//Closed with thunderanthem
Tynamo heard someone approaching, trying to press himself further into the wall. He only cried harder, holding his wrist close as he looked to the Pikachu. It didn’t seem like the Pokemon would try to hurt him, and it was a fellow electric type. That alone calmed him slightly, but he continued to cry from the pain in his wrist that seemed to be radiating up his whole arm. Then the man came closer to him; he was the Pokemon’s trainer, but he felt he could trust him.
“I-I fell a-and hurt m-my wrist.. S-See?” The electric type gently held out his arm; it looked like he’d probably broken his wrist. He carefully stood, “C-Can you carry m-me? I-It’s big and s-scary in h-here!” Tears still freely flowed down the child’s cheeks, and he whimpered.
Surge took one look at the boy’s wrist and frowned deeply. From the way the kid was holding it, and the way it was starting to puff up, he had a bad feeling that it was probably broken. He might have been a passable hand at performing first aid in the field twenty years ago, but he’d fallen out of the habit a long time ago.
“Don’t worry, kid, we’ll get you outta here in no time,” he said, keeping his voice low. He wasn’t much for comforting anybody, especially kids, but he at least did his best to reassure the boy as he picked him up. If nothing else, he could follow Volty’s paw prints and his own boot prints back part of the way to the entrance. “So, you got a name, kid?”
