pxgtails:
“ Aw yeah, sweet, ‘at’s where it went!! ” Kris enjoyed rooting around in autumn leaves perhaps a little more than most others, but she had other things to be doing — so the less time spent trying to recover a capture, the better. She stood up, slapped the grime from her knees, and began towards the stranger with a sloppy grin. “ Here, toss it, I’ll catch! ”
(A snarl? Contempt? Any such indications of his mood went ignored — or perhaps unnoticed.)
N did not make any motion to throw the Quick Ball as he was told, nor did he make to flee or come closer. He stood his ground, ball still in hand, studying it with narrowed eyes.
“I’ve seen this model of Poke Ball before,” he said suddenly. The words rolled almost unintelligibly quick off his tongue, without pause or hesitation. “The algorithm it uses-- The odds of a successful capture depend solely on the duration of an encounter. In other words, it works best when the Pokemon has first crossed paths with a human, when its guard is down-- when it is least expecting to be attacked. It is given no chance to properly assess the situation before it is locked away, unable to escape...”
Finally, he looked up, fixing Kris with a stony-eyed stare.
“It’s a wretched invention-- a device of cruelty. I can see it as nothing else.” He held it up-- out of reach-- for her to see. “Why should I return it to you?”
