pkemeter | Victory Road IC Inbox

[Egon, for once in the last few days, is no longer thinking about the feud he has with Ford. Thank God. It's still somewhere in the back of his mind, but at least now he's not spending hours on end writing up battle plans and algorithms to determine the best possible strategy to use on Ford's Pokémon.

He's propped up his rod against the side of the boat, keeping it from slipping by placing it between a cooler and the wall. Fishing takes a backseat when it comes to dropping plastic jars tied with twine into the ocean and scooping it back up to study all the little plankton that swirl around in it. A lot of the equipment he's brought has been safely tucked away into his backpack, out of reach of the ocean.]

Very good. I have a good understanding of the oceanography of the area surrounding this island, now, as well as the average salinity.

[He sounds almost cheerful, if you ignore the overall flatness of his tone.]

Caught anything, yet?

[A smile tugs at his lips hearing the enthusiasm, however slight, in Egon's voice.]

Nah... Haven't been catching anything living, at least. [He shrugs his shoulders, gesturing towards a modest bucket with a towel stuffed inside that he's using for makeshift storage of the miscellaneous assorted "treasures" of Treasure Beach that haven't yet washed up onto the shore. So far, his collection consists of a waterlogged wristwatch and a sandal with seaweed strands strewn through the strap.] ...but that won't stop me from trying. Fishing's a sport all about patience.

[Winston turns his eyes back over the side of the boat, studying the swaying of the line as it plays on the surface of the sea, waiting for a tug or twitch that could indicate any sign of life beneath it.]

...I remember I used to think it was nothing but a big slog as a kid, but that's probably because I didn't have any say over when my old man dragged me out for it. Lot more bearable now.

[Egon nods carefully, looking thoughtful. After a moment or two, he says in his monotone voice--]

Many activities in which parents deem to be educational or beneficial towards their children tend to be attempts at engaging the child in "bonding activities" that pertain more towards the parents' interests rather than the child's.

[He pauses for a moment to adjust one of his devices, frowning lightly.]

My parents never brought us fishing. We did go seining once, however. [A beat.] It was to collect various clam specimens to gauge the current ecosystem in the local lake.

[The Spenglers didn't exactly encourage things like "fun". Maybe if they had done a little more research about humans and less about pure science, they would've known that children require regular stimulation and positive physical contact.]

[Winston grips the handle of the fishing rod tighter, crossing his thumbs one on top of the other while he lets Egon's words sink in.] You're probably right about that. But I wouldn't say it was much of an interest, even for him. It was just... the only father-son activity he'd bother doing- as some token not-really apology whenever he crossed the line with me. [He takes a breath in, as if to brace himself.] ...then when mom left him, he stopped putting in the effort entirely.

[Part of him feels guilty for talking about it- like it's in bad taste to speak badly of somebody behind his back in an entirely different dimension, to a person from a parallel universe to yours who's never met the man (at least as you know him)... but it's probably better of him to push that thought aside and prioritize being open with Egon, if only to let him know they're in the same boat.]

[Winston parts his lips for a moment, readying them to repeat that "same boat" pun out loud to Egon, but he's interrupted by a tug on the line. He reels it in only to find it's yet another sandal with seaweed hanging off of it- possibly a match for the one he already caught before... except that this one's so thoroughly caked in moss and lichen that it's hard to make out the appearance of the actual shoe underneath.]

...you wanna scrape something off of this? [He asks Egon, turning his head back to look at him again.]

Hmmm.

[Egon doesn't offer any other insight to his thoughts. The first idea that passes his mind is if he was back in Columbia, he could conduct a social experiment in which one tests parent-child bonds in relation to how much time the child and parent spent time together. His immediate afterthought is that Venkman would probably admonish him for coming up with such an idea.

Thank God Winston offered another mode of conversation. Egon blinks, leaning over and inspecting the shoe. Carefully, he unhooks it from Winston's fishing rod and plunks it into a slowly-filling bucket of paraphernalia dredged up from the sea.]

You know, I'm hoping to find a sort of microorganism that can be categorized as a Pokémon in this world. My main mode of testing is seeing whether or not it is able to be detected by the PokéBall containment units.

[There's a brief pause as Egon adjusts his glasses to turn his gaze back towards the ocean.]

Hopefully, by taking samples from the sea, we might also be able to find evidence of proto-Pokémon life.

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me, stumbling back into this a week later: how the fuck did i not reply to this for six days

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