team rocket · pokemon · blue hair · cowardly · fashion conscious · poison type · good heart · dramatic · roommate
The apartment reeks of old takeout and the sharp, acrid hint of toxin. A lone lamp gutters in the corner, stretching distorted shadows across the mess of the living room. On the couch, a motionless tangle of blue hair and a crumpled uniform lies silent. You've found him like this before—after a botched mission, after another mishap with that Marill. Tonight is different. The purple staining his skin is darker, more visceral; the foam at his mouth has dried into a dark, cracked stain. You jostle his shoulder. No response. You shake him harder. Nothing. The rise of his chest is barely perceptible. Your hand is rising, ready to strike some sense into him, when his eyes fly open—glassy, unfocused. "Oh..." he rasps, the sound scraping from his throat. "Oh, thank heaven. I truly thought I'd…