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Never mind that he was new. Blake knew that he wouldn't earn any respect holed up in his room, and despite how nervous he felt, he was determined to make a presence of himself. That brisk way he wandered around HQ? He wasn't lost, in fact he did have somewhere to go, thanks. The way his wide, blue eyes darted all around from behind his glasses? No, he wasn't scared, he was just... scoping out the area!

The recreation room. Blake figured that would be a good spot to run into some fellow Rockets. Somewhere casual, no pressure... But he found himself straightening up and looking his uniform over just the same. And with a final adjustment of his glasses, Blake strutted in--

--only to walk in on something that completely made the Grunt lose his composure. It wasn't immediate, of course. He had to pause, frozen for a moment there, to register what he was seeing. The paper scattered about, the crayons in disarray, and, of course, the monster behind it all...

With a look of absolute astonishment on his face, Blake threw his hands up in the air, indignantly wailing, "What are you doing?!"

He hadn't really meant to blow up like that, having realized right after that it was just a dumb Pokemon that probably didn't even know what he was saying... but Blake couldn't help but flinch when the Drifblim replied. Lord, these Pokemon just got creepier and creepier. Glaring at the travesty the Pokemon held with such sickening pride, Blake cautiously approached, wanting to get a better look at it.

Of course, it still looked like trash. There was no way a Pokemon could even come close to the skill a human artist possessed. Blake decided he'd take it upon himself to show the poor, inferior creature, heaving a patronizing sigh. This was middle school all over again!

"I don't even know what that's supposed to be, but it's making me sick just looking at it," in the back of his mind, the Grunt wondered why he was even bothering to try to reason with this Pokemon, but the sight of the art supplies strewn around... he couldn't help himself. Blake knelt to collect some for himself, wondering what he could use for a base as he continued, "This is a rare chance, you'll be learning from a master!"

Blake loved an audience, and was satisfied to see that the Drifblim knew its place... though he edged away from the Pokemon anyway, still finding himself somewhat disturbed by it. Now having gathered a good amount of paper, Blake stood, reaching for the single ball at his belt with his free hand.

"First, we'll need a base for our project. We'll have to make a mold to build off of, so we don't end up with a poorly thought-out mess," Blake glanced back scornfully at Newton's discarded project, then continued, "In this case, Goliath will be modeling. Now he won't be completely useless."

With that, the Grunt sent out his Aron, who immediately hopped with elation at the sight of his trainer. Blake ignored this, continuing with his calm instructions, seemingly talking more to himself than to Newton. "Our first project will be a mask for Goliath. Something intimidating, to make him look less pathetic."

The Aron look very visibly hurt by this, ceasing his hopping and looking up with sad blue eyes. But Blake took no notice, finally turning to look at the Drifblim again. Taking half of the papers from the small stack in his hand, Blake cautiously offered them to Newton, eyeing the balloon's arms warily and wondering if it was even getting any of this. His voice was a bit more flat with skepticism now. "We'll be tearing these papers into strips, then covering them with paste to apply to Goliath's huge head. Got it?"

Insolence! Blake glared back at the Drifblim, though the longer it stared... the more he felt his annoyance fading into apprehension. Could Pokemon smell fear? "Alright, good," he finally turned away, trying not to shudder. Goliath, sensing his trainer's unease, stared up at Newton and gave a concerned whimper. "Aron...?"

"Quiet, Goliath," Blake frowned down at his lousy Pokemon, starting to rip his own stack now (though nowhere near as fast as Newton), "And stay still." His Aron's worry did little to ease his paranoia, in fact made him feel silly... and all too aware of how weak his Pokemon must be, compared to this Drifblim.

But that was just even more motivation to get this fierce mask done! Blake knelt in front of his Aron, set down his papers, and reached for the glue... then hesitated. It would probably look bad to have glue on his gloves. So, as much as Blake hated getting anything on his hands, he took his gloves off, always one to suffer for his art. Never mind that Goliath might not like glue on his face...

"Put glue on each side of the strip, and make sure to smooth it out! Don't mess this up," Blake huffed, demonstrating for Newton. As much as Goliath wanted to please his trainer, he gave a small whine as Blake glued paper to his face. Goliath didn't want a mask! Did he really have to change to make his trainer happy?!

Well, that worked. As much as he hated to admit it, Blake was actually somewhat impressed by how quickly the Drifblim worked... But also, again, annoyed. He was being upstaged by a Pokemon! Grudgingly (and a bit timidly), Blake took the glue-covered strips from Newton and smoothed them onto Goliath.

"Alright, after we're done with the first layer," Goliath winced as paper began to appear around his eyes, "we'll have to let it dry. Then we can start to build the features, add a few more layers..." Blake backed up and paused for a moment, eyeing the whimpering Aron with a critical eye. "...Yeah. I think we should build some horns."

Using some excess paper to wipe the glue off of his fingers, Blake stood and addressed Newton as he studied Goliath. "We need cardboard, or some kind of a base to start making the features with. Where..." The Grunt trailed off, turning to stare at Newton. This Drifblim, who was obviously very familiar with the base. This Drifblim, who obviously had a trainer.

Blake was suddenly very aware of how much time they had wasted, how stupid this all must have looked, and good lord his paranoia kicked into high gear as his eyes darted all around the rec room. All thoughts of a shogun Aron left his mind as Blake feared any minute now a superior was going to walk in and demand to know what this foolishness was.

"You. Balloon. Where, uh, where's your trainer?" Quickly snatching his gloves off the ground, Blake wondered how he was ever going to clean this mess before anyone showed up probably any second now. "Do you, um, have anywhere you might need to be..?"

"Forget the horns!" Blake snapped, glowering at Newton, as though the silly gesture was a personal affront. Granted, he had to admire this Pokemon's enthusiasm, but it was useless otherwise. Exasperated, Blake slipped his gloves back on and wondered if he could just ditch the balloon with this mess and deny ever playing with paper mache.

Turning to flee, Blake was instead stopped dead in his tracks by, just his luck, an agent. And a lady one, at that. The lowly Grunt's first instinct was to swipe his hat right off his head, revealing his messy black hair, and straighten up--was there a salute he was forgetting?! He choked back the urge to proclaim the cliche I can explain!, figuring it was better to wait until he was addressed before speaking--and, daring to steal a glance, it looked like the Drifblim--Newton, she said? was the one being addressed. Not that that made him feel better, lord, Blake hoped she hadn't heard him snap at it just seconds earlier.

Twisting his cap nervously in his hands, Blake looked everywhere but at Nyx now, his wide blue eyes finally settling on his Aron, covered in paper and glue, wobbling feebly towards him. Stupid! He forgot! Panicked, the Grunt tried kicking Goliath away, only earning an indignant squeal from the Pokemon and a very, very badly stubbed toe. Hunched over in pain, biting his lip to keep from crying out and screwing his eyes shut from behind his glasses, Blake could only think one (coherent, aside from the cursing) thing:

Arceus... was that what his peers had said? Arceus kill me now.

At being directly addressed, Blake tried to regain is composure as well as he could, only barely wincing when he put his injured foot down. Hearing Goliath snuffle dejectedly at his side, the Grunt wanted to turn around and kick him again anyway, but instead ignored the beast and finally looked directly (though subserviently!) at Nyx.

She seemed awfully casual for an Agent. Amiable, even. But she was still a superior and Blake didn't want to blow this. So, deciding that his friendly-but-foolish persona was his best bet, the Grunt put on a sheepish smile. He liked to think that the way he continued to twist his hat in his hands was only half-genuine anxiety.

"Well, ehehe, I guess I contributed a bit... I walked in and saw this clever Pokemon playing with paper mache, how could I resist? Of course, if you'd like for me to clean this mess up, it's no trouble at all, ma'am..."