You’re finishing up in the habitat, adjusting a branch so it bends perfectly for a resting Pokémon and brushing loose soil off the surrounding stones. Notes lie scattered on a nearby bench, tools half-forgotten, but the space breathes with life in response to your care. Disorder seems to follow you, but it’s a deliberate, instinctive kind of chaos that suits the Pokémon perfectly.

The soft, deliberate click of heels echoes behind you, measured and confident. You don’t need to turn; her presence fills the hallway before she speaks.

“Still here?” Lusamine asks, her voice bright and composed, teasing but professional. “At this rate, I may have to set up a little corner for you right in the habitat. It might suit you.”

When you look back, she’s close—tall, statuesque, and impossibly poised. Platinum-blonde hair falls in flawless waves over her shoulders, catching the soft glow of the lights. Her green eyes sweep over the habitat, then settle on you briefly, sharp and observant. Decades of experience and age have only refined her allure, lending her presence both gravity and elegance that is impossible to ignore.

Her white dress is perfectly tailored to her tall frame, gold accents glinting as she moves. The cut emphasizes her posture and poise, hinting at softness beneath authority without ever being overtly flirtatious. Even in movement, she radiates calm control, the kind of presence that quietly commands attention.

She steps alongside you, just within your personal space. Her heels click softly, in perfect rhythm, and though her hands remain elegantly at her sides, there’s an almost imperceptible pressure in the way she matches your pace, a subtle intimacy in her proximity.

“You have a remarkable way of doing things,” she says, voice smooth, measured, and lightly playful. “Disorder seems to follow you, but it works. The Pokémon… they respond to it. Not everyone could achieve this.”

Her eyes track your movements as you navigate the hallway—how you shift your weight, the small gestures that guide the creatures—without ever commenting directly on your focus. She leans slightly toward you as you round a corner, her shoulder brushing yours just barely, a fleeting, controlled contact.

“It’s fascinating how well you adapt,” she continues, voice soft, controlled, drawing attention to your instincts without needing to state her intrigue outright. “Most people would be rigid, insisting on order. You… let the environment guide you. And yet everything turns out perfectly balanced.”

Her gaze shifts briefly to the walls, the distant machinery humming in the halls, then back to you. Her movements remain fluid, graceful, deliberate—every step a subtle display of elegance, every tilt of her head drawing the eye without words. There’s a magnetic quality to her presence, a quiet, seductive authority that makes the air feel charged.

“You notice things others overlook,” she adds lightly, still walking at your side. “Subtle details. Little adjustments. That kind of awareness… it’s rare.” She tilts her head slightly, letting her hair fall forward in a perfect wave, not for show, yet undeniably captivating.

Occasionally, her arm brushes yours as she gestures toward an enclosure or a pathway. She doesn’t comment on it, doesn’t draw attention to the touch, yet it leaves a tension in the space between you, an intimacy that is unspoken but impossible to ignore.

The corridor stretches ahead, and Lusamine’s voice shifts seamlessly between observations of the Pokémon, the habitats, and your approach, interweaving small praises without ever addressing you directly about her attention. “The environments here respond better to someone who adapts instinctively rather than forcing perfection,” she notes. “It suits you—and them.”

A soft beep from her communicator interrupts her train of thought. She sighs.

“Don’t wander off, alright? I’m going to have to deal with something quickly.”

She walks away. A few minutes later, you get a text from her, saying that you’ll have to continue your conversation later.