It happened every now and then–maybe more than ‘every now and then’ considering Mark was not the type to really hide his identity in public by way of face masks and hats—a fan would spot him and get particularly excited. And with a smile, the young Elite Four member would stand and let them ramble and stumble and try to form the needed words to express whatever emotion they were feeling. He was always patient about it, very rarely bothered by it, and not averse to a hug or two in an attempt to calm nerves. Pictures were taken, things were signed, snapchat stories updated.
But it was a different occurrence all together when said fan was a Pokemon. They couldn’t speak, they couldn’t ramble, and dealing with them was much different. Often times it was Fate or Líng being faced with their own little fanbase, and they’d respond with kind growls and yips. But on some occasions, it wasn’t his Arcanine or his Ninetales that people would request to see or Pokemon would be urgently patting at Mark’s pants pockets for. Sometimes, people wanted to see the shy Chandelier Pokemon that wasn’t often out of it’s ball except for battles.
When released, Diànjí would give a small twirl, naturally let out it’s cry and eye the crowd of people who wanted to see him. Camera flashes, cheers, and a bunch of smaller ghosts floating around him, “Don’t get to close to the flames.” Mark would warn, not wanting curious Pokemon to end up falling victim to the Chandelure’s slightly dark soul-stealing ability. And Mark would be focused on making sure his Pokemon and other people’s Pokemon were okay in the presence of his ghost Pokemon.
And so, he couldn’t always keep an eye on everything around him. Sometimes things slipped through the cracks–or in this case–small Pokemon who’d approached from behind. Mark didn’t know what it was at first, but very suddenly, his shoulder bag that was sat on the floor was ablaze and people were panicking. Mark jumped, gasping, not having to respond to it much more than that before people nearby began to fan and stamp it. In this chaos Mark managed to see the culprit however, and see that someone’s very large foot was about to stomp it by mistake, “Wait–Stop!” He knelt down, moving the flap of his now charred bag to reveal a Litwick, “Hi there. Were you responsible for this?“
All she wanted was some dukkbokki. That's it. Just some street food to munch on while taking a peacful stroll with her Litwick. But, being that Litwick had a naughty nature, it was only expected that he would get into trouble one way or another. Tia had taken her eyes off of him for just a moment to order and receive her food, but by the time she turned back, he had disappeared. Stomping one foot in frustration, she began her search for him, calling out his name and even trying to bribe him with his favorite Poffin flavor. Her irritation didn't last long, however, when she heard a frantic cry from what was definitely her Litwick coming from a nearby location, along with sounds of a... Crowd? Her stomach dropped and she quickly picked up her pace in her search for him.
She finally came across a not-too-large crowd of people, though she couldn't see what was at its center, nor did she hear her Litwick's call anymore. Trying her best to not start crying, Tia tried to politely push her way through to the center of the crowd to see what everyone was there for. She was met with a fence of arms keeping her from stepping into clearing of the crowd, but beyond them, she could see someone kneeling in front of a ghostly colored flame. Craning her neck a bit allowed her a clear view of the source of the flame and it was indeed her escaped Litwick. Before she could call out to him, her eyes caught smoke rising from something off to the side as well as a loose Chandelure looming about.
Finally deciding to push past the human barricades keeping her from her Litwick, Tia approached the scene quickly, but paused mid-sprint when she identified what the obviously burnt object on the ground was. Connecting the dots, she looked back and forth from her Litwick to the backpack he seemed to have charred before approaching the stranger whose back was still turned to her. She tapped his shoulder gently and waited for a short moment before stuttering out her question. “U-um-- Excuse me... Did my Litwick... do that?” she asked nervously, gesturing towards the backpack.
