"… I’m not cut out for Pokemon. You should just take it back."
But that wasn’t something that Nate needed to focus on right now. He had to save his words… he didn’t know how long he could keep speaking at this awkward whisper. It honestly was just like all the times he had woken up from death. Did he really not die?
"… Well, I mean… some people survived last time. Why would you want to risk getting lost in the mountains on day on? You could have died and that would have been MY fault. There’s nothing to enjoy as long as we’re still in the hands of the school."
Burying himself further, he turned over so that his head was in the pillow, almost silencing his words.
"Winter is depressing. If Monobear wanted to give us a brief amount of hope before he destroyed it, he would have chose someplace warmer."
It wasn’t like he was going to enjoy anything anytime soon anyways. He didn’t die, so Nate had to go through realistic recovery for once.
"You're not trying. How do you expect to ever be good at something if you never make an attempt?"
Petrel had made sure he didn't die. When he hadn't responded in the snow, he'd checked for a pulse, a light breath, and off they went. Lodge bound for meager warmth.
"I don't value my life like other people do. If we die when we come back that just makes it all the more expendable. I think you understand that." He was always the one putting himself in mortal danger, after all.
Regardless, he's starting to be unable to hear him from under that pillow. Moving closer, he laid across Nate's buried form sideways. Ah yeah, there's some more warmth for you. "Maybe. He has a lot of fur so I don't think winter is as depressing to him as it is to us."














