Coffee Truck Bit Part 4
Premise: After the run-in with Zach, Grisham doesn't feel comfortable with you wandering alone (despite the fact that you have your own pokemon, lol). So, he lends you his pyroar.
It was midday when you came by the truck again — a little wave, a soft smile, your drink already halfway paid for because Grisham kept refusing your money.
He perked up the moment he saw you. But the second he noticed you walking alone? His eyebrows tightened.
Pyroar padded around the truck — mane elegant, fiery, regal in that uniquely feminine, queenly way only a female Pyroar could pull off. She sat tall, tail curled neatly around her paws, eyes alert. It wasn’t often that Grisham had her out, but once in a while he liked to give Charizard a break.
When you approached the truck, she looked up and gave a low, rumbling purr.
“You walked here alone?” Grisham asked, voice low, controlled.
You shrugged lightly. “Lida had something to do. I didn’t want to bother Urbain and Nav—”
“Don’t go alone next time,” he cut you off, quietly but firmly.
You blinked. “Grisham—”
He sighed — long, slow, the kind of exhale that meant he was trying not to sound overbearing while internally screaming.
“Just… after the drink thing… and everything else… I don’t like you walking around the city by yourself.” He wasn’t angry. Just worried.
You raised a brow. “I have my own pokemon, you know.”
His jaw tightened — not in frustration, but fear. He met your eyes, voice softer.
“I know you can take care of yourself. But let me help too.”
He snapped his fingers twice. Pyroar lifted her head instantly. He crouched next to her, brushing a hand through her warm mane. Then he stood, looking at you with quiet seriousness.
“Take her with you,” he said. “Let her be your escort.”
You looked back and forth between Grisham and Pyroar. “You’re… lending me your Pyroar?”
Grisham stood, brushing his hands off.
“To keep you safe, yes.”
Pyroar stepped beside you immediately, nudging your hand with her head — soft but protective.
“See?” Grisham murmured. “She’s already on duty.”
You smiled, petting her cheek. “Thanks, mama.”
Pyroar purred louder.
Grisham’s expression warmed. He cleared his throat. “It’s not a reflection on you. It’s… everything else out there.” His eyes flicked toward a distant alley — as if Zach might materialize out of the shadows.
“Pyroar knows the city,” he added. “And she listens. She won’t crowd you. She’ll just… be there.”
He met your eyes, serious and soft.
Your pulse fluttered.
Then, gently, he added:
“Please take her. If you don’t, I won’t be able to focus on serving my customers.”
You didn’t argue again.
==TIME PASSES==
You returned with Pyroar walking proudly at your side — head high, paws light, looking like a royal guardian escorting her chosen queen.
Griselle was wiping down tables. She froze when she saw Pyroar glued to your side.
“Oh you’ve GOT to be kidding me.”
You shot her a bemused look. “What?”
She pointed dramatically.
“He lent you his Pyroar?!”
“Yeah?”
She tossed her rag on the table she’d been currently cleaning.
“This is beyond disgustingly cute. This is PRACTICALLY MARRIAGE.”
You snorted. “Griselle—”
“No, don’t ‘Griselle’ me. Grisham never lends out his Pyroar. Not even to me, although I have my own and he’s male, but that’s beside the point! A female Pyroar only bonds like that with people she respects,” Griselle said, pointing accusingly. “This is some soulmate-level nonsense! Absolutely disgusting!”
She stomped off.
Then came back.
Then stomped off again.
(This time muttering something like “I hate this but also she’s perfect for him, whatever.”)
You looked over and saw Grisham occupied with some customers, so you took a seat at the nearest table, Pyroar curled protectively against your leg. Still vigilant. Still on duty.
Grisham saw you — saw Pyroar — and relaxed visibly.
He exited the truck and made his way to the both of you. When he reached you, he brushed a hand along Pyroar’s mane.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Thank you.”
Pyroar lifted her chin proudly.
He turned back to you.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” you smiled. “Pyroar was amazing.”
Pyroar purred like a small engine.
Grisham gave you that soft, barely-there smile. The one he didn’t give many people.
“…I’m glad,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t choose people lightly.”
Your heart flipped.
You leaned up and kissed his cheek.
Pyroar gave a pleased chuff, as if she approved.
==THE NEXT DAY==
You were walking with Pyroar at your side — her elegant mane swaying, eyes constantly scanning for danger like a professional guardian.
You’d just grabbed a pastry. Pyroar was sniffing every flower like an elegant diva. People parted politely around you. Then—
“Heyyyyy.”
You groaned in annoyance while Pyroar’s ears angled back immediately. Because that voice was unmistakable.
Zach.
Rank Z Zach.
Taxi driver Zach. The guy who-has-not-learned-A-SINGLE-THING Zach.
He stepped behind a lamppost (terribly), then reappeared like a budget villain.
“You know,” he said, swaggering toward you, “I think we got off on the wrong—”
Pyroar stepped forward.
Zach froze.
Her growl was lower and more dangerous than any male Pyroar could manage — a deep, feminine rumble that promised violence with grace. The kind that says I have burned bigger idiots than you.
Zach laughed nervously. “H-hey now, heh, l-look, I’m just trying to talk—”
Pyroar’s mane flared.
Zach squeaked and put up his hands.
“Okay okay okay okay—sheesh—calm down, kitty—”
Pyroar opened her jaws slightly and a small lick of flame escaped.
Zach shrieked like a Goldeen being stepped on. He sprinted so fast his shoes nearly came off, arms flapping like a panicked Wingull
Pyroar chased him half a block—not to hurt him, just to send the message that she COULD if she wanted to. Eventually, she strutted back to you, mane glowing with pride.
You scratched behind her ear.
“Good girl.”
She puffed up proudly.
When you two returned to the coffee truck, Grisham took one look at the smug lion and sighed.
“…Zach again?”
Pyroar huffed proudly.
You nodded. “He ran away screaming.”
Grisham rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Good.”
He paused.
“Did she chase him far?”
You shrugged. “Just half a block.”
Grisham smirked. “…Excellent.”
Griselle popped her head out of the truck.
“TELL ME PYROAR BIT HIM A LITTLE!”
“Nope,” you said.
“BOOOOO.”
