My Name is Loto [Pokémon Fanfiction]

00| Let Me Tell You About Myself

Noise, sickly yellow lights illuminating worn and stained counters and tables, the overpowering scent of alcohol. At a first glance, this would seem like every other sleazy, alley-concealed dive bar around the city. But this one is slightly different. It has a rather unique patron who frequents the place on almost a daily basis. He sits in the same spot nearly every time: a small corner table that only seats two.

He's an anomaly in this place. His appearance is too youthful for the type of place this is. But the way he observes the drunken passerby and the pair of empty glasses on the table in front of him say that he's right where he belongs.

His gaze darts up before his head does the same. "Huh? Oh, hey there," he mutters. "Sooo... whaddya want from me?"

His eyes narrow in confusion and unease. "You just want to talk? Wow, that's... odd. Is it because I don't look threatening?" He smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Don't lie. Out of everyone here, of course you'd pick the person who looks like a literal child. I can tell ya that I'm neither of those things. So you still wanna talk?" His smirk fades into an uncharacteristic frown. "You do?"

He seems to realize something then, and he straightens up a little. "Wait, you know about me?" Then his posture settles again. "Ah, makes sense that he told you. Sorry, but I can't do anythin' for ya at the moment. I've run out of supplies, and right now I'm waitin' for the next shipment to come in so I can go... pick it up."

He squints in annoyance. "You still wanna talk, huh? If you insist, but only if ya buy me a round or two," he says as he lazily swirls around the last few drops of liquor in the glass he holds. "The good rum here is getting expensive." He doesn't speak again until two more glasses filled with vile copper liquid are placed before him on the table, then his eyes light up. But even then he refuses to speak until both glasses are drained of their contents. He gulps it down, but not before pinching his nose shut, like he can't stand the smell. He likely only sticks around here for the booze itself.

It isn't long until a light haze seems to fog his eyes. With his small stature and frame, it's no wonder that the alcohol in his system is starting to catch up with him. His smile soon returns, though his slouched shoulders and tired gaze alter its meaning. "Ya still won't leave me the hell alone?" he says, chuckling to himself. "Really wanna hear 'bout more than what I'm selling? Since you've been sooo nice, guess I could share a few things." His brow furrows, as if he's trying to recall something. "First off, I'm sure ya know this, but my name is Loto... And for a long time that was it."

Another chuckle escapes him. "'You didn't know your last name?' you might ask? That's a fantastic question!" For a moment, the haze surrounding him seems to clear. "And nope, I didn't! I didn't know anythin' else, either. It's been three years since all of that, and it's been three years since I first woke up on Tranquelum with no memories. Amnesia, I know, how cliché. I won't try to justify myself. I know I'm known for lying, so take that as ya will."

But then the fogginess returns, like if one tried to bat away mist, only for more to take its place and resettle. "Really curious now? I'm not surprised." He picks up one of the empty glasses and gazes into it, looking for either excuses or more rum—or perhaps both. "Hmph. I guess I could tell ya how I've come to be where I am now..."

He gives up in looking and puts the glass back down with a solid tap, sighing as he does. "Eh, fine. Consider yourself special, 'cause I almost never talk to anybody besides a few close people, including the Noseks." The slightest smirk quirks the corner of his mouth. "Who're they? Well, you'll just have to wait and see."

The smirk grows as he begins to snicker. "Oh, and I can tell ya right now things'll get kinda nasty at times! I mean, even if I weren't in this business I'd still be hated by many because of what I am by nature, so I'm warnin' you now." He's fully laughing now, and the bar's other patrons start casting him looks. He either doesn't seem to notice or care though. "But if you're fine with that—and I can already tell you are, we're all a little morbidly curious—then pull up a chair, and let's begin!"