Attonement Date

I couldn't help but ignore the garçon who, as soon as I set foot into the restaurant, started interrogating me – what was my name, did I have a reservation, where would I be sitting, etc... -, and that's because I could already see Professor Sycamore sitting in the distance, near the wall, at a small round table with two chairs. His legs were stretched ahead under the table, and both his ankles rested on each side of the free chair I was to claim for myself as soon as I gathered the courage to go there, almost as if he was defending that position. And looking now at his distracted face, I could almost understand why he felt the need: I'm sure every woman in that place wouldn't think twice before inviting themselves to sit with him if they chose to mistake his bored eyes for lonely ones... And amidst all of that was me, standing at the entrance desperately trying to shoot dead the butterflies in my stomach and inwardly begging myself to just go back to the hotel and pretend I was sick.

But my very self-aware conscience's answer was a solid no.

As I approached, Sycamore absorbedly mixed his drink – some brown-colored alcoholic beverage – with his long, pale finger. I wondered if he had been waiting long or if his drinking time usually started this early, but I didn't have to reflect long, for his eyes soon caught up with me:

"Oh! Anne! Have a seat, please..."

Luckily the retreat of his legs followed the recommendation, and I took the chair.

"Good morning Sy- Professor Sycamore!"

He smiled, pleased by my early correction

Calem and I had recently taken to calling him "Sycamore" only. The dismissal of the title might have been initially intended to spite, in Calem's case. As for me, it only helped me pretend to myself that I disliked him as opposed to how much part of me loved that I was getting to see him again.

"I'm so glad you came, after all!" He quickly sucked on his finger, wiping it clean. "I guess I won't be needing this anymore, will I?"

He embarrassedly laughed and placed his half-empty cup on the tray of the nearest garçon passing by our table. My puzzled expression probably made him comfortable again...

"I take it you've never been to this place?"

"No..."

"Then you wouldn't mind me guiding you through it, would you?" He flashed me an excited smile.

"Ugh... guide me... through what?"

"Why, through this place... the experience, the date itself."

Ugh! I wished he would stop using that word so casually.

"As a gourmet enthusiast..." He continued, "I insist! Mademoiselle?"

He removed his hand from his heart, where he previously held it in an elegant gesture, and stretched his long fingers towards me, offering his palm.

I could see through his playful smile that the hearty treatment, the word 'date' and the two of us alone wasn't of much consequence – the Pyroar had only been training his leap, rather than wooing a prey. So I carefully, awkwardly placed my hand inside his own; his grip encircled me comfortably.

He turned his head to the garçon then, calling him with a mute look.

"Are you ready to order, sir?"

"Actualy, uhm..." Sycamore hesitated, looking about himself "I would like to change tables into a more private space, somewhere we can talk without being bothered, isn't that right, Anne?"

He eyed me and tightened his fingers around my hand, probably predicting that my first reaction would be to pull away in shocking embarrassment.

"That can be arranged sir, but..."

"Yes, yes, I know... No need mentioning inconveniences in front of the lady..." He politely interrupted, pulling a bill from inside his coat and offering it with his two fingers.

The garçon ushered us up a flight of stairs – I followed Sycamore from behind, refusing to be taken by the hand as he seemed more than willing to do, lest he might see in my face the reflex of how that made me feel.

We crossed a long corridor to the terrace, and there a small group of charming tables with flowers on top awaited before enormous windows through which the sun gleamed.

"We're lucky: There is no one here but us!" Sycamore observed, pulling me a chair.

I sat and he turned to the waiter. I thought I heard him ask the man to "make sure it remains this way" as he slipped him another bill.

He sat before me, and we were embarrassedly alone once the garçon left us.

***

I chose different distractions to escape the awkward silence: Poking the plate with a fork, playing with the fresh flower on the table, twisting my fingers over my knees...

"Dear Anne! With such beauty in front of you, how can you still look on that empty dish as if you were brooding? Look up, do!" At length he teased.

I lifted my eyes, annoyed that he was so conceited as to consider it a waste of time to look elsewhere other than his face, even if he was right. I examined his eyes, his eyebrows, the few beard stubbles growing across his bony jaw. I wondered for how long I could do that without looking positively silly...

He laughed mockingly, but with innocence, and seized my chin in his fingers:

"Not me, you silly thing... I mean this!"

He turned my face to the side, and through the sunlight that temporarily blinded, I could see the beach, the sea shimmering and stretching into infinity under the scorching star; the gleam shaking and shifting beautifully as the water moved forward in what seemed like a constant effort to reach us.

"Tell me, then: Is it beautiful?" His voice sounded, pulling me back from my musing, though I'm sure his intention was only to add magic to it.

"Looks much better when the sun is shining and the day is a pleasant one, does it not? You and your friends picked a bad day to visit the shore... but I hope to have redeemed the poor lady in your eyes, for she is quite fair in bright spirits." He said, retreating his faze and picking up the menu from the table.

"We weren't there for the sun anyway..." I shrugged "Calem wanted to fish."

"Did he now? Well..." Sycamore sighed, uninterested in following that subject and quickly changing it "Anne, do you like this place where I brought you?"

His eyes weighed mercilessly on me, waiting for the answer. I looked through the window again, feeling uncomfortable, then back to the table: That was a lovely red mosaic cloth, and so were the yellow flowers inside the delicate pot in the center of the table... The view was really fantastic... But it all only made me feel stranger. I frowned.

"I can't help but wonder if you usually hold meetings with your pupils in places like this..."

"What a group of blunt words escape such shy creature when poked!" He laughed, slightly disconcerted "It sounds so unlike you to be so, Anne! I must have really annoyed you far more than I suspected!"

His laugh died, and he sighed playfully.

"Is that what you think this is about, a pupil meeting? Do you see your little friends around us? Why, no! I thought I had made it very clear that I had to speak to you in private, alone... only the two of us."

His blue eyes glimmered with amazing calm, and a constant half-hearted smile never wavered on his face... Not a muscle tensed up! All those observations were intimately annoying to me, when compared to the nervous uproar growing in my chest.

"Alone? With... me?"

"Yes, of course!" He gently added with a comical smile, as if it was something too obvious "After all, I don't make a habit out of ravishing my pupils and going without an apology..."

"Ooooh!" I interrupted, my heart skipping a beat.

"That, and... I do believe you were about to promise to make it our secret, were you not?"

He gazed intently at me, demanding an answer even though I visibly choked with embarrassment. Hopefully I was saved by the garçon, who took the liberty of assuming by now we would be ready to order.

"Oh, Anne... I hope you don't mind?!" Sycamore politely asked, and smiled as I shrugged, for I did not really know what he meant anyway. "The lady shall have one of your specials today..." he turned to the waiter "I have an arrangement with the cook. Can you speak to him and ask for the Professor's special order? Oh, and pass on the message that I am indebted to him!" He pleaded passionately.

Though clearly confused, the garçon nodded and left.

I was once again cornered by his speculative beauty, having had little time to come up with an answer.

"Well, we'll do this, dear: You let me treat you to this day, and that shall be my humble apology, along with the promise that such a misunderstand shall never repeat itself again. What do you say?"

Anything, if it could make us drop the subject at once! I didn't have to dignify him with an agreement though: he smiled gladly, seeing the sign of defeat in my eyes:

"Very well. I believe you have a gym badge to fight for tomorrow, so you won't mind wasting today away with me, will you?" He flashed me a charming grin "What I'm preparing for you today is to be a big secret, mind you! Bigger still than the fact that once a little girl made me kiss her... And both shall be kept in the same deep chest!" He said it quickly, robbing me of time to react.

I believe he could see, over my head, as the garçon approached, climbing the stairs, for as soon as he said "Voilà!", a tray was placed before me on the table with a half-empty coffee mug and small bowls with different portions of what I judged were syrup, vanilla, cream and a splint of cinnamon.

Sycamore nodded and waited until we were left alone again, then he began pouring cream into the cup.

"Hot coffee is a passionate drink, if you stop to think about it: It's bitter and most unpleasant on the tongue, unless sufficiently provided with sugar and other zests. It is equally impetuous if left to be alone, so we add the cream to soften the feel of the drink as it explores your mouth..."

There wasn't much of a secret to the ingredients, I observed, but rather an obsessive accuracy as to how much to add of each one – and he went on, happily passing from one portion to the other.

I started to feel amused and watched closely with a ready smile for how comically exaggerated he was in describing a simple beverage.

"...but one does not soften passion without retaliation, my dear lady!" He lifted a finger, feigning a dangerous warning and wringing a laugh out of me "You run the risk of making it dull... So you shower it with a few drops of perfumed vanilla: exactly four – not one more and not one less, for they are, too, treacherous little things: Less, and they might coward under the bitterness of the black coffee, more and they might get too confident and steal the show for themselves."

I giggled at the grave expression he affected.

"The cinnamon isn't greatly enjoyed by everyone, so you just scare the splinter by diving it into the cream..." He held it inside the cup for a few seconds, then pulled it up, quickly rubbing it against his pink lips and licking the traces of his preparation "I myself love them though, so I just tend to leave it in as long as possible... And, at last..." He grabbed the chocolate syrup and showed it, holding the bottle with delicate fingers "Think of a Spinda's eyes: Two turns are more than plenty to salvage your battered, disarmed passion with the romantic sweetness of the cocoa! And here you have it..."

He placed the mug before me: A puffy cream cover painted with brown drops of vanilla and a swirl of black syrup; his large, bony hand and the elegant watch around his wrist... His most expectant and adorable smile encouraging me! All of it made me dizzy... but altogether pleased! I felt my chest grow warm inside...

"Just like falling in love, I assure you!" he added.

I took a sip and they were all there, as promised: The bitterness, the vanilla insinuation, the uncertain taste of the cinnamon and the delightful chocolate in perfect harmony; a complex mixture of flavors as felt by my unprepared tongue, until then accustomed only to basically sweet chocolate milk and a regular espresso every now and then.

I sealed my lips, locked them, wondered...

"Well?" Sycamore anxiously demanded "Don't be so cruel as to keep me in this silence! Tell me at once: what do you make of it?"

"It's delicious!" I concluded after savoring the aftertaste: only the sweetest remained.

"Magnifique!" He laughed.

...Just like falling in love. I felt the color return to my face, only this time it wasn't caused by crude embarrassment... but by the delicate pleasure of being the center of the Professor's attention for that morning.

"Are you enjoying the drink I prepared you so much that you forgot to enjoy the view from this place?" He pointed out after a few minutes of just sitting there and watching me drink "Or have you just grown bored of it already, dear?"

I was thus reminded to take another look out the larger windows... but he was almost right: though beautiful, I was surrounded by much deeper emotions than the ones provided by mere superficial contemplation. If I were alone, for a starter, or with the group, there would be nothing I would care more about than gazing at the distant sunlit beach.

"No, I'm just... enjoying the drink, that's all!"

"Then I take it you wouldn't be interested in dwelling here much longer after you've finished it?"

"Hmm..." I hesitated, unsure as to where each answer would lead me.

"Tell me then: Did you visit Ambrette Town decently these past few days?"

"I have been to the aquarium, if that's what you're asking..."

"I see! Nothing impressive there, specially not for a girl who's grown bored after I played one of my best cards..." He jokingly teased, pointing towards the window "But no... I have more interesting things to show you there, if you care to accompany me this afternoon."

I hadn't dreamed that Sycamore would indulge me in his presence for much longer than two hours – more than enough time to seduce me into keeping his secret, even though he hadn't really put much effort into it, contrary to what I had imagined – so I promised to meet my friends later for an intensive training session to beat Cyllage's gym leader. Apart from that, after the battle tomorrow we were to head back to Ambrette town again before heading north to menhir trail.

"Trevor was invited by some scientist friend he made to drop by for a tour tomorrow, so..." I shrugged.

"That's perfect!" He replied, completely missing my refusal "So you know about the lab already? And the experiments?"

"Not really... Uh... Trevor does!"

"They're restoring fossils there. The chief scientist invited me to write a paper on the fossils found, and they've set me a temporary office on the second floor of the building. You see, I should return in two hours at best – there is something I hope to finish by tomorrow, when I'll leave early in the morning to return to Lumiose. It would be delightful if you could accompany me: I would give you a walk through my research and you can have something to talk about with Trevor, what do you say?"

"Uhm..."

"You mustn't worry about the time – I will pay for your transportation back and guarantee that you'll be safely delivered to your friends by sunset!"

"I'm afraid I can't..." I despondently began "'I promised Calem I would meet him at the beach so we could train. He will be waiting for me."

"Ugh! That's such a pity..." He looked away and scratched his chin, thinking "Although you could tell him you have some catching up to do in filling your pokedex and won't be meeting them till later today."

I frowned, and my reaction prompted Sycamore to explain himself better:

"I'm not asking you to lie, nothing of the sort... I might have a surprise for you at the lab that will help with your pokedex."

An already triumphant smile stretched across his face, assuming, like he did before, that he had covered all the angles and my answer could only be yes.

"I guess I could..." I started wondering with hesitation.

"Then pray, do! I feel I have failed to entertain you so far, and deeply hope that science, my old friend, won't disappoint me, when all others have!"

I smiled shyly.

"So... shall we go?"

Again, there it was: His large hand waiting for mine.

I took the last sip from my mug and with a heavy, still unsure sigh, and agreed to follow him.