Water dripped down to the collar of Quinn’s shirt after he had finally given up on trying to get the Pidove’s present out of his hair with the help of Phanpy. They got a lot of it out, but there was no getting clean without soap. Quinn had a lot of stuff in his purse, but he was not that prepared.
Sofia and Jenny tried as best they could to help direct Quinn and Phanpy in getting the most visible pieces, but they weren’t willing to get their hands dirty themselves. After checking her phone, Sofia quickly turned to Jenny. “Jenny! It’s already 4:40, we have to hustle if we’re not going to be late.”
“Shoot, you’re right,” Jenny looked at Phanpy with confliction. It was evident that she wanted to spend more time with her new idol. Jenny turned to Quinn and asked, “When can we see Phanpy again?”
Quinn, wanting no part in coordinating a meet-up with two underage girls, dodged the question, “We walk this path all the time. I’m sure you’ll get to see Phanpy sooner rather than later.”
“That would be great! Sometimes my dad lets me take Slowpoke with me when he isn’t fishing. Hopefully, I’ll have her with me the next time we see Phanpy. But we really do have to run. Bye, Phanpy!” Sofia waved.
Jenny also said goodbye as they took off, running down the path where Quinn had come from. Quinn and Phanpy both waved goodbye to the two excitable girls.
Quinn steadied himself to brave the harsh sunlight again and gingerly took his first step on his injured left foot. The pain was certainly there, but Quinn was thankful the rock only gave him a limp and found that walking on the left side of his foot alleviated some of the pain. The walk back was uncomfortable and uneventful, with Quinn arriving at his apartment building about 20 minutes later. It was a three-story building that was older than him, with a gray stucco exterior and pine green doors and shutters. Quinn also saw another fixture of the building’s facade, Mrs. Garcia, sitting on the porch of the right first-floor apartment.
Mrs. Garcia had been the landlady ever since Quinn, Phanpy, and his mom moved to Ashford when he was a freshman in high school. Quinn wouldn’t say Mrs. Garcia was a stereotypically nice old lady, having to deal with her fair share of drunks and druggies who wouldn’t leave the property, but Quinn knew she had a really good heart.
When Quinn’s mom died four years ago, Quinn had just legally become an adult and was still only working as a busboy at the diner in the center of Ashford. With no income other than what he made as a part-time busboy, Quinn wouldn’t have passed any of Mrs. Garcia’s normal standards to get the lease for the apartment he still lived in. However, Mrs. Garcia took a chance on Quinn, and even though it took a couple of months, Quinn got his construction job and had been able to make rent each month since.
“Evening, Mrs. Garcia,” Quinn greeted at the same time that Phanpy waved his trunk up in the air.
“Quinn, Phanpy,” Mrs. Garcia nodded. “Quinn, you look horrible.”
“Oh no, Mrs. Garcia. What am I going to do? My date is going to be here any minute.” Quinn tried to match the deadpan delivery that Mrs. Garcia had just given him.
“You could start by diving in the dumpster out back. That would be an improvement.” Mrs. Garcia finished the barb with a sip from her lemonade, and Quinn could have sworn he saw a slight smile as she sipped.
“Oh wait, my date is actually with your weeds. Hopefully, they won’t mind my disheveled appearance.” Quinn kneeled in front of the garden bed that lined Mrs. Garcia’s porch.
“Good, I don’t discount your rent for nothing. Anybody in Ashford would kill for your deal.” Mrs. Garcia placed the lemonade back down on the table next to her and reached out to Phanpy, inviting him over for some scratches. Phanpy hustled over to Mrs. Garcia’s side.
Quinn rolled his eyes before looking down to start pulling the weeds. It was mainly for show; Quinn knew taking care of the outdoor yard work for a lower rent kept him from joining the ranks of the homeless over the years. Lucy had suggested the deal about a year after she and Quinn moved in. At that time, all the plants were dead or dying, and the lawn was pretty much dirt sprinkled with weeds. Lucy had quite the green thumb, and she always got Quinn and Phanpy to help out. Quinn and Phanpy could never replicate his mom’s efforts, and Mrs. Garcia still used the five-year-old pictures of the complex for all of her ads, but Quinn was proud that it was nice enough that the neighborhood kids used the lawn for any games they played.
“Phanpy, when Mrs. Garcia gets sick of you like she is of me, will you go and water all the bushes and the lawn? It hasn’t rained in days,” Quinn asked while pulling up a partially stubborn weed, making sure to get the whole root.
“Oh, if I ever get sick of Phanpy, check my pulse and call the morgue.” Mrs. Garcia continued scratching Phanpy behind his left ear. “But the lawn does need water. Phanpy, go water, and after you’re done, I’ll give you a treat and we can finish up your pampering session.” At this, Phanpy’s ears perked up, and he immediately started spraying the bushes next to the porch.
Quinn knew it wouldn’t take long for Phanpy to water the whole lot as he watched him move to the front lawn. It didn’t use to be that way, though. Quinn remembered that Phanpy used to only water the bushes and flowers, and he'd have to carry a bucket with him that he'd fill up from the spout at the back of the property. Phanpy was strong enough that carrying the bucket and turning the spout on and off wasn’t a problem, but the whole process took a long time.
Until one day, when Quinn was looking up funny videos of elephant Pokemon and came across a video of a Phanpy that knew [Rain Dance] and used it to water crops. Quinn knew that [Rain Dance] was a hard move to learn for most Pokemon and didn’t know anyone that could help Phanpy master it. However, if a Phanpy could learn [Rain Dance], then Quinn thought there was no reason that his Phanpy couldn’t learn a simple move like [Water Gun].
Quinn had no idea where to even start with teaching a new move. Everything online said that you needed to either go to a gym that specializes in that move, have a Pokemon of the same species who knows the move teach your Pokemon, or at the very least, buy a Technical Machine for that move. Quinn was up a river without a paddle as the only gym in town was a Fire-type gym, and as far as he knew, no Phanpy knew the move [Water Gun]. There were plenty of TMs out there, and they didn’t cost that much, but everyone knew that even the well-made ones were ineffective at best. TMs were basically just videos of trainers and Pokemon performing the move and talking through what it feels like. Quinn didn’t want to spend what little money he had on a potentially useless TM, so he and Phanpy just threw everything at the wall and hoped something would stick.
Every day after that, Quinn and Phanpy would spend at least an hour after school trying to learn [Water Gun]. There was a creek down by the police station that had a good foot of water running through it, and that’s where Quinn and Phanpy would train. Quinn knew that he had no chance of learning how to create water like a Pokemon could, but he decided to do everything that he asked Phanpy to do. They tried sucking water through their mouths and shooting it out of their noses, which was quite a painful experience for Quinn. They tried laying in the river for minutes with just their noses sticking out of the water for air. they'd just hold water in their mouths while sitting on the bank, but that usually turned into Quinn and Phanpy trying to make the other one laugh and spit up the water. Most of the trees along the whole creek were marked with missing bark from Phanpy practicing, but he could never produce water on his own. Then they had a breakthrough on an overcast afternoon.
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Phanpy was distracted by a Zigzagoon in a tree as Quinn snuck up on him and pushed him into the creek. After the shock wore off, Phanpy narrowed his eyes at a laughing Quinn, quickly sucked up some water with his trunk, and absolutely drenched Quinn mid-laugh. Knocked on his butt by the torrent of water, Quinn wiped his eyes to see Phanpy triumphant in his revenge. Quinn then realized that there was no possible way that Phanpy could have sucked up that amount of water in such a short time. They ran back to the apartment to grab the bucket Phanpy used for yard work — Quinn filled it up halfway and asked Phanpy to suck up all the water and spit it back out into the bucket. Phanpy did so, and he filled the bucket up until it started to overflow. Quinn was no Pokemon biologist, but he had confirmed his hypothesis. After a lot of celebrating and with a newfound vigor for training, Phanpy only focused on sucking up some water and then producing as much as he could. Slowly but surely, Phanpy needed less and less water to overfill the bucket, eventually being able to fill it up with no previous intake at all.
Moving on to the next garden bed, Quinn thought about Sofia and Jenny’s reaction to Phanpy’s hat-balancing trick. It was sort of ironic that Sofia and Jenny didn’t even question the most unusual aspect — Quinn was pretty confident they had just met the only Phanpy on earth that knew [Water Gun].
By the time Quinn finished up all the weeding, Phanpy was getting 5-star treatment from Mrs. Garcia, who was using both hands to massage Phanpy’s back. He looked so happy that Quinn debated if he wanted to risk asking Mrs. Garcia for a back rub. Electing the safer option, he asked, “Have you seen anything interesting from your lookout today?”
“Besides the hobo and his Phanpy? There actually was one suit who came a little after lunch. She was looking for you.” Mrs. Garcia looked toward the stairwell. “She said she had some important information for you but wouldn’t tell me any more than that and left a letter in your mailbox.”
“How cheap was the suit? If I get another offer to buy a Magnemite who will eliminate my power bill, I'm going to puke.”
“Nice suit, but she was cagey. No such thing as a free lunch out there,” Mrs. Garcia said while finally ending Phanpy’s massage.
Quinn agreed 100% with that sentiment. “Thanks for the heads up. Phanpy, let's go. I need to get this poop out of my hair.”
Quinn walked to the bottom of the stairwell, grabbed his keys out of his pocket, and opened his mailbox. Sure enough, there was a regular envelope addressed to him on top of all the other mail he had gotten in the past couple of days. He grabbed all of it and set up the stairs. Quinn and Phanpy lived on the third floor, and walking up the stairs put a lot of pressure on his bandage, making him lean heavily on the railing. He tried to be quiet to keep any of his talkative neighbors from poking their heads out, further delaying the sweet relief that a cold shower was going to give him.
Finally getting into his apartment, he threw his keys and mail on the couch in the living room and headed straight to the bathroom, taking off and leaving his clothes in the hallway on the way. Quinn got a good whiff of himself and didn’t blame Mrs. Garcia for any of the insults she gave him earlier. He started the shower off cold, which brought welcome relief, but turned up the heat as he got more and more comfortable. He had to wash his hair with shampoo four times to finally get it clean — the water had seeped into the drain with a brown hue for most of the shower.
Quinn turned off the water and noticed his bathroom was doubling as a sauna. He hurried to dry off, wrap his towel around his waist, and open the door to let out the steam. “Ok, Phanpy. Your turn.”
Quinn could have described what happened in the next couple of minutes without opening his eyes. Phanpy was quite particular about his bathing routine. He placed his hard hat next to Quinn’s shoes by the front door and marched into the bathroom. He then grabbed his towel off the three-foot hook Quinn had installed by the sink, put his towel on the covered toilet seat, switched the shower diverter, and then closed the drain. Then Phanpy turned the shower knob to precisely a 49-degree angle, set his loofah on the edge of the tub, squirted soap onto it, climbed into the tub, pulled the shower curtain 98% of the way closed, and waited a minute for the shower tub to fill up with about four inches of water. The next 30 minutes to an hour would consist of Phanpy cleaning himself with the loofah and rinsing himself off with his trunk. Quinn never minded how long Phanpy took and counted his lucky stars to have a Pokemon that was so self-sufficient.
While Phanpy did his thing, Quinn wiped the steam off the mirror to get a better look at himself. Quinn measured tall at a few inches over six feet with broad shoulders, long arms, and a torso that took up a significant amount of his total height, which made it hard to find button-down shirts that fit. He was in pretty good shape at about 220 pounds. Working construction and walking to work every day kept him what people would probably describe as “farm strong.” However, his diet of ramen and microwaved burritos prevented him from pursuing a modeling career.
Quinn started picking at the top of his head to make sure it was clear once and for all. He had very fine light brown hair that was getting long enough to cover the top of his ears. He was constantly tempted to buzz his head as the humidity in Ashford made it incredibly frizzy, but the one time he did buzz it his mom said it made him look like he just got out of prison.
He had bright blue eyes that all his past girlfriends had adored. Lucy and her parents all had brown eyes so he figured it was the only good thing his father had given him. He had a smaller nose and a very round face. Quinn’s resting face was not what anyone would describe as inviting. In fact, through high school, a lot of his friends thought he didn’t like them at first. He tried to combat this by being more expressive with his face and smiling whenever appropriate. His face and arms were tanned from hours in the sun, but he winced at the farmer’s tan that kept his chest a shade of ghostly white.
There was a reason that Quinn kept bandages in his purse — scabs and scars were peppered across his entire body from nicks and scrapes he had gotten over the years working construction. The last thing of note on his body was a three-inch tattoo on his left pec. It was a black-and-gray image of a tree stump with the tip of a scythe planted in the center.
Quinn’s attention then turned to his foot as he lifted it to rest on the top of the sink. The bandage was already coming off due to his shower, and he ripped the rest off quickly. He found some antiseptic and new bandages behind the bathroom mirror and proceeded to dress the wound.
Quinn made his way to his bedroom, making sure to pick up his dirty clothes along the way to throw in the hamper, and changed into his old high school basketball shorts and a band t-shirt he had gotten from a concert he went to earlier in the year. He then grabbed a soda and granola bar in the kitchen before flopping down on the couch next to his mail. He heard Phanpy spray himself as he picked up the mysterious envelope that the suit had left him. It was a normal white envelope that was slightly larger than the standard size and he could tell there was more than just one piece of paper in it. Risking a paper cut, Quinn slid his index finger into the gap and ripped it open. Dumping the contents out, he found there was a single leaf of paper wrapped around another smaller royal blue-colored envelope.
He set the envelope aside and opened the paper to see it had government letterhead across the top, reading “Havenwood City Courts.” He felt a wave of anxiety but continued to the contents of the letter.
Dear Quinn Gray,
My name is Amanda Ward and I work for the city of Havenwood as a court-appointed executor. My job is to manage any estates for the citizens of Havenwood that die without a will in place. You may or may not know this, but Paul Royal, your biological father, has recently passed away.