Njoty. It's always bizarre coming here from someplace as small as Togi, where everyone knows each other and where you can get anywhere with just a few ladders or bridges. Not so here. Here everything's huge and sprawling and confusing and there are so many people. That bit is really the most mind-boggling to Batsen. How can there be so many people in a place like this? How can a place like this even function, when everyone's doing their own thing? At some level, he's vaguely aware that people here tend to be less opinionated and hard-headed than back home, that Togi's culture is the exception to the rest of Sehto and not the rule, and presumably that has something to do with it, but it's still a little surreal seeing just how many people live here.

Batsen and Dejan aren't here for fun - the woods surrounding Togi are perfectly good for that. Nor are they here for commerce, the most common reason for taking a trip to the big city. They're here… for science! Or, at least, to visit the Science Center. Hopefully Dr. Kelebek will be around, and able to answer a question that's been nagging at Batsen for the past few days - what exactly is the strange birdlike pokémon he found, and why doesn't the pokédex seem to have any data on it?

After what feels like hours of wandering, the two finally manage to find their way to the Pterygotamorphic Pokémon Science Center by late afternoon. “Well, this is it,” Batsen announces, staring up at the glass front of the building, equal parts awed and nervous. It's huge, and thankfully actually manages to look quite different from most of the other buildings in the city.

Dejan cranes his neck back to look up at the building, impressive by Togi standards in just how much vertical space it seems to be occupying. For a moment, he stays like that, squinting up at the effectively uniform glass pane, trying to see more than the reflected sky from this angle. No such luck. He shakes his head in silence, then grins, bringing his attention back down. A moment later, he's walking forward, driven by his curiosity. “No time like the present,” he urges, eagerly.

Batsen takes a deep breath, staring up at the massive structure, before nodding slightly. Right. He wanted to find out what exactly his new pokémon is, and Dr. Kelebek is probably the best pokémon researcher on the island - or at least the best-known around here. No pressure at all. He quickly walks up to Dejan's side, and through the sliding glass doors into the Science Center. “…right, time to find Dr. Kelebek's office.”

“Find?” Dejan comments, even as he pauses in the lobby to look around. “I thought you've been here before,” he adds, letting his gaze linger on a set of doors in the area to the right from the reception desk, looking fractionally as if he were trying to size up the place to find out where he could best get away with a robbery. Just normal Dejan curiosity, in other words.

Batsen snorts. “Yeah, once, when I was a kid and my parents took me to get my pokédex,” he replies, shooting a light glare at Dejan before looking around, trying to see if he can line his sense of direction up with what vague memories he has. “…I think maybe this way?” he guesses, before heading down a corridor almost directly ahead of them.

Between an enthusiastic Dejan and an attentive Batsen, it doesn't take long for them to find the office. Somewhat mercifully, the door is open, inviting stray folk like them to poke their noses in.

Dr. Kelebek himself doesn't look like anything that might be deserving of a doctorate pidgeonhole, other than the vague hint his spectacles provide. He's clad in very casual attire, an orange shirt vanishing beneath a dark red jacket, neither of which looks like a perfect fit, and once-anthracite jeans that've either been worn for years or designed with the effect in mind. By the looks of things, he's currently entering some data into his laptop, peering to and fro between the lean device and paper notes, occasionally pausing to contemplate whatever it is they say.

The office itself doesn't provide much information about his profession. Aside from his desk and a sturdy aluminium table currently cluttered with stray books, a straw bowl of pokéballs and assorted pokémon related items, the furniture is entirely generic for an office, offering a view of two file cabinets, a shelf and a cupboard. The most notable thing in the room that feels a little out of place is a mirror and a lone tap, albeit with no sink, instead with a pragmatic but unflattering bucket stood immediately beneath it.

As the motion registers to his peripheral vision, the man looks up from his work, peering at the two through his spectacles, not hiding his emotion of curiosity and mild disorientation. “Hello,” he greets. “Are you looking for something?” Apparently he doesn't get many visitors.

Batsen tenses subtly at the man's question. He can't quite shake the feeling that he's imposing himself on someone whose time is far more valuable than his own. “Um, Dr. Kelebek?” he greets, just to make sure he's actually talking to the right person. “Hi, my name's Batsen. I… was wondering if you could help me with something. If you're not too busy, of course.” Calm down, Batsen. It's fine. He probably gets requests like this all the time. Or at least sometimes, maybe? How many people walk into his office and say 'Hi, I think there's data missing from my pokédex'?

The man's face crinkles in amusement at 'if you're not busy' - he evidently is, after all, but he knows better than to advertise as much to someone who's already clearly nervous. He glances to Dejan in curiosity for a moment, before shaking his head, turning in his swivel chair to face Batsen properly for a moment, saying: “By all means, come in.” A moment later, he's rising, only the slightest awkward pause to the motion, before he extends his right hand for the shaking. “We'll have to see if I can help you, won't we? What's the trouble?”

Batsen steps fully into the office, accepting the proffered handshake. “…to be honest, I'm not a hundred percent sure. I suspect it's just that my pokédex might be buggy or out of date or something, but…” He takes a deep breath. Start at the beginning. “A couple days ago, my friend and I found an injured pokémon, and I'd never seen anything like it… so I tried checking the pokédex, but it kept saying 'NO DATA FOUND', so…” There's a pause, and he bites at his lower lip briefly, then starts fishing around in his pockets before producing a pokéball. “I was wondering if you could tell me what it is?” And maybe help update his pokédex while he's at it.

The silence from Dr. Kelebek is, unfortunately, ambiguous. What's that gaze trying to say? Quietly, he nudges his spectacles into subjective place with his free hand, touching his lips with his tongue. “I doubt I'll be able to fill you in if your portable encyclopaedia can't,” he comments, hesitantly, perhaps trying to gauge if his visitor is trying to pull his leg. “Especially if you have a synchronised edition.” A pause, his left hand rising as if to gesture, before it falls limply by his side again. “…I suppose we can discuss the device later. Let's take a look at the pokémon?” he prompts, before grasping the fingers of his left hand with his right and holding the resulting knot of flesh against his chest in almost shy curiosity.

A light cringe touches Batsen's shoulders. If this turns out to be some kind of bug or synchronization issue or something like that, he's going to feel so embarrassed. “…sure,” he replies, and with just a moment's hesitation, he presses the button on the metal sphere, a red glow emanating from it and coalescing on the ground into a small avian form.

Ho-lee…! This isn't the forest. This isn't outside at all, this is inside, a notion that means the amount of humans might quite possible exceed the amount of other macroscopic creatures currently in accessible range. The pokémon peers at the room with the closest thing to an aghast expression that an avian form can possible display, beak tensely shut, head pivoted forward, eyes wide, gaze swerving cautiously but attentively around.

There are legs infront of her and they don't belong to Batsen or Dejan, not that Batsen or Dejan are necessarily soothing sights, but they're tolerable and they've yet to do something like expect her to actually listen to them by shouting or hitting her or threatening her with some other pokémon until she 'learns to defend herself' or something along those lines. She knows these things happen. For one, she's heard the two talk about that sort of thing in others. For two, she's witnessed it. Not often, just enough to be wary. She's not stupid, they'll probably get tired of her uselessness at some point and then what? Yep, yep.

Either way this is someone else. Rather than focus on him like she should a potential enemy, her gaze whips around and… ah yes, there is Batsen. And Dejan, for that matter. She's not been traded away to some collector. Fantastic. Still in business.

Dr. Kelebek, meanwhile, is slowly shifting from his stand to a crouch, brows having knitted together. The colouration is the first thing that stands out, of course - he doesn't know of a white, iridescent bird. The first explanation that comes to mind is, of course, that it might be a shiny variant of some species, but on closer inspection, the species doesn't look like anything he's seen, either, not soft enough at the edges for a Pidgey and not spiked enough for a Spearow, without a distinctive and odd plume like a Murkrow, and too small for a Farfetch'd, for starters.

A moment later has him awkwardly twist himself to glance toward his desk, not bothering to get up from his crouch, and he reaches for the top-most drawer in the file cabinet just under it. Then a pokédex of his own surfaces, taking in the creature's features… and turns up a blank. He shakes his head, leaning back and to the side to put it back with a slight grumble, then glances back at the small creature, which by now is staring back at him fearlessly. “Where did you find it?”

Batsen lowers into a crouch shortly after the small pokémon starts casting its gaze around nervously, resting a hand by its side. “It's okay, you're safe here,” he says softly, tone as soothing as possible. It's still a nearly-wild pokémon, it's still distrustful of him, but that's something that only time can change. In the meantime, he'll just have to be as patient and friendly towards it as he can, until he can earn its trust.

It takes a few moments of thought before he answers Dr. Kelebek's question. “In the forest, a few kilometers southwest of Togi,” he replies. “The poor thing was lying on a branch in really bad shape, I imagine it must've gotten attacked in midair and fallen, or something like that.”

Listening to Batsen's answer, Dr. Kelebek realises how pointless his question was - he can't really rule out anything. It's a bird, after all - it could even have flown over from elsewhere, though the fact it's encased in a pokéball at least makes it apparent that it's a pokémon and not a stray migratory bird from other parts of the globe. He stares at it for a moment, hoping it might reveal something about itself suddenly - but of course it doesn't.

The avian, meanwhile, is quite happy to partake in this staring contest. She likes staring contests - largely because it's so easy to win them, seeing as she doesn't need to blink nearly as often as the squishy mammalian bipeds. Her right leg lifts, scratching idly at the scaled skin of her left leg, and she tilts her head. The human blinks. A light twitch like the vaguest acknowledging bob of her head results - oh yeah, another one won! She's pleased.

Maybe if these humans are so keen on special moves, she should try one on one of them sometime. Maybe a bit of powder snow. Or even just a tackle. Or a peck. A peck would leave them guessing, wouldn't it? That was barely a special move at all, more like a regular move. It's weird, how humans have names for some of the things pokémon do and not for others. Why is Belch not a move? Why is Bristle Feathers not a move? She'd like Bristle Feathers to be a move. That'd be a thing she'd be quite happy to do for Batsen or Dejan. All. Day. Long.

Dr. Kelebek finally pushes himself to a rise, glancing back up at Batsen as he does so. He shakes his head. “Well, you have me stumped. I might be able to tell you more if I poked at her innards-”

Innards? Those are inside her. As if following her prior thought, her feathers bristle, her beak opening, and she caws in warning protest, head tucked in between her shoulders.

“-but obviously that's not exactly an option.” The human hasn't changed his tone or paused in his speech, and he glances down at her only after he's done, curious about her reaction and a bit unable to place what might have prompted it. “You could try seeing if she'll take any other pokémon as a mate,” he muses, idly, watching her with some curiosity. “With an egg group we might be able to find out more.”

A mate? What an obscene suggestion. All right, she doesn't like this one. Batsen's better. Well. Batsen's better as long as he doesn't think this nutjob's advice is worth taking, at least, and Batsen's all human, and he's talking to another human, and he might be biased in that regard. On the flipside, she's confident she can peck out an eye or two if they try putting her in a pen with a Spearow in heat or something like that. Of her trainer, then of the pokémon, roughly in that order.

The trainer's eyes widen at Dr. Kelebek's response. He doesn't know. And moreover, his pokédex doesn't seem to know either. It must be something extremely rare, or possibly even an undiscovered species. Now there's an exciting thought - two kids from Togi discovering a new species of pokémon. What would people say?

His momentary daydream is cut short by the avian's cawing, prompting a soft hushing noise from him, the back of his fingers moving to gently stroke against her feathers. There's a light shrug in response to Dr. Kelebek's musings. “Maybe eventually, should she decide she wants one,” he replies. “If she does, though, I'll definitely let you know.” Eyes find themselves drawn down to the creature. An unknown pokémon. Who would have thought.

She eyes the legs infront of her sceptically. She could probably do plenty damage to this obscene human's shins if she set out to do it, but Batsen's words have a soothing effect - he's not falling into the trappings of Listening To Another Of His Species By Default. He instantly gains several cool points. He's allowed to pet her today. And he does! How pleasant. A content sound rolls from the depths of her, gaze twisting back up to glare triumphantly at Dr. Kelebek. Not today, you pervert - not today, not ever. She coos, nudging the back of her head against the soothing fingers to denote her approval, her attention still on the Enemy, blinking lazily.

“If you want, I could keep her for a few days and see what I can find out?” Dr. Kelebek offers. There were plenty non-biopsy, non-mating options he could think of to determine at least some traits of this mysterious creature - he could certainly determine her type without a doubt, for one, without harming her or putting himself in danger. And despite her preconceptions, he certainly had no intention of harming her - and that much should be apparent to Batsen.

But it doesn't matter. The avian tucks her head in between her shoulders, beak ajar. No, never. Not staying here. Her attention whips around to Batsen rather suddenly, gaze finding him, and a keen escapes her. It's time to go, go, go. Maybe she should try to sound less pleading and more demanding, but she has a bit of a soft spot for this human, she has to admit. She's willing to consider him as something of a… part-time protector. Sometimes, she can huddle behind him as her body guard and meat shield, and she has to butter him up somehow so he'll take that role. Obviously.

Batsen ponders Dr. Kelebek's offer for a few moments. It's probably worthwhile taking it - he'd probably be able to discover more in that time than he himself could. Not to mention it would certainly help him in training her. “Yeah, that sounds good, actually. Maybe you could find out what kinds of food she likes - I imagine berries are always a good bet, but if there's other things I could feed her, that'd be good to know. Or if there're things I shouldn't feed her, for that matter.”

What. The statement comes as such a surprise for the avian that her reaction is simply stunned silence for a moment of outraged contemplation. Why her human would do that after all his sensible, free-thinking, respectful behaviour from before, she couldn't fathom - it felt like such a deliberate stab in the back she couldn't even find an abstraction to slot it into. And then the paralysis that held her still dissipates, resulting in a rather violent shiver and the bristle of feathers, and a memory of what it's like to breathe. The breath gained, in turn, fed into a sound that was half keen, half the avian equivalent of a snarl, though she didn't think to tear herself away from Batsen - she didn't ascribe malevolence to him, far more likely to simply consider him too stupid to understand the ramifications of what he was saying. Leaving her alone with this clumsy psychopath? In a pokéball, no doubt, robbing her of any ability to do anything against it? It's so ludicrously evil that she doesn't even manage to feel fear about it.

“How does a week sound?” Dr. Kelebek asks, nodding in almost idle acknowledgement, his glance lingering with a benign curiosity on the tiny ball of iridescent feathers. “I imagine that's about as long as I'll need to hash out all fundamentals - and, honestly, I doubt keeping her any longer would yield many more insights.”

Batsen turns his attention to the small pokémon once more, a mild grimace of empathy for her discomfort evident. She's probably still freaked out about her surroundings, the poor thing - it's not exactly like the forest around Togi, or wherever her native habitat is. There's a bit more comforting stroking, followed by a light nod in response to Dr. Kelebek's question. “A week's fine,” he replies, somewhat automatically. “Shhh, it's okay, he won't hurt you,” he whispers soothingly to her.

…she's being passed into grotesque slavery leading up to debased experiments with her helpless self for a week. A week. Her current owner is disregarding her safety callously for… what? A few scraps of information? Rage boils up inside her, for the moment staving off the inevitable fear that would follow, and in a rapid motion, she's twisted her head around to bite at one of Batsen's fingers punishingly, wings lifting off of her body lightly, feathers bristled and fanned out, giving her the appearance of a ball of spikes first and foremost, even if none of the feathers jutting from her body were hard enough to qualify.

Batsen lets out a yelp of pain as he instinctively fumbles for the small creature's pokéball. A moment later, it's held out, and his thumb depresses the small circular button; a beam of crimson light swallows her form, and then she's vanished into the confines of the metal sphere. Batsen shakes his hand back and forth, trying to dispel the pain, and then takes a look at the injured finger. There's clear impressions where the pokémon's beak was, but it doesn't look like it drew blood, thankfully. “Yeah,” he says with a hiss. “Like I said, she's still not tame by any stretch, so be careful with her, okay?” he says, holding out the pokéball for Dr. Kelebek to take.

A wince distorts Dr. Kelebek's expression at the bite of Batsen's finger, but the situation quickly resolves - the pokémon vanishes back into its pokéball, morphing from a minor threat to none at all in record time. “No worries,” Dr. Kelebek assures, though a he steals a glance at Batsen's finger again in worry, displeased by the notion of anyone or anything being physically injured. “I've dealt with my fair share of wild pokémon,” he assures Batsen. “I'll be fine - I'm sure she'll come to understand that no harm will come to her; and if all else fails, I can take some precautions,” he promises, even as he takes the pokéball with a respectful gentleness to the motion. “Nothing to worry about.”

Batsen nods, pushing himself up into a stand once Dr. Kelebek has the pokéball, right hand holding the bitten finger gingerly. “All right. Well, I guess this means my pokédex is probably fine,” he says, his gaze swiveling over to Dejan. “So… I guess I'll be back in a week, and you can tell me what you've found out?”