[A Tropius arrives at his door, a parcel on top of his head. In the parcel is a Claw Fossil, and a card.]
Merry Christmas, Gravel Butt!
Okay, first, you don't know the trouble I went through to find this thing. I almost wish I was back home so that I can punch you for liking this sort of thing. Really, Rt. 111 is just awful, what with it's forests and mountains and desert with its NEVER ENDING SANDSTORM.
I finally found this after eating bowls of sand, because nothing is too much trouble for my BEST FRIEND. So I hope you like it. Honestly, if you don't, I swear I'll cry. I would.
Anyway, I hope you have a good Christmas, and I'll see you soon!
Thanks for the present, it's nice to see you finally understand the joy I feel when I'm digging for fossils! However, next time might I suggest investing in some Go-Goggles? You see, they prevent being blind in sandstorms and also somehow stop you crunching down to a delightful diet of wethered rock.
As for your present, I've got you a bunch of berry trees for your garden, straigh out of Eterna Forest. So now, you can safely enjoy eating all that stuff without calling me up and forcing me to hunt for them because you're afraid of ghosts.
Hope you're enjoying the time off, and let's hang out when you get back.
And with that Roark gives his written reply to the Tropius.