"So, looks like you're still holding up."
The Iron Valiant seems to scan the champion up and down while Giovanni's voice emanates from the Porygon.
He'd been silently lulled into a brief sense of security, finally able to be on his lonesome outside, that evening.
The sky--a consistent, almost sickly purple paraded over what would've been a gorgeous starry scenery. The Fog is so thick, you have to look at a clock to realize what time it is.
The hiker would stifle a cough, swift hand reaching for his inhaler within his hind pocket, lungs in-taking a particularly poor breath of foggy air.
He can't feel it, the Iron Pokemon's presence--it skitters in the background, and Red is none the wiser; until it speaks.
A shocked glance rears it's way in Iron Valiant's direction, head doing a near spin as Red gasps.
There it was, in the distance.
He would approach the figure slowly, not saying a word--but that voice.