sixteentxns:
“You’ve got a damned nerve, Flint,” lectures Roark, “to come to my place of work during my shift and request to see my Cyndaquil.” He crosses his arms, then sighs. “… Then again, it ain’t like things like this haven’t happened to me before. Story of my life.”
He rubs his temples before redirecting his attention to his afro’d colleague. “I keep him in my office,” he states after a brief pause. “Can’t trust that critter a fuckin’ minute at home, you know. I bet my apartment building’s more flammable than a tumbleweed and a magnifyin’ glass in the middle of the Outback.”
Roark grinds his boots into the damp mine floor, almost as if to wipe the dirt off, but they just end up getting more smudged. He can’t quite disguise the annoyed tone in his voice, no matter how he masks his mood with a fake smile. “Anyway, you got lucky. I was just headed to my office anyway. The mine’s caught a bad case of the stupid flu an’ I don’t want to be around to catch it.”
He begins to walk to the mine’s opening, motioning for Flint to come follow him. “Sorry if I sound a might cross,” he apologizes as he clunks up the shoddy wooden steps to his office, “but I’ve had a helluva day. At any rate, what do want the Cyndaquil for?”
A frown appeared on Flint’s face. It wasn’t entirely serious but nevertheless, he was taken aback by the sudden hostility. He wondered how Roark upheld such a temperament in a place like this. It was too hot, too humid to be here in a GOOD mood. Beneath the ground, he noticed, humidity managed to work its way into the mine and cling to his clothes.
“ Aw, sorry. ” He said with a plaintive shrug. “ I wasn’t gonna come here to ask for work, I have my own. Besides, ” a finger pointed dramatically at the roof. “ I’m a man that belongs above ground. ”
And he couldn’t deny the Machop roaming around here crushing rocks and digging into bedrock somewhat terrified him. They were half his size but twice as intimidating.
He caught himself on the verge of blurting out some horror story confession about the Machop but luckily restrained himself, momentarily distracted when Roark turned to leave for his office. Over the excitement of seeing a rare Cyndaquil, Flint didn’t care much for the Pokemon’s misbehaviour; fire types rarely did come with a good set of manners.
At the mention of the flu he tried to resist covering his mouth and nose. “ Better to not be here, ” he muttered. “ I was sick with a cold only a couple weeks ago. Put challengers off for weeks. ”
Flint glanced at Roark briefly. The apology wasn’t necessary. “ It’s alright, I think I picked a bad time to visit anyway. ” As they reached the office door he waited eagerly. “ Well, I mostly just wanna see it. Sure, I have my own starter but I’ve been itching to see ones from other regions. How did you even manage to get the little bugger in the first place? ”
