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Lucas made a similar connection as thoughts of his firearm projects came to mind; it had been a while ago that he had told Isadora he would make a handgun for her, and was indeed quite close to being thoroughly and completely finished with it. Assuming she would catch the direction of the topic, he said as much, "I'm about done with your thing, by the way. Needs a good polishing, but that's all that's left." Unlike the psychologist, Lucas felt no special need to conceal the subject, though his habitual manner of speech did so nonetheless. Perhaps he should have had a bit more sensitivity about the topic, but it seemed to him that a gun craftsman was no different from a shoemaker or a baker.

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied with a shrug on the matter of clothing. He wasn't particularly a fan of shopping for clothes, but it was something that needed to be done - a necessary evil, as the saying went.

"Really," he assured laughingly. "Hope it meets your expectations. It was the first time I worked with decorative details, so..." So he wasn't terribly confident in the quality of his work, despite the fact that he had redone the grip three times. That was probably a large part of the reason it had taken so long, so he hoped Isadora was happy with it.

At mention of the Growlithe, Lucas hummed thoughtfully. "Dunno... I found him in this city, so he should be at least a little familiar with it. Enough to not get lost, anyhow..." He glanced around in search of some sign of the fire-type with the faintest hints concern. Should he call for him? It seemed he'd had plenty of time to get rather far from them, though...

"Huh, all right then." Well, there was the store. But then where was Fetch? Lucas lingered a ways behind momentarily, watching the streets for some sign of the fire-type. Frowning, he pulled a second pokeball from his collection, and a dreary-colored Chimecho appeared beside him. "Merry, Fetch went looking for one of these stores," he pointed to the store in question, "in that direction," he pointed opposite from whence they had come. "Could you track him down for me?"

Merry chimed disapprovingly, setting her stubby arms on her non-existent hips. "What? It's not like I'm going to be by myself," her trainer argued, mildly offended. "I've got Snow and Lissy and the others, and I'm not even here by myself in the first place," a gesture indicated the departing form of Isadora. Oh, departing. "Look, I'm counting on you, all right? I'll be in here when you find him." Without allowing the Chimecho a chance to disagree any further, he moved to catch up with the psychologist.

Merry sighed. She couldn't really argue with his reasoning, but it still worried her to let him wander off... Oh well. Apparently Fetch had gotten lost, so that was the larger concern at the moment. The psychic-type took off in search of her ally.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," he agreed with a nod. Merry was after him, after all. She wouldn't stop until she had him at her figurative heel.

He entered the shop with a mild wariness. Smells like flowers and full of women - an accurate appraisal of the shop indeed. Lucas could almost feel the cashiers' judgment against either his character or his circumstances, possibly both. He wasn't so frail as to fear his masculinity damaged just by setting foot in a store, though. The larger concern with his presence in the store was the bitter nostalgia that resulted.

I really like these sheets. Do you like these sheets? I like them a lot.

He had sighed, smiling. You want me to buy the sheets?

She had smiled in return. He'd thought she was being coy. A slight irritation worked its way to his expression at the memory, but he made no other outward signs of displeasure as he followed at Isadora's side.

It probably shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did, considering the events plaguing his memory were from ten years prior, but it bothered him nonetheless. He wandered near Isadora as she flitted from place to place, watching idly and failing to keep himself from projecting the past onto the present. Thus, when she held the bottle to him, he took it absently, barely registering the scent before listlessly offering, "You want me to buy it? Ah--" He surprised himself with his own words, snapping himself out of his trance-like lethargy. "Sorry, uh... force of habit. I mean, I can buy it if you want," because now that he had said as much, it would be rude to retract it, "but I mean, if you think it'd be weird or something... I mean, no pressure or..." Now he was just fumbling.

A hand crept up to the back of his neck in nervous habit, an awkward semi-grin accompanying his reply, "Yeah, I know... Sorry." Well, that was enough of a cold slap of embarrassment to drag him back into current events. He was more attentive when she returned to shopping, careful not to fall back into that same half-dreaming state that had encouraged the slip-up in the first place.

Though his experience with this sort of store was severely limited, Lucas noted that Isadora had selected quite a bit less than he perceived the average shopper to purchase. Not that he would complain or anything; it was just sort of refreshing to see some restraint in an environment where it wasn't usually practiced. Or maybe his observations were skewed and the amount of shopping that went on in these stores didn't necessitate the same amount of buying. Well, that was a deep thesis to develop in his free time, if he ever felt so inclined. He probably wouldn't.

"All right," he said, following as she went. There wasn't anything he had seen that was particularly of interest, so he was content to simply stand nearby and raise his eyebrows at the... interesting array of 'as-seen-on-TV' items collected near the register.