with quick, silent steps, the gym leader darts down the stairs of the gym, pokéball grasped in one hand. after several suspicious glances to both sides, camille sets off, meandering the streets as his eyes observe the surrounding areas.
he’s on a team evolution hunt today, and there’s been rumors of recent activity near the gym. “the nerve of those people,” camille grumbles to himself, hands tucked away into pockets. the nerve.
there’s noise of a commotion up in a nearby alley, he realizes, gritting his teeth. by the feeling of the auras, there’s two — one is most likely a poor victim, and the other? probably a grunt of some sort.
black hood draped over his head, effectively hiding most of his features, camille runs to the entrance of the alley, quickly blocking the grunt’s view of a small girl. she’s clutching a tiny buneary in her hands, and after a wave of his hands, she disappears around the corner and out of sight.
“what are you doing?” he snaps at the grunt, who huffs at him and leaves him no room to say another word, because the grunt launches at him.
it actually isn’t much of a fight, because camille manages to disarm the older man and summon makeshift handcuffs in a matter of exactly ten seconds. kind of pathetic, really. with a literal grunt, the man tumbles to the ground and camille hauls him up with a flick of one hand.
the two parade through the streets while people stare, until they both reach the local police station. camille waves his right hand and the team evolution grunt falls unceremoniously onto the concrete with a small shriek of pain.
the two glare at each other for several moments while camille walks down the steps, and he lets an annoyed “tch” slip from his lips as he disregards the grunt.
camille doesn’t register the rapidly approaching aura until it smacks right into him, and he stumbles backwards with a ungraceful yelp, pokebáll bursting open and yin catching him before he lands painfully on the sidewalk.
she gently pushes him onto his feet, and camille flushes, eyes flicking upwards to meet the newcomer before him.
this was a stroke of irony, really. the graceful gym leader nearly stumbling over his feet and crashing into someone else.
“apologies,” camille murmurs, hands shoving back into his pockets. he really wishes that the man won’t recognize him. “i do hope you’re not injured or anything.”
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