That is indeed a 13 year old serving you alcohol [Marie]

The small barista didn't bother looking up from the glass until the sound of a stool scrapping against the wooden floors informed him he had an actual client and not just someone seeking to escape the cold.

Looking up, his eyes scanned the young woman across from him, his nodding at she placed her order. Her voice was commanding in tone, though she appeared meek, with her short stature and pale complexion.

He he didn't exactly have grounds to judge anyone based on height, though. He could appreciate a client that knew what they wanted. Cut the time wasting short.

"Understood. It should be ready within 20 minutes." He informed her as he began to move about behind the counter, which hid most the cooking utensils behind it, the rest of the tools visible behind the boy.

As he began washing the leeks, the boy shifted his gaze back to the woman. A fur coat was not exactly common apparel, even in a City as Cold as Nair. Was he looking at the high class? Maybe? Maybe not? Probably not. 

Those kind of people wouldn't come to a bar, no matter the place or the quality. Or so he believed anyways.

Cooking leek Soup was not a particularly engaging task; unlike some of the more interesting dishes he had made at his father's diner, it was a fairly simple dish that didn't require much thought for him. In short; he was bored. And when he was bored, well... He talked.

Hopefully the woman across from him was in a chatty mood.

"You don't look like the kind to frequent bars often, ma'am." He commented idly as grasped the now cleaned leeks and moved them to the cutting table and pulled out a small briefcase, opening it up to reveal a set of sharpened, glistening cooking knives.

His own, naturally. He wouldn't touch another chef's knives. That would be rude.

"You are not from Nair City, I take it?" He asked as he began cutting the leeks to tiny pieces swiftly, the sound of the knife hitting the wooden board akin to a Pipikek's beak on wood.

Most people from the city could make do with a light jacket. They would probably even sweat with such a thick coat on them. Doug was most certainly not capable of that; he just carried around his Larvesta when he needed to walk out of the bar.

---

If the boy was at all affected by the woman's less than charming rebuff, he did not show it, his knife not slowing down in the slightest, his expression simply shifting to him tilting a thin brow.

He was all too used to his best friend's dry, less than inviting personality to let himself take it to heart.

"I gathered. I'm not worried, just bored." He assured the vulpine pokemon offhandedly as he lifted the cutting table and swiped the chopped up leeks into a heating pot, setting the wooden board down before picking up a couple of potatoes, making swift work out of their peels with one of his finer knives.

Before he traveled around Stellara for a couple of months, a talking pokemon would have made his day. Nowadays it just meant he was about to be chatted to by what was likely to be a memorable character.

"Story? Just a substitute chef. The regular is sick, and they needed a sub. I needed the cash, and I was the best, naturally, so I got the job." He dared say he was better than the regular chef as well. 

But he had no interest in working for anyone other than his father, so when he was inevitably asked to just keep the job, he would have to say 'no thanks', take his cash, and leave.

"It's routine for me by now. Gotta make cash somehow. It slows down my progress, but eh. I'll get where I want to eventually." He wasn't the most patient person on Earth, but he had enough self confidence to believe he would truly get where he wanted eventually.

He rolled his gaze back to the Zorua and the woman as he began chopping off the potatos into tiny pieces. 

"That's about the short version of it. Up for sharing something in turn?" Probably not, but may as well ask.

---

"Douglas. Friends call me Doug, mom calls me William when angry." He answered casually as he raised the wooden board and swiped the chopped potatoes into the stewing pot. "And you two?"

He wasn't expecting much of an answer. By now it was beginning to become clear that they didn't intend on sharing much about themselves. Why, he could only guess. She looked wealthy and high class for sure. Maybe she was actually a celebrity?

Probably not, he couldn't imagine such a person in a middle class bar. Then again, maybe hat was the genius behind it.

"Somehow," He started, tilting a thin eyebrow in response to their seemingly self deprecating views on themselves. "I doubt that, but if you say so." He shrugged his shoulders, grasping a lot of vegetables and beginning the process of washing them, his gaze moving back to them swiftly after.

"Well, even if you've no interesting backstory," A likely story. "I like to think a person's goals says far more about them than the circumstances of their birth." He almost bit his tongue saying that; he was somewhat proud he had managed to say it all without stumbling on his tongue.

"So, what's your goals?" He asked, before grinning as he set the vegetables onto the cutting board, his eyes half lidded as he began chopping them to tiny pieces with practiced ease. "I guess I should probably share before asking anything. Me? I've much I want to do. I want to become a Master at my Mom's Dojo. I want to become as great a Chef as Dad." 

He paused after those words left him, his knife coming to a halt as well. He seemed a tad more sober as he spoke next. 

"And," He smiled, closing his eyes."I Will become Stellara's Pokemon League Champion." 

His eyes opened once again as he went back to the chopping board, swiping the cleaved veggies into the steaming pot before moving to the spice rack, humming as he began picking a few of them.

"So. What about you? Any big goals and dreams?" 

---

The boy stared at her in astonished silence for a moment, his knife paused as he digested her identity for a second.

"... Scion of the what now?" Not that her identity meant anything for him, mind you. He didn't know anything about business or politics that didn't immediately affect his household. As his parents business were both small and family run, he had never really heard of the Nuada family.

Or more likely, had not been paying attention the few times it was brought up in conversation around him.

He wasn't completely clueless however; after a few seconds to process the information, he managed to more or less deduct a few things.

"Oh, you are a heir then?" Well, that scratched celebrity off. She was just rich. Why she felt she needed to hide this fact escaped the boy entirely, but then, he didn't know much  about anything, clearly.

The boy paused his chatter for a second in order to spice things up on the soup, quite literally, the dropplets of spices falling into the stewing pot before he placed the lid right on top of it, humming before grasping a timer clock and wringing it back, setting it down for 15 minutes.

He then turned his gaze towards the other two.

"So..." He tiled cocked his head to the side slightly. "You want to become the pokemon champion as well?" He asked her simply.

She looked like a trainer. She said she wanted to be as strong as she could be. Any trainer had the capacity to become champion. Ergo, she must have wanted to become the Champion as well.

---

"I don't mind." Responded the boy. He didn't seem terribly affected by the Zorua's unexpected outburst, simply tilting an eyebrow while washing his knives in response. He seemed to do that a lot.

He didn't feel he needed anyone's forgiveness just because he hadn't heard of their family, but he supposed he should just be happy with the fact that she hadn't taken offense from it.

"Considered, huh? You may want to decide soon. " He said as he wiped the wetness off the knives with a clean handkerchief, his eyes narrowing at the blades slightly as he spoke. "If you don't get there first, someone else will."

Him, as a matter of fact. He would become Champion, and any other conclusion to his journey was unacceptable to him. That said, that didn't mean that he wouldn't encourage anyone he met to try as well.

Competition was always a good way to keep oneself sharp. His relationship with his best friend was all the proof he needed.

"Your soup is ready." He said immediately after placing his knives with their case, turning down the fire beneath the pot to a lower flame before grasping a bowl and a ladle, serving the wealthy woman a large helping of the soup before gently setting the bowl in front of her.

He reached behind the counter and produced a spoon wrapped in a clean handkerchief, setting it alongside the bowl. "Dinner's served. Enjoy." There was no doubt in him that she would enjoy the meal; his body language exuded confidence and pride.

Throughout the entire chat he had moved with the ease and grace of a chef that had served a thousand meals before. That number would have been inaccurate though; he was pretty sure he had served far more by now.

---

"I know, but thanks." Was the boy's cocksure reply to the compliment as he leaned against the counter, laying his elbow on top of it and his head on top of the back of his hand.

He allowed her to eat in silence, having nothing else to do since he had already washed the utensils and cutlery he had used while cooking.

"Would you like a drink with that?" He asked her a few minutes later, hoping she would say yes. Not because he needed to sell more or anything; he just wanted something to do. 

Chatting kept him distracted from how boring the job could be. The bar saw most of its business during mornings and afternoons.
Sadly, this left the evening and the night shift rather dull.

He knew better than to distract the client from their meal by trying to strike conversation incessantly, however. 

He couldn't ignore the client if they chose to speak to him though, and the Zorua was her pokemon so he was technically a client. 

That said, how did he answer that? The answer was, naturally, a tad personal. The boy hummed as he thought about his answer, before deciding to be honest, if not entirely open about it.

"I've got something to prove to myself." He said enigmatically, his gaze not so much looking at the Lady and her Zorua as it was seemingly lost in the horizon.

He waited until the Lady had finished her soup before he asked.

"Say. Why did you choose to become a Pokemon Trainer, ma'am?" He asked leaning his head on his fist.

---