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Gwynn doesn’t talk much, and Canari doesn’t mind. She likes to hear the sound of her own voice, after all, and Gwynn likes that too, so it’s mutually beneficial.
But she’s also perceptive. You have to be, as a pro. What lots of people don’t get is that streamers are basically improv actors doing it 24-7. You’ve got to be quick on your feet, read shifts fast. It’s something she likes in Pokémon battles, too.
So she notices that Gwynn’s not just her usual quiet self today, that she’s actually subdued.
“What’s got you down, G-Volt?”
“The Fist of Justice is losing members. Because of…” Gwynn doesn’t have to say it.
“Your brother’s got pretty radical ideas about Wild Zones, huh?”
“They’re ridiculous.”
“What’d you have Quasartico do about it, then?” Canari cleans some gunk out of her ear, rubs it on her pants. “Kick the Pokémon out?”
“I don’t know.”
Canari, admittedly, doesn’t know either. She doesn’t actually leave her house that much; the extent to which her life has been impacted by the Wild Zones begins and ends with the time a Fletchling smacked into her window and interrupted one of her streams.
But she’s also, you know, socially aware. She’s got to be, else she’ll get cancelled, called self-centered, boorish. Never mind that fucking male streamers can get away with murder, never mind that a literal war criminal runs the hotel a few blocks away. One slipup and it’s curtains for Canari.
She tells Gwynn all of this, pretty much exactly like that.
“Was the Fletchling okay?” Gwynn asks, because she’s a fucking saint.
“Yeah, it was fine, gave it a Potion and sent it on its way. But still.” She really ought to move out of Lumiose anyway, try and make it in another region. Unova, maybe.
“It just doesn’t end.” Gwynn pulls her knees to her chest, forlornly lays her head on them. Canari wants to zap the sadness out of her. “There’s no easy fix.”
“‘Course there isn’t.” A pause, a self-deprecating joke. "'Least the constant disasters keep the rent cheap, between this and that Ultimate Weapon fiasco."
“Do you remember it?” Gwynn asks, so soft. Canari blinks. She knows Gwynn and Igor moved here two years ago, doesn’t know much about their lives beyond that.
“Yeah, I was like, eighteen.”
“It was on the news. I just remember thinking…there has to be something wrong. Someone’s supposed to stop this.”
“I mean, they did. Some twelve-year-old. Which is, like, almost embarrassing for me honestly? What were any of us doing when we were twelve? I was curled up on my 3DS, doing jack shit, and there was a fuckin’ middle schooler literally saving the world? Ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous,” Gwynn echoes, so soft.
Canari worries at her lip.
“Freaked us all out pretty bad, too. Obviously nothin’ actually happened, but just knowing it could, knowing there weren’t any guardrails like you said. Gave me the creeps.”
“You don’t seem afraid.”
“I’m not anymore.” A bunch of wild Pokémon outside, a shady company rebuilding the heart of the city. It’s all stuff that doesn’t strictly concern her. Racine Construction’s built out of the toughest steel.
Worst comes to worst, she could always ask Gwynn to stay here. Let the two of them live out the rest of their days in Canari’s room, let Lumiose tumble around them. That’s definitely the sort of thinking that’d get her cancelled, but it’s fine as long as she doesn’t say it.
“Sheesh, this convo’s getting depressing. Seen any good TV lately?”
“I don’t watch television.”
“Yeah, me neither. Too busy gaming.” Canari gestures to the piles and piles of merch around her. “This empire’s a full-time gig, you know?”
Gwynn giggles. Eelektross lets out a screech.
“I’ll give you dinner in a minute,” Canari snipes. Eelektross lets out a dissatisfied warbling noise. “Yeah, love you too.”
“It’s persistent.”
“Your Chandelure isn’t?”
“It doesn’t necessarily…eat, the same way.”
“Huh. Guess not. We really are learning a lot about each other tonight, aren’t we?”
Eelektross screeches again. It used to bite her on the ankle back when it was a Tynamo, a habit it thankfully kicked before evolving, given that nowadays a bite like that would probably cleave her leg in half.
“Here you go, dummy.” Canari pours some kibble in Eelektross’s bowl, scratches it on the slippery head as it digs in. Then she notices Gwynn’s eyes on her, piercing as always, unblinking like an Espurr’s. She knows some people find them creepy, but far be it from her to get why. She likes Canari, offputtingness and all.
“All good, G-Volt?”
“Can I…stay here tonight?”
“‘Course you can. You think I’m running a packed hotel here?” Canari laughs a little at her own joke. “Seriously. I sleep in my chair most of the time anyway, so the bed’s all yours.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, seriously. You can do that whenever, by the by, not just now. I like having you here.”
Gwynn approaches her mattress like it’ll break under her touch.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“I’ve just gotta do one teensy thing and then I’m all yours.” Canari boots up her streaming setup, checks her hair in the monitor, tests one two three in her mic (it won’t do to peak mid-broadcast), waits for the connection to crackle to life.
It’s sort of like a casino, Canari’s room - there’s just one window outside (which nowadays she mostly keeps closed on account of 1) crazed DYN4MO fans 2) the aforementioned Fletchling), no other sign of the days cycling through, the seasons changing. Probably to others that’s lonely or something, but she’s got her grandpa, she’s got Eelektross.
For tonight - only for tonight, she reminds herself, present in the moment - she’s got Gwynn.
“Hey, Canatics!” she chirrups to the screen. “Soooooooo, I’ve gotta bit of an IRL emergency over here, which sadly means tonight’s stream’s gonna have to wait ‘til tomorrow. See ya then!”
Once she’s triple-checked that her setup’s been shut off, Canari flops back in her chair, lets out an exhale. “There. That oughta tide ‘em over.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s seriously no biggie. I needed a break anyway. Plus, an IRL emergency? PokéTwitter’s gonna be crackling for weeks about what’s going on in my life.”
***
Gwynn knows how she’s perceived. She knows how Ivor sees her - responsible, uptight Gwynn, who he’s too nice to admit has a Sudowoodo up her ass. She knows how most Trainers see her - offputting, surly, the black sheep of the Fist of Justice.
But Canari. She doesn’t know how Canari sees her. She wants, badly, to see herself through Canari’s eyes - as someone worth this.
“People love a bit’ve speculation,” Canari continues. It’s funny - much as Canari loves her games and live challenges, the part of livestreaming she seems to like the most is the business part. Dissecting her own fame. It would come off as narcissistic if it was anyone else, but Gwynn just likes seeing that passion. “I keep my personal life on the DL for a reason, y’know? What’s really personal-” and here she gestures to her room, which for the moment at least includes Gwynn “-is mine, but if you’re a personality you can’t just be a nothin’burger.”
Canari talks with her hands; it’s something to make up for the mask, she’s explained before, it’s hypnotic in any case.
“Which is to say,” she finishes grandly, “I don’t care if people think I’ve got beef with Iono or secretly dating Diantha or whatever as long as they’re not getting creepy with it. Let ‘em have their fun.”
“Ah.” It’s not something she’s ever really brought up. “But are you actually…dating…anyone?”
Canari lets out a full-body snort at this.
“G-Volt, y’think I’d be able to hide it from you if I was? I barely leave the house!”
“Of course. Just…asking.” Because there is no easy way to come back from that.
“Point being, there’s no parasocialism without personal tidbits. No parasocialism, no fanbase, no Canatics or DYN4MO members who pay my bills.”
“Right…”
“Besides,” and she must know what she’s doing, squeezing Gwynn’s shoulder like this, pressing into her like a Binacle, “I’ve got my best girl right here!”
Gwynn warbles out a laugh that she hopes sounds at least halfway normal and knows that it doesn’t, at all. Probably sounds more like a legendary Pokémon, something outside the realm of the planet, let alone normalcy.
Canari’s bed is softer than Gwynn’s own; it’s pillowy enough to sink into. Not what she’d expect from someone who lives in the back room of a construction office, who cusses out anyone who crosses her, who is radiant and brilliant and could shock the world if she wanted to. But then again she apparently doesn’t sleep in it much, so maybe it doesn’t matter.
Gwynn lets herself imagine, just for a moment, that Canari bought this bed for her. That she wants this.
“Good for you?”
“Perfect,” Gwynn says, and means it.
***
Canari pops onto her PokéTwitch account in the middle of the night, once she’s sure Gwynn is fast asleep.
“Hey, Canatics,” she whispers, liking the way the computer reflects her face in low light. “Miss me?” And hey, sue her, she lights up a little at all the attention.
Gwynn drools a little when she sleeps. Canari’s tried not to look too close; it could come off as creepy or something and she doesn’t want that. Even though she's Magnemite-like, pulling her in, so brilliant, so small.
“This is gonna be a short one, but I can’t sleep-” again with the personal angle, just a little zing of it, like the static shock you get from touching a light switch after rubbing against a blanket. Fish food. “So I figured, hey! Why not play a couple rounds of Beldum Blocks?”
And she does just that, offering commentary where it’s warranted, calling out the chat when it’s funny.
It’s a living.
***
Gwynn doesn’t technically have a job (unless you count creeping out the Fist of Justice and/or taking care of her brother), so sleeping in isn’t necessarily life-ruining for her.
It surprises her nonetheless, when she cracks open her eyes and notices that the Canari clock next to her head is blinking 11:13.
“‘Mornin’, G-Volt,” the real Canari says, balancing a big sunhat on her head, swishing around a long beige trenchcoat.
“What are you wearing?”
Canari smiles with her eyes. It’s not an exaggeration, Gwynn can’t describe it any other way.
“A disguise.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, you think I get everything PokéDoorDashed here? I do go out sometimes.”
“Oh,” Gwynn repeats, and if she weren’t so sleepy she’d come up with something else to say, something intelligent, something other than I love you.
But she is still sleepy, so she just gets up, follows her outside.
She feels radiant in Canari’s shadow.
“You really think nobody will recognize you like this?”
“Worked for those Kantonian guys. Team Rocket?”
Gwynn does not know as much about foreign mobsters as her friend, so she nods along, believes her.
And sure enough, heads don’t turn, nobody accosts Canari in the street. But even though they don’t know who she is, Gwynn knows the people looking will see her with someone who isn’t her brother.
They stop by the closest café, order two coffees. Canari drinks it black, Gwynn likes to add cream and sugar and things, which Canari teases her for. “What about that spooky aesthetic you got?”
“It doesn’t impact my taste buds,” Gwynn retorts serenely, mixing in the sugar until the coffee smells sweet enough to make her lightheaded.
“Too sweet. Would make me sick.” Canari lifts her mug. “This’ll do.” They sit.
“This is nice.”
Canari pulls down her mask to take a sip of her coffee, hisses at the heat a little. “Eesh.” She blows on it a couple of times, then pulls her mask back up, leans back a bit. She’s not in a hurry. She never really is.
“I just don’t know how you do it,” Gwynn admits. Canari blinks.
“Huh?”
“Just - keeping your cool all the time.”
“HA!” Canari laughs like her grandpa, loud and barking and not cutesy at all, and slams the table when she does. “You think I keep my cool? You ever seen me lose a boss battle or fail a speedrun? I’ve got a fuse as short as the littlest Tynamo.”
“But you’re not worried,” Gwynn stresses. “About…everything.”
“I’ve got my job. My fans. It brings ‘em happiness. It’s not enough - I’m no hero, I’m actually pretty shallow - but it’s something, right?”
“It’s everything.” You’re everything.
Canari laughs. “Now I know you’re just fuckin’ with me, G-Volt. Streaming’s fun. It’s not gonna save the world.”
“You really don’t know how amazing you are.”
“I totally do, I’m just also a little humble about it.” Canari winks and it sends a bolt of heat down to Gwynn’s gut, it feels like being lit from the inside. It must be what Chandelure feels like all the time.
It’s like Mega Evolution - this potential in you, this crackling thing, it’s always been there, it takes such specific circumstances to pull it out.
Gwynn could do anything, right now. She could even kiss her.
But she is, to her core, an unselfish person. She will not burden Canari further than she already has.
So she just laughs, drinks her sweet, sweet drink, breathes in the autumn air. It’ll all come to a head soon.
She holds this moment close.