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Flying at night was one of the few pleasures that Mewtwo - or as he sometimes referred to himself when he was in the mood to believe that he needed a name that didn't mark him as the clone of another Legendary, Havard - allowed himself outside of reading and running experiments in his home.

The moon was large and bright tonight, which made the water far below him glint with a dull silver. The clouds that kept his form hidden from the moonlight were tinted silver as well, and it gave the silent pokemon one of the few-and-far-between moments of pure happiness that he allowed himself.

At last, though, he became aware of a presence down on the beach, a young pokemon. A... shiny Chikorita? What was he or she doing down there?

Interest piqued, Havard went down for a look, but not directly into the grass-type's line of sight. No, the tiny bit of himself that was recognizably related to a Mew (the one that he would never, ever admit existed under any circumstances), led him to effectively conceal himself from the little pokemon's senses, observing his play for a long moment before he spoke up.

'What are you looking for?'

Treasure? Well, this was a curious young one, Havard would give him that. 'Where will you keep what you find? If you keep it with you, it will eventually get taken again.' Not that there was much of value to be found on a beach, but the Mewtwo felt like the Chikorita should be prepared for what might come.

A ghost indeed; if he had needed any proof of the plant-type's youthfulness he had just found it. But the small shiny seemed thrilled with the idea, so perhaps he could indulge him for a little bit longer... keeping the illusion of nonexistence in place, the Mewtwo's eyes lit up as he exercised his power to bring some of the cloud vapor down from the sky, keeping it from dissipating or spreading and allowing it to swirl around the Chikorita like a living thing. 'Perhaps I could help you find treasure, if you tell me what kind you're looking for...'

'Very well, then,' the 'ghost' said, trying not to let amusement invade his mental voice - fortunately he was rather good at that. 'Then perhaps you would be better off starting your search... here,' he said, floating the cloud off over to the opposite end of the beach.

'And work your way to the other end. Check away from the water line, if you want to find treasures that would be damaged by being wet, and near the waterline if you'd prefer to find the treasures that wash up on shore.'

Was the Mewtwo enjoying himself with this? Well, yes... it wasn't like the little Chikorita knew what he was, after all, and thus his identity was completely safe. And maybe the full moon was getting to him; that was always a possibility as well.

'I do,' Havard said, leaning back against a rock at the other end of the beach, while his cloud-ghost continued to hover around the Chikorita that was now known as Hazan. 'But I'll only tell you what it is once you've found enough treasures.'

There. It wasn't stalling, not exactly, but it was still going to buy him time while he debated whether or not to tell Hazan who and what he really was. This was a pokemon with a trainer, after all, no matter how young and generally nice-tempered he seemed to be, that still made him a threat.

Perhaps he'd just wipe the memory of meeting him out of the grass-type's mind...

Really, if the Mewtwo was going to tell Hazan his name in any form, it would only take about two or three treasures. But in the meantime he still had to figure out what to do. Sure, the young pokemon thought that he had made a friend here, but the Chikorita also thought that he was talking with a ghost.

He could leave right now and the grass-type would never even know he'd been here... Just like many others that he had been intrigued enough by to spend time around.

It was a sobering thought, and one that caused the psychic's eyes to darken and the misty cloud to disperse.

You'd have to have a heart made of stone to not feel sympathy for the tiny pokemon and his offering of friendship. As much as Havard liked to think he had such a thing, he didn't, and he was secretly moved very deeply by the baby Chikorita's plight.

A shake of his head and a soundless sigh later (for the Mewtwo could make a vocal sound if he had wanted to, which left him rather grateful for his telepathy), the pretty shell floated up in front of Hazan's eyes and moved in a lazy pattern down the beach - towards the Mewtwo, although Hazan couldn't know that.

'Calm down, small one. I haven't left yet,' he said as he made the shell float around lazily. 'You did nothing wrong... and I apologize for deceiving you.' He didn't explain his apology - the grass type would see what he meant, soon enough.

'One day you'll learn not to give your trust so easily," Havard said thoughtfully, continuing to draw the shell slowly toward him. 'I wish for that day to be long in coming,' he added, staring at Hazan intently.

'You have nothing to apologize for, aside from your innocence. I assure you, that is nothing to be ashamed of.

Once the shell had moved close enough, Havard let it fall into his hand and clasped it, at the same time removing his subtle perception-filter from the Chikorita's mind. It was a conscious decision, a choice to risk exposing himself to this genuinely trusting grass-type. If things went badly, well, there was still the option of memory erasure, although the Mewtwo wasn't exactly looking forward to that possible outcome.

There was also the -extremely small- possibility that the smaller pokemon wouldn't react badly, but Havard was hardly willing to let himself entertain that sort of thought. It was entirely too hopeful for a pessimist like him.