Archive of Our Own

Florian combs through dark chocolate hair as he races past four, five, six doors along the bumpy, weeds-wracked sidewalk framing a motel parking lot. Miradon bounds beside him, segmented steel-grey tongue flopping as it beelines toward a gangly, panicking girl wrapped in baggy clothes.

"D-Down boy…"

Penny backs her right foot from the second to the third corrugated metal step of the motel's open riser staircase. Her left hand pushes out, as if wielding some invisible force of telekinesis.

Each skittish breath threatens her posture.

"Freeze!"

The boy skids to a halt, scraping his black-and-red high-tops on the pavement. His Pokemon's hind legs fold and it slides onto its rear.

They're less than a foot away from Penny.

She looses a relieved sigh; her glasses are safe from robot-lizard-dog slobber for another day.

Florian suppresses his panting through shallow, controlled breaths. He stands at attention, exuding as much Champion swagger as possible in his houndstooth winter uniform, despite looking halfway between haircuts.

Miraidon's modem whine buzzes against the pavement. Its titanium claws leave scuffs as it waffles between its front limbs.

Florian chuckles. "Don't worry, you'll get her next time."

He rests a hand beneath Miraidon's antennae eyelashes, and runs it down the purring Pokemon's neck. As its anxieties cool, Florian joins their foreheads, tingling when electricity crackles against Miraidon's tinted glass like a plasma ball toy. Rounded panels along its back-leg joints vent steam.

"Murr…"

Miraidon cocks its head and trails a coarse lick up its trainer's face. Florian laughs at the gesture, straining to keep Miraidon at bay. "Alright! Okay, that's enough," he manages between sporadic chuckles.

The Iron Serpent returns to its Poke Ball in a flash of red energy. However, it leaves a huge cowlick on Florian's head.

"If you're done buggering about—"

Florian finds Penny already halfway up the stairs, dragging her palm on the railing behind her.

"—we're missing the whole get-together!"

Penny rolls her eyes forward to avoid catching her boyfriend's infectiously charming grin.

Florian skips two steps at a time to close Penny's lead on the rickety climb, arcing the outer wall so they end up elbow-to-shoulder. He hooks both hands behind his head.

"Thanks for inviting me along, Pen." Florian ascends at a bent angle to share his pearly whites. "We spend so much time with Arven and Nemona, I'm excited to meet more of your friends!"

"Meet?"

Her boot barely misses the last step. Penny yelps.

She clasps the railing with both arms to catch herself, but shoos Florian's motion to help. After lifting her foot away from the gap with all the caution of a Glaseado hiker, Penny aims her late-November shadow over the walkway. She ensures her foot is planted, and then pulls herself up.

Florian watches from the second-story as Penny hikes her fluffy Eevee pack up her right shoulder. Her left hand white-knuckle grips the banister.

"Florian, you've met my other pals."

The boy tilts his head into a series of contorted expressions: a raising brow of intrigue, furrowing confusion, a tongue thoughtfully sweeping across his lower lip, and a left eye squinting to match the slow tap of his shoe. Then, finally, Penny sees the wide-eyed fear of realization dawning.

"Oh." Florian clears his throat, mimicking Penny's nervous play with his sleek Blueberry Academy backpack. "Are they still mad at me about the whole…" He wobbles his hands in a noncommittal gesture. "… trying to disband their friendship club, thing?"

"Probably."

Penny swivels to crawl down the sandpaper walkway, her Eevee case Rotom Phone floats out into the open with a scrolling social media feed. Each step echoes creaking metal. She curls to keep an eye on the pavement below.

"Don't worry." Penny rolls her head along her shoulder. Red hair falls further than her broad forehead, obscuring parts of her trim spectacles. "If anyone gives you guff, I'll set 'em straight."

Paldea's Champion wheezes, and then he jogs to catch up.

The motel's second floor furnishings are identical to the first, with fire hydrant red doors carved out of olive-green plaster. It sits stout on the outskirts of Mesagoza, where denizens overlook a wall of skyscrapers. Every apartment but one has their curtains drawn. Inside dingy apartment 2C sleeps a rotund man in a snow-white suit, back to the drooping sun. He's drenched in blue light from a flat screen pop-up reading "Are you still watching?" overtop the MediPoke Network's Dr. Drifloon, M.D. marathon. Florian recognizes this episode: The good doctor uses its strings to steady the hand of the hospital's heart surgeon, returning to the job after their own harrowing triple bypass.

"I'm mostly worried about getting kicked out," Florian mutters. He cranes his neck to watch the medical drama as long as possible.

"You've only got Ortega to watch." She hip-checks Florian as their strides sync up. "He's paying the rent on this shite little hovel."

"Really?" Florian's eyes catch a water stain sunk into the balcony overhang (perhaps the source of that funk in the air). "Figured he would have more…" His tongue clicks. "Affluent tastes."

"He did." Penny smiles weakly. She ventures to hook his pinky. "Until his allowance cut on account of that whole 'playing hooky' stunt."

Their destination is the final door for apartment 2F, which boasts a segmented Team Star logo in gold. The lower-left prong of the sticker curls as muffled beats jostle loose hinges.

Penny unfurls. Florian keeps walking, and bumps their linked hands before reversing course.

She raises their conjoined pinkies. The other hand stuffs her Kangaskhan pouch.

"If you've got a hankerin' for my crew, here's the passcode."

Knock

Florian snorts.

"You have a 'secret knock' for your clubhouse? Surprised girls are allowed."

"Oi." Penny shoves his head with their shared hand. "Shut yer gob."

The play-strife is interrupted when a lock clicks. Penny struggles to get a solid grip on the slippery brass doorknob, and so curls her whole arm to keep the knob twisted as she pushes with her shoulder.

It unsticks suddenly.

Penny bursts inside.

She clomps to a standstill over two lanky steps. Five sets of surprised eyes watch as she goes from a half-squat to fully upright, with both hands pushing her sweatshirt past her translucent skirt.

"Erm." She clears her throat. "Hey, chums."

Team Star's bosses stare a moment longer, and then Giacomo breaks the pregnant pause. Punk rock booms from his turntable as he scratches the rightmost record. His left hand points out the entering pair.

A foot-tall Pawniard on the countertop matches his movements with its blades.

"If it ain't the whiz kid herself! Comin' in hot like a radiant Minior!"

"Welcome!" A collective of voices around the apartment's boxy living room ring out. Penny's smile blooms as she greets everyone individually, bouncing on her toes.

From Giacomo, whose DJ setup blocks the only walkway out of the living room, her gaze trails the kitchen's peninsula wall. Atticus sit in cross-legged meditation on a maroon sofa chair's poison-puddle doily, which blends into their ninja attire. Along the eastern wall, Ortega man-spreads against the right arm of a grey-knit couch. He twinkles at Penny, and then returns to the Rotom Phone against his Fairy suit lapel. A golden scepter twirls in his off-hand. On a leathery black couch closest to the door, Mela stews beneath olive curtains; an assortment of throw pillows from three years' spring collections spread around her. Eri stretches across Mela's impractical boots like a bride on her wedding day. A bright smile highlights the smeared lips of her ogre face paint.

"This is the cabron you wanted to invite, Penny?" Mela's scathing tone draws a gasp from the girl in her lap.

Florian freezes naught two feet inside the apartment. He melts under the harsh spotlight cast by Team Star's Fire-type expert. The best he can offer in rebuttal is an awkwardly Tyrantrum-scrunched wave.

"Mellie!"

Eri pulls one arm from Mela's neck to caress her cheek, which is speckled with black-and-blue lipstick prints. The Fire-type trainer's poise flickers.

"Don't be rude!" Eri tenses her jaw. "You know how much Florian means to B.B."

"Y-Yeah… Sorry, Eri."

Mela simmers, staring at frayed strings on the curtain. Her pale cheeks run hot.

Ortega's single laugh squeals over the soundscape of a drumming Rillaboom.

"As long as he keeps away from the microwave." The boy's phone can't contain his venomous smarm. "We've seen what he does to fine-tuned machinery."

That draws giggles from a few people around the room, including Florian. Even so, Penny shrinks inward.

Maybe this blend wasn't going to work.

Giacomo slides free of his turntable and jaunts toward their special guest. He presses the right muff of his headphones against his ear.

"The more folks I can entrance with my fresh beats, the merrier!" Giacomo clasps Florian's shoulder. When Florian looks up from his slouch, the two share a cheery grin.

Penny's concerns evaporate.

Giacomo leads Florian through an impromptu handshake. The red-to-yellow-to-green soundboard straps of his backpack sway as he puts his whole body into the choreography:

First they high-five lengthwise.

Then their knuckles clack in a backhanded reverse-five.

Giacomo reaches further to grasp Florian's wrist.

It takes Florian a second to reciprocate, and Giacomo shakes his arm.

The DJ snaps his fingers as he draws his hand away. His fluidity coalesces into a steady stance, with fingers tented over his nose. He shoots the bewildered Florian a cocksure grin.

With practiced expertise, Giacomo traces the shape of a star with his hands. His body is statuesque as he draws the top spike, and then its two arms. After that he hops, spreading his legs in the same motion he throws out his hands. White sneakers squeak together to complete the shape.

Florian's brain fogs as he stares at the man's rejoined fingers.

Instead of his own Team Star salute, he presents a double thumbs-up.

Atticus starts a polite golf clap as Team Star's Dark-type expert cackles like a Mandibuzz. Giacomo slams Florian's shoulder, and then pulls him into a headlock. Florian flails as the DJ noogies his hair flat.

Ortega pounds his baton-scepter on the wood-panel flooring, his Rotom Phone takes a steady snap. Mela and Eri stop paying attention to swap shades of red and blue.

Through Giacomo's arm, Florian watches Penny skip — yes, skip! — over to Atticus' chair. She sweeps up a Malamar's Bar from their hoard of sweets along the way.

"Lady Penny approacheth!" The ninja's magenta head covering shifts as they pull their legs up. The fingers of their right hand bloom over their chest like a flower. "Mine heart swells to three-times that of Galar's most splendiferous Copperajah when thy presence graces our humble abode."

Penny's thin lips crack into a rare display as she dramatically flops back into the chair and unwraps her snack. She sits perpendicular to Atticus, her polarity leggings splayed over their shoes.

"You're too much, Atticus!"

"Nay, 'twould be a disservice to all good in this realm should I deny thee due compliments… Only when you rest thine weary head of blues and reds shall you slip my barrage!"

"Whatever, dork."

Penny rolls her eyes over an exaggerating grin. Then, she puts in a hearty crunch.

The moment she motions to remove her glasses, Atticus whips off their headpiece to expose their crystal blue irises and platinum game show hair. They present Penny the splotch of magenta and green, and she uses it to wipe smudges.

"Pray tell m'lady, sate mine curiosity…" They rest each hand on Penny's respective wrists, loose enough to not restrict her movements. "… Hath thou watched the most recent Palafin Academia?"

She gasps like tire tread on asphalt, spewing bits of chocolate. Penny drops her glasses and tries three, four times to coordinate her hands enough that she can cup Atticus' between them. The girl's legs kick wildly past the chair's left armrest as she lifts and drops her friend's digits in concert with each breathless squeak.

"_Oh—

"Oh man—

"Oh man—

"Oh man! It was so. Sososo. So good."

Atticus bubbles to life, rustling the poison doily.

"Truly, Maractus-Man's dulcet tones shall e'er serve as the voice of this generation!"

As Penny and Atticus dive into their anime chitchat, Giacomo affixes his Poke Ball headphones; the headband rustles bristling wings of hair, which jut out from a hat patterned with audio playback icons.

"Yo. Get ready, you're 'bout to hear a hit new single by the DJ Vice and his boi, Slice. Somethin' I know boss lady's gunna love!"

He pirouettes toward the turntable, and then freezes.

"Slice, no!" Giacomo belts. "Y'don't literally scratch the record!"

The Dark-type trainer shimmies back through a slim gap between his crate-shaped tech and the cracked granite countertop of the kitchen peninsula. Meanwhile, Ortega looks up from his phone with a scowl. He hides half its case, emblazoned with his family's apparel logo, under the wavy folds of his jacket.

"Giacomo!" Ortega's intensity whines, nigh pubescent. "You CAN'T keep calling it NEW music if you've been playing the same song nooonstop for three weeks."

"Tch." Giacomo holds his right hand out, index and middle fingers in a diagonal 'V.' He stops the current song by lowering gauges, all the while holding Pawniard back with his elbow. "Y'know you love it, Ortega!"

"… You know you're the most annoying person here!"

Florian finally gets his hair back in a state he can be happy with following Giacomo's roughhousing — only for it to spring back into a half-dozen funny shapes from Miraidon's residual static. "Figures," he mutters.

"Hark, Florian." Atticus cycles their hand along their wrist in a grandiose invitation. "Thy presence is surely worth more than darkening Ortega's doorstep. Come, come, sate thine hollow belly with Paldea's finest hors d'oeuvres!"

The foldout picnic table between Team Star's suite of seats hosts a buffet from Uva Academy's School Store. Three Cleffa-cut glass bowls sit in central positions. They hold orange-dusted Snoritos, colorful candy-coated chocolates with Squawkabilly beaks prints, and pub-style pretzels contorted into the shape of Dachsbun ears. All three are down to the dregs, with most of their contents splashed around boxes of foreign candies and ring-stained coasters that adorn the rest of the table.

As Florian takes in the sights and cheesy smells, a Charcadet reaches out from beneath the table to snatch a discarded pretzel. Its auburn glow flares with a chomp soon after it retreats into cover.

Naught one step further, Mela's commanding bark melts his soles to the floor.

"Hey!"

She shoots daggers even as her head bobs, drunk with the affection stamped across her face. The yellow tuft prodding atop her flaming hair dips nearly to the chain-wrapped violet choker upon which Eri hangs, pulling Mela off-center. Eri's wiry silver hair sweeps over a green pillow crocheted with a Comfey lei pattern.

"Close that damn door, would ya'?" Mela spits. "If our heatin' bill goes through the roof, I'm beatin' the cash out of your bank account!"

The Champion salutes. He scrambles to the entrance, and fails to close it normally. It sticks at the doorframe, wood warped beyond its factory dimensions. So, Florian pulls the red slab back, and then slams it with the same shoulder-bash that Penny attempted earlier. A crash rocks the entire complex.

Florian groans as he leans against the door. His shoulder throbs; it's unclear whether or not something is broken.

Unfortunately for Florian, that noise offers an atmospheric break that Giacomo uses to his advantage. His next song erupts with a sudden jolt. House music diffuses through thin walls. The electronic sound has a quick tempo, and is overlaid with the kind of twinkling instrumentals that one might expect of a pop anthem.

DJ Vice takes over: "LET'S HEAR IT, PARTY PEOPLE!"

Penny's arms fling high. She cheers loudest of all.

Despite the pain, Florian can't help but smile seeing Penny wave it all in the air like she just don't care.

He returns to the black couch and grabs a handful of chocolates as Eri — reluctantly — shifts between Florian and Mela, not wanting to kick him with her unreasonably long, unreasonably toned legs.

"Nectar for this heavenly ambrosia?" Atticus calls above the music, glancing around Penny's arms as they gyrate with zero rhythm.

The ninja gestures toward a set of plastic liter bottles arranged in a full ROYGBV rainbow on the kitchen countertop. Florian points to the red Cheri Berry soda — its label proclaims, "Now made with genuine Shuckle juice!"

Atticus goes to pour a literal golden goblet.

However, Florian's attention is drawn to a strong hand on his shoulder, which leads him toward the looming ogre.

"So, what have you been up to, Florie?"

Florian gets front-row seats to Mela rolling so she can get her stiff boots aside and snatch a bag of spicy jerky off the grainy table.

"Ah, well…" He clears his throat, and meets Eri's sparkling silver eyes. "I started an exchange program at Blueberry Academy in Unova."

"Oh!" Eri claps. "That sounds exciting!"

"It's a cool place! They've got their own Pokemon League. I'm, uh… Kind of already the Champion."

He figures now isn't the time or place to talk about his spat with Kieran, or their near-demise in the deep, dark underbelly of Area Zero.

"Nary a one of us would expect a less fortuitous outcome!" Atticus says. Penny leaves their seat vacant to hand off Florian's beverage.

"Unfortunately." Ortega sounds spiteful as a Banette.

"Yeh. Doesn't sound like you're playin' to your weight class." Mela adds through a mouthful of jerky. "It'd be impressive if it weren't so annoyin'."

Eri brightens like a Lillipup at Mela's allusion to sports. "I don't think it's annoying at all, Mellie! We got some fun battles out of it."

"Mmm." Mela scratches at her neck beneath the collar. Pink skin spreads like magma over pale. "Just sayin', is there anybody out there who gives you a challenge?"

Florian shrugs, again shrinking under a dozen pairs of eyes.

"… Nemona beats me sometimes."

"It's true!" Penny claps to the beat of Giacomo's jam — now on its fifth refrain. "You should've seen their last blowout at Nemona's beach house in Cabo Poco." She looks around, gesticulating her tale for the rest of Team Star. "We stayed a bit after he flew in, and I've never seen 'im sweat so bloody much."

"It was also hot that day…" Florian rebuts.

Snickers pick up around the room.

The Champion feels his head pound from the thumping baseline. Fingers pluck at strings on the stomach of his sweater.

"Speaking of, can I ask you something Eri?"

Eri looks surprised, but quickly smiles and nods. Florian only has to look past the inferno of Mela's glare around her shoulder.

"You wear that makeup all the time, yeah? Even while you exercise?"

"Mmhm!" Eri flexes her bicep.

"How are you not constantly breaking out?"

Giacomo scratches his record to a halt. The sudden stillness emphasizes the intensity of Eri's nonplussed stare.

"… Girls don't sweat, Florian."

His left eye squints. "Huh?"

"You heard her," Penny snorts. "We don't."

Atticus keep out of the conversation with a convenient sip of soda.

"Not even once." Eri shakes her head, eyes closed.

As Florian looks to each Team Star member for a lifeline, he finds it in an unexpected place: Ortega's smirk.

"Don't listen to them." He presses the phone screen against his right arm. "Should've seen Eri sweat when she wanted to kiss Mela 'sooooooo bawad.'"

Eri slams her hands onto Florian and Mela's thighs in lieu of armrests. She pushes herself up, leans forward, and aims the most ghastly stare she can at Ortega.

"C O M E A G A I N, O R T I E?"

Ortega immediately folds. His phone flies and he jumps out of his skin, into the cover of a nearby quilt.

"S-Sorry Eri!"

Eri creaks back into her seat, giving Florian a better view of Mela's love-struck gaze.

"That's what I thought." The Fighting-type expert pulls at a faux karate belt. "I don't want any guff from the man who's never kissed a girl in his life."

The slight boy flaunts the blanket off his face, chompers baring.

"Because I kiss BOYS!"

Eri dips her head. "My point stands."

Giacomo rattles off nasally cackles as he dances into the kitchen to pour himself a drink, footfalls deafening with the lack of music. Everyone tunes up a symphony of merriment — all but Ortega, who scrambles out of his blanket just long enough to snatch his phone before curling into a strawberry shortcake-hued bean.

"You're all. The. WORST."

Once the laughter begins to settle, Penny pushes off Atticus to take the center of attention.

"Oi, chums." Her glasses gleam to obscure her eyes. Just like — well, you know. "Can I free the Vees?"

DJ Vice sputters on his glass of Eiscue Blue Razz Berry Blast. He needs to be the first to chime in with a raised fist.

"Here here!"

"I would be remiss to not cast my democratic favors toward an in-Vee-sion as well, my liege."

"Not much space in here." Mela contorts again to grab snacks, this time dropping a few for Charcadet. "But one or two'd be good, I'm thinkin'."

"… As long as Sylveon is one." Ortega's voice echoes dimly from his bean.

Penny takes the last eager nod from Eri as her sign to jump out of the chair. She swings her Eevee backpack around so it's strapped to her chest, and rummages within. With a modest pitch, two Poke Balls fly into the air, and cast red energy down to the apartment's wood paneling.

Sylveon and Umbreon appear to either side of her fur-lined boots.

"AW YEAH!" Giacomo cries, nearly throwing himself over the counter to point out Umbreon. "That's my boy down there!"

The Dark-type Pokemon grooms his front-left paw, fawning at the compliment. Then he scampers under the table to leap aboard the busiest sofa. His paws scrunch the black leather, but quiet down as he balances across six legs: Mela's, Eri's, and then Florian's. He takes pets the entire way, but only curls up in Florian's lap.

The boy seems more than happy to scratch behind the purring monster's ear.

Sylveon saunters to the grey couch where Ortega hides. She takes the seat alongside him with a wispy mewl. Ortega emerges just enough to pet the Fairy-type, hair now matted with sweat. He scrolls social media in his off-hand.

Penny's ace paints the empty air with singsong humming and Van Gogh ribbon swirls, a far cry from Giacomo's electronic ballad. Charcadet appears more willing to emerge from its hiding place, much to Mela's delight; she leans over her boots to mutter sweet baby talk while chewing through another handful of chocolates. The Fire-type Pokemon takes one from her palm, reducing half of the remaining pile to a chunky paste not unlike Alolan Muk.

However, Sylveon scares the Fire-type back under cover with a sudden, sharp cry. Her ribbons contort into jagged Picassos, and then fling back to wrap around Ortega's wrist as he grips her scruff.

"_Whoa." He breaths. Once everyone's attention is squarely upon him, Ortega holds out his phone screen. "Did you guys SEE this?"

A full-screen video from a social media stream plays on repeat:

The nosebleed seats in Wyndon's Rose Stadium offer a meager view of two individuals on the grassy pitch.
The feed zooms into a blurry approximation of Galar's Dragon-type Gym Leader, arms crossed.
The more spritely and colorful Iono skips up behind him, flanked by an armada of Rotom drones.
The girl shakes her hands out from her overwrought sleeves, cracks her knuckles, and then gets a solid grip on Raihan's uniform shorts.
The pants drop to his ankles, and Iono leaps away before skidding onto her knees like she's won the Pokemon World Tournament.
The boxers appear to feature a collage of sleepy Dreepy.
The crowd goes wild.
The video shakes until illegible.

"Your sis is a nutcase," Mela says through a mouthful of chocolate.

"I can't believe she actually got away with it!" Eri leans into the crunchy leather with her arms crossed.

"Well, folks paid a lot for the privilege of seeing that bloke's bits." Penny smiles, burrowing into Atticus' toxic garb.

Florian scratches his nose, his Rotom Phone emerging. It flips horizontal to play a differently angled video; the red and green Applin on his Kitakami case tip as though they're about to fall out into the real world. Penny's Eevee phone follows suit.

"Still can't believe you two are related, Pen."

"I can't believe you can put up with her." Ortega turns his own phone back around. "Family or not."

By now, Giacomo is past the tight squeeze of his turntable and joins Ortega's grey couch. He's extra careful to step around Atticus and Penny's feet, so as not to spill his neon blue drink or drop the Pawniard on his shoulder.

"Nothin' wrong with a lil bit of fame, Ortie my man."

Ortega's eyes roll over the edge of his phone. "There is if you KNOW you're the hot new thing, and then ACT like it."

"She's not so bad, honest." Penny pish-poshes. "Little horrid when it comes to her bank account, but you'd never guess it seeing her at family functions."

"Really?" Eri perks up.

Florian acts her doppleganger; Umbreon is barely disturbed.

"Well, sure. The two of us were inseparable growing up. Way more than me 'n Nia." Penny clutches her Eevee bag, and curls her legs up to make sure it's secured. "Like Galarian Tandemaus."

"Aww!"

"Forsooth, what divine sights thy words doth conjure in the mind's eye."

Even Ortega sets his phone aside. Sylveon relishes the extra pets.

Penny's demeanor slumps as she tries to hide behind her red bangs. She plants a broad hand over the lump of her throat.

"Growin' up in Galar isn't super easy when you're… Like me." Penny clears the hoarse, scratching tone. "But Iono never cast any aspersions. Always knew I could come to her 'bout anything, even stuff I couldn't tell our folks.

"She was always the extrovert, with a hard wit and harder fists. Could count on her to back me up irl when a few snarky blows on Instagatr wouldn't cover it.

"And then… Hers were the first ladies' clothes I put on. She gassed me up, let me keep a few blouses. Model her fashion line, too." Penny squeezes the bag until its contents creak and crinkle. "I'll never forget that."

She smiles.

However, her smile seeps into nothingness. The silence becomes eerie, and Penny glances around to similarly fawning looks on each of her friends.

"… What, too much?"

"No!" Atticus and Eri announce simultaneously.

"Not a chance," Mela echoes. "'s very sweet, Penny."

Giacomo practically knocks Sylveon off her perch to raise the roof.

"Especially considering we knew almost nothing about Cassiopeia a few months ago!"

Penny fiddles with her thumbs. Her glasses fog over, obscuring welling tears.

"… Can't think of a better bunch of dorks to just be 'me' around."

Florian beams as he scratches Umbreon's flabby throat. "Love you, Pen."

The girl responds with a blubbery little indistinct sound.

Yet Ortega scoffs.

"Nobody invited YOU to the group huddle."

A few laughs ring out, including from Florian.