wild that might be able to 'give you a home', so to speak - but if it's just the illicit notion of anyone owning you that you want to avoid, not the notion of the place you live being owned, there are plenty of humans that understand the distinction.” A pause. “Most, really,” he adds, in afterthought, light smile on his lips. Mew settles back down on his shoulder, prompting no particular reaction from him beyond an absentminded raising of one hand to pet her with the tips of two fingers, all without looking at her. “You'd be welcome to stay here for a while if you like, for example.”