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"Ah, I see. I don't generally experience negative emotions. I'm meant to protect against those." For all his quick thinking and proficiency in combat and surveillance, Lucas the Other had the approximate emotional depth of a Beldum. A sleeping Beldum. Maybe even a dead Beldum.

"Thirteen... I suppose that's when I first began to exist." He had to think back on it. It seemed as though it had been ages ago - possibly because it really had been - but he remembered it clearly enough. It was his most closely guarded memory, shoved so far back that even he had begun to forget it. "That's when I killed my father."

"Not quite a robot, I wouldn't say. Program might be somewhat accurate, though." The most accurate and correct response, as he saw it, was guardian. And what did emotions matter as long as he fulfilled the role with which he had been charged? "That's correct. I like to believe that I'm human. The fact that I experience an emotional response from time to time gives me some faith in that belief." The majority of negative emotion that he felt, he found, was fear that he would fail in that role.

"I don't know. It was before I existed." Mere moments before, but still before. "I think the memory might be lost. Either that or it's off-limits to me." He folded his arms across his chest, as if in contemplation. "I don't believe it was malicious, though. The memories he has of his family are treasured."

He raised an eyebrow slightly. "I'm not sure how I would do that. I think things are fine as they are, though. I would worry that a great depth of emotion would interfere with my ability to perform on the field." And, quite honestly, he didn't feel as though he was missing out on much. Confusion, anger, sorrow - they all seemed so incredibly unpleasant. Why would anyone push to acquire such sensations if they could continue to exist without them?

He thought back to the scene he had awakened to, "I suppose that's not impossible, but it may be highly unlikely. From what I could tell, the cause of death was a gunshot wound at point-blank range." Lucas watched as the bird descended and stretched. It was much sturdier than it looked to carry all those weights. Claire's question brought forth the rare and elusive smirk. "Him. I have all of his memories, but he has all of the emotional responses. He's much more attached to the family than I am." Probably because he had never actually met said family.

Her suggestion elicited a slight widening of his smirk, "Ah, so he gets the proper name, does he? I see how it is." Arceus, did he just try and tell a joke? "That's fine with me, if that's what you wish to do."

"Mm..." Lucas - or Luke, apparently - disagreed with her, but he wasn't about to argue it. It wasn't as though he had any idea how tap into his alleged subconscious and de-suppress emotions, anyway. His was a realm of facts and logic, and he had neither access to nor control over much else.

"I'm not sure how it could have been accident." He considered the circumstances momentarily. "...But I suppose it's equally unlikely that it was intentional. It's slightly frustrating. I have complete control over every memory this body stores, except for that single one." It wasn't as though he could do his job any worse for lack of it, though, and so he didn't allow himself to become too irritated over the issue.

He snorted, "I suppose anything I could have come up with would have been just as creative." Not like she would have been able to explain to the easily-confused Lucas why she was suddenly calling him a completely different name anyway.

"I know them in the same way you might learn of events from reading a timeline, or from hearing a nutshell version second-hand. I know the basics of significant milestones and their approximate chronology, but I don't have the specific details. It's a bit strange." This coming from an alter ego who had taken control of the host body to exercise while his other half slept. Crazy was right.

"Oh yes, Leighton. A winner, for sure." He moved his hands to his hips, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. "Well, I suppose it would be rude of me to not find an equally excellent name for you, yes? Something I can call you so you know it's me talking to you." He raised a hand to his chin with a melodramatic 'hmmm.' "What do you think of Engracia, Zuzu, or Fionnuala?"

Luke's subtle smirk spread into an unmistakable grin, and he turned slightly. "Well, Fionnuala," that was actually really hard to pronounce without concentrating on it, "I should probably get back to work." He cast a glance back in the direction of the punching bags and dummies with which he had started, rotating his wrists in anticipation. The slight fatigue from the push-ups had long since faded; he wasn't used to being so completely cooled down so soon after beginning a workout.

He snorted, moving towards the dummies while she thought. He wasn't adverse to continuing their talk, but he also wanted to get a bit more work done. He guessed that he was at least able to hold a conversation while training and began warming up with stretching.

He paused momentarily to raise an eyebrow when he heard mention of Merry, instinctively glancing to the shelf where he had left hers and Snow's pokeballs. "It's... complicated," he replied as he turned to face one of the padded bags, beginning with basic punches. "He doesn't like being responsible for pokemon. He was with Merry for almost ten years before he finally started to get along with her." He adjusted his stance slightly and increased his speed. "He went on a pokemon journey when he was ten. From what I gather, it didn't go very well." A right hook made contact at a poor angle, and he rubbed at his knuckles briefly before resuming.

He continued to step up the pace as he explained, "His starter was a Piplup. He was careless, and it was gravely wounded. He didn't know what to do, so he abandoned and it and went home." That was one of those foggy memories, one that was still there but only barely, persisting only because of the strong emotions attached to it. "It could potentially take him even longer to accept Snow. The Charmander's history said it had been assigned as a starter as well. He's strict with it because he feels that's the best way to keep it safe, but there's no way the Charmander can understand that." Explaining anything deeper than 'do that one move' to a pokemon seemed a daunting task, especially with younger ones like Snow.

He paused momentarily to think about the question, introducing kicks to his patterns when he finally spoke, "I don't have any particular attachments. I had a Metagross that I was rather fond of, but that was mainly for it's efficiency in combat." He scoffed quietly. "Merry doesn't seem to like me much, so I don't work with pokemon much anymore."