It didn't take long for Professor Cozmo to arrive, though he managed to do so while the group was in the middle of both their lunch and a discussion about alternate solutions to their mutual problem. Spectra's proposal to sneak in at night interested Irvine, but he could tell all too easily that she wasn't a professional. The logistics of moving six people and however many PokÃ©mon through a single cave entrance, with not a single experienced infiltrator among them, were shaky at best. There was only a single,<span style="font-style: italic">very</span>predictable approach to work with, and no information on what was waiting for them inside. Even with a distraction good enough to get them all through undetected, the ritual site itself was likely to be surrounded by researchers, and he didn't even know where that was or why it was important enough for them to visit. The trained criminals he used to serve would have been searching for other approaches, and he was inclined to agree with them. Slipping through under the cover of darkness was something he could do alone, but it was too risky with so many others.<br/><br/>Oh, yes, and it was also illegal. That was something Jack said he should care about.<br/><br/>The Professor interrupted his train of thoughts rather abruptly by grabbing his wrists in both hands and wildly shaking them up and down, claws and all. Apparently PokÃ©mon - those with arms, at least - were not to be spared from the man's overbearing enthusiasm. Irvine pulled himself free and scrambled away without much difficulty, but the incredulous look on his face went completely ignored. His "attacker" had already moved on as if it were nothing unusual, shaking the hands of everyone else in the group against a backdrop of glaring eyes from trainers who were less than pleased by the trouble his research was inadvertently causing them. Spectra was the first one to break the silence with a greeting, but Jack quickly stepped in to assert that he was, in fact, the student that Cozmo was looking for. Then came the academic banter that the Sneasel had grown dreadfully accustomed to.<br/><br/>"...I want to write a hypothesis into my thesis about why they arenâ€™t native to the area..."<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Perhaps because it was such a boring place.</span><br/><br/>"...Maybe dark-types were a later-stage deviation?"<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Maybe the sun wasn't so horribly bright over in Johto.</span><br/><br/>"...the moonstone meteorite the Clefairy worship had something to do with the origin of the regionâ€™s PokÃ©mon..."<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Not even Geodude were born from rocks, regardless of where those rocks came from.</span><br/><br/>â€œJust a second, professor.â€<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Yes, another second of wasted-</span>Oh.<br/><br/>Kicks had been nervously tugging on Jack's hand to get his attention ever since they had sat down. When he finally gave in and looked down at the Scraggy, it was staring at him and trembling, no doubt afraid of the crowd they were sitting in. The display earned a sympathetic smile from its trainer and a disgusted scowl from Irvine; he hated how<span style="font-style: italic">weak</span>Kicks was, almost as much as he hated knowing just how poor his chances of beating the whimpering creature were. It didn't deserve to have that kind of power if it was going to live either in fear or adoration of everything that moved. Jack recalled Kicks to his ball, but Irvine kept the expression anyways. They were wasting time that could have been better spent in any number of ways.<br/><br/>â€œSorry, well, actually, not really. Kicks is an interesting case; Iâ€™m also really looking into the wild disparities in disposition between species of Dark-Types, just general psychology. We canâ€™t really use psychic types to figure it out, right?â€<br/><br/>And, seamlessly, he was back to talking about his interests again. The subject was no doubt very fascinating to Jack, but he desperately needed reminding that it was the other professor's interests that he needed to support if any of them wanted to end up in Cerulean City within the week. None of the other trainers seemed willing to interrupt him, so Irvine did it himself with a cold, passive gaze that Jack was quite familiar with. It simply meant "stop".<br/><br/>â€œIâ€™d happily just come along to observe if youâ€™re being as hands-off as possible, though. Even if itâ€™s not my intended specialty, itâ€™s something to tell upcoming trainers about, right?â€<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Much better.</span>