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A selection of pokéballs rested atop the dining room table, each waiting to have its contents uncovered. He could ask, of course. He could hurry, too, but it hardly made a difference. Much as he preferred the creatures outside of such shells, once they were in one, a second or an eternity was all the same to them. He poked listlessly at his half of his meal, having rescinded the other half of it to a curious Eryzard. It had emerged from the right-most of the coloured orbs - and, after initial disorientation, had promptly clambered up from the tiled floor to his face to lick at one cheek, until he had gently prised it off to set it down. As a consolation prize, slivers of salmon were offered for inspection and potential consumption, but they were untouched so far, if certainly not unoggled. Maybe the peas on the side were confusing it. Maybe Jagdish's presence was demanding too much attention. Who knew? He's used to strange behaviours.
The knife in his right hand pivoted around its blade lazily, reflecting the ambient lights from the ceiling's edge into his eyes at rhythmic but arbitrary intervals. 'If salmon doesn't please you, my dear, perhaps a strategic incision would?' he thinks, imagining himself intoning the words quite casually. It's a doubly cynical observation, of course - not only would the cut heal obscenely rapidly, reminding him, again, just how alien he is, but it was less 'food' and more 'drug', even if it could certainly double as former. And the last thing he needed was a pokémon that was even more delighted of him.
A soft 'pop' above him is all the warning Jagdish gets before a gleeful pink fuzzball belly-flops onto his head, long tail swerving in front of his face. “Meeewwwwwww,” she offers in greeting, tone more a contented sigh than anything else. The Eryzard's gaze shoots up to the newcomer, blinking, uncertain whether to consider this newcomer a threat. It takes a couple steps back, just to be safe.
The morbid thoughts leave the building in a hurry. 'Hello there, little bundle of pink fluff and sadism.' He dons a practised smile, only the mildest tinge of annoyance in it - she's sitting on his hair, he prefers looking creatures in the face - setting down his cutlery and gesturing with index and middle finger of his right hand to the Eryzard, the motion slow and steady, denoting that nothing is wrong and there's no cause for alarm. “Hello, Mew,” he greets. “Where have you been?” he asks, with a subtle hint of a stern scepticism sneaking into his tone, for now still chiefly fond of the little rascal, however unsettling her personality may be, and thus willing to indulge her at least a little.
The Legendary slips forward, sliding off the back of Jagdish's head to set her forepaws on his shoulders, the rest of her body following shortly thereafter. “Mew,” she answers non-committally, tail flicking across Jagdish's neck as she turns to face forward. Her eyes focus on the pokéballs for a moment of curiosity, and then she turns her gaze to Jagdish, expression impossibly bright. “Mew?” she asks eagerly.
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