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Ahh, it was going to rain. He hadn't really planned for that; maybe he needed to start watching the forecast or something... A dull buzz pulled Luke's thoughts from the matter of the weather and to the received message. He frowned, typing out a reply to the music of thunder.

Like hell.

As if that b*****d - it was pretty obvious who the sender was event with the identification masked - could just send a message and demand conversation whenever he wanted. Luke had his own things that he wanted to confirm, but not at the expense of being at Asch's beck and call. The screen of the device was suddenly blurred by a large raindrop, and more followed soon after, catching the trainer in an outright downpour. He uttered a short curse and evaluated his surroundings - the outer bounds of Camphoreon's suburban area wasn't the best place to try and find shelter that didn't involve trespassing - pinpointed a structure a short ways towards the nearby forest, and made a dash for it in hopes it would be something worthwhile. Those hopes panned out; though it was overgrown, poorly maintained, and in all likelihood perfectly abandoned, the building proved to be a small chapel that would suffice as a means of staying out of the maelstrom until the storm let up. Sighing, Luke advanced into the dim chamber and shed his already soaked jacket, draping it over one of the pews to dry.

Luke started at the sudden crash from the other end of the building, blinking in a bewilderment that changed into a scowl as recognition set in. Yeah, that pretty much figured. Being in the same place as Asch didn't bind him into speaking with his brother, though, and turned indignantly. It wasn't as though turning his back would hide his identity or anything, but at the very least it could deliver the message that he had been quite serious about not wanting to talk. Unfortunately it wasn't really plausible to just leave; the driving rain obscured even the church's windows, and it wasn't exactly safe to go wandering around in that kind of lightning. Whatever. He'd think about what to do with the situation once it became problematic.

He leaned against the back of one of the pews beside where his jacket was airing, staring at the noisy torrent that beat against the window. He scoffed lightly at Asch's words, shrugging with mild disdain, "Oh, sorry, would insulting you and calling you names be a more mature response?" What ever happened to 'if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all'?

He glanced over his shoulder, a sidelong glare that almost could have been called venomous; the gentle, optimistic child he usually characterized was missing from those eyes. "Maybe I'm just tired of you constantly talking to me like I'm garbage. I don't think that's such a problem." He wasn't really in the mood to control his temper for Asch's sake. In fact, he sort of doubted that was a mood that actually existed in any more than a theoretical sense.

"If anyone here is garbage, I think you're the one that fits the bill," he said, his tone scathing. "A criminal, a member of a criminal organization, and a regular jerk who goes around insulting people because of personal problems from eight years ago." He turned to face Asch, raising his volume slightly and clenching his hands into fists, "Let me tell you something. No matter how much you blame me, it's not my fault you're a horrible person. That's all on you."

He spread his arms entreatingly, speaking as though he was voicing a challenge, "How am I so blind and naive, then? What aren't I seeing? Do you think our parents' decision gives you the right to go around hurting people? How do you think I felt finding out that my own parents have been lying to me as long as I can remember? That I don't even know my own damn name? You see me using that as an excuse to justify running around with a bunch of criminals and being nasty to people?"

This wasn't really the issue; Luke had given up caring what Asch thought of him long ago, given that it was obvious nothing would change his impression, but now that he had started talking his words wouldn't stop. He wasn't interested in a screaming contest in the least, but damned if he was going to put up with someone standing there talking down to him for no reason.

His tone dropped suddenly to one of incredulity, "You think I don't know that? What the hell do I have to do before you stop talking to me like I'm still not allowed out of the manor? My friends have been hurt and had their most important things stolen over and over. People have died. Do you just think that the fact I haven't been through Rocket hazing or whatever makes me ignorant?" He tensed slightly. "People are cruel. Our parents are cruel. Team Rocket is cruel. I don't have to have someone try to slit my throat to know that. You think you're perfect or something? You're so absorbed in your own little world that you can't understand anyone who sees things differently from you."