"No tone. Odd." He jams the phone back into his pocket. "Nurse. If you see the rest of that trainer group that was in here earlier come in, let them know I'm in Room 2B."
It's a simple enough room, but suited for his needs. Plodding over to the side table, he unslings the backpack from his back, placing it delicately on the table, gentle to avoid damaging the egg that sits heavily there and retrieves a pair of plastic bowls from the front pouch.
One is familiar and worn. The other a fresh spare.
Placing the first in the corner, he fills it with dry food, then cracks the seal on his first Pokeball.
"Meal time, kiddo." He reaches down and ruffles his hand through the Growlithe's fur. "Good job today, little guy."
Winston barks appreciatively and pads off to the corner before burying his face in his dish.
He places the second bowl in the center of the room away from the bed, then hobbles back into the corner to join Winston. Reaching down, he thumbs the release catch on his second Pokeball.
In a flash of light, the Paras appears chittering wildly. It looks around frantically in it's strange environment, a far cry from it's muddy little sump. Then spotting it's antagonist, it skitters away, backing into a corner, clicking it's claws in his direction in blind panic.
"Easy." His voice is low, his tone soft. "Easy. I'm not here to hurt you."
Making eye contact with the Paras, he stands motionless waiting for the bug Pokemon to make sense of it's surrounding.
Keep talking. Let it get used to the sound of your voice. That was the thing about Pokemon. You were never really sure how much they understood, but more often than not, they surprised you.
"I came across you in the wilds outside Trillium Town. We fought. That's in the past. I'm Vincent. This is Winston."
Hearing his name Winston glances up from his dish at the Paras and snuffles the air. He lets our a soft bark and returns to his meal unperturbed.
"I realize you're upset I brought you here. That wasn't a very polite introduction and I can understand you not liking me very much after a fight." He says quietly, not breaking eye contact with the bug Pokemon. "But I will promise you this. I will take care of you. To the best of my abilities as a trainer. And hopefully, at some point, to the best of my abilities as a friend."
He slowly takes a step forward, avoiding sudden moves that would startle the Paras. It's eyes goggle slightly and it flares the gills of it's mushrooms and clacks it's claws defensively.
Slowly and cautiously, he walks to the center of the room, still without breaking eye contact, pouring a small quantity of food into the empty bowl. Then with the same methodical motions, he backs away to the corner.
"It's been a long day. That's for you." He waits silently.
Long minutes pass.
The Paras twitches in it's corner, alternating between looking around for an escape path from the room and eyeing him nervously. Finally, cautiously, drawn by the prospects of a meal, it takes an exploratory step from it's corner towards the bowl. Vincent remains impassive as the Paras slowly works up it's courage and skitters closer, pausing and glancing around for signs of threats from the strange squishy pink thing and it's angry bitey orange thing.
I takes almost another full minute, before it finally makes it's way up to the bowl. Gingerly picking up the dry food with it's pellets, it begins shoveling them into it's mouth. When the dish is empty, it backs away once again.
Repeating the same process, Vincent steps forward again adding another small layer of food into the bowl, then backs away, careful to reduce the distance from him to the bowl by a third.
"Good. You're hungry. Eat up."
It's a painstakingly slow process to watch as he makes alternating cycles of filling the dish and backing away to let the Paras feed, slowly but steadily closing the distance he retreats each time. Unsurprisingly, the Paras has worked up an appetite since the fight. It's obviously been a rough day for the bug Pokemon and the Paras is struggling to cope with the changes. But it's being fed, at the very least, so that's something.
Finally, he fills the bowl, but does not leave.
Minutes pass as the Paras deals with the warring desires for food and fear of the squishy pink thing next the bowl. Finally, it scuttles out of the corner, snatches the entire bowl at Vincent's feet and hauls it back to it's corner. The body language is obvious. My bowl.
Vincent stifles a laugh. Smart bug. Gingerly, he lowers his posture to a crouch and fishes out a handful of food pellets from the pack.
"Easy. I've got some more on me, but you've got to work with me on this lot." Proffering the food from an open palm, he holds himself stationary, letting the bug make the first move. Finally after another long few minutes of waiting, it does.
He winces inwardly as the bug scoops food from his hand, with it's claws, jabbing him more than once in the process. There's a lingering suspicion that more than a few of those are intentional, but he waves them off. Little brat. Still I did beat him up and drag him here so I deserve that at least.
Finally, he cautiously reaches out, and gently places his hand on the Paras' carapace. It's warm.
The Paras immediately flinches and scuttles away to it's corner, leaving a trail of pellets across the floor.
The clock on the wall ticks away the minutes that pass before the spooked bug settles itself enough to dare to return. It's an arduous, slow process, but not one he's never done before. At least it didn't try to take off my hand the first time like that damn dog.
He wasn't about to get the Paras eating out of his hands the first time around but it was eating so that counted for something at least. Then the idea comes to him.
"I'm going to call you Moran."
The officer lurking at the back of his skull lets out an appreciative chuckle.
It's a simple enough room, but suited for his needs. Plodding over to the side table, he unslings the backpack from his back, placing it delicately on the table, gentle to avoid damaging the egg that sits heavily there and retrieves a pair of plastic bowls from the front pouch.
One is familiar and worn. The other a fresh spare.
Placing the first in the corner, he fills it with dry food, then cracks the seal on his first Pokeball.
"Meal time, kiddo." He reaches down and ruffles his hand through the Growlithe's fur. "Good job today, little guy."
Winston barks appreciatively and pads off to the corner before burying his face in his dish.
He places the second bowl in the center of the room away from the bed, then hobbles back into the corner to join Winston. Reaching down, he thumbs the release catch on his second Pokeball.
In a flash of light, the Paras appears chittering wildly. It looks around frantically in it's strange environment, a far cry from it's muddy little sump. Then spotting it's antagonist, it skitters away, backing into a corner, clicking it's claws in his direction in blind panic.
"Easy." His voice is low, his tone soft. "Easy. I'm not here to hurt you."
Making eye contact with the Paras, he stands motionless waiting for the bug Pokemon to make sense of it's surrounding.
Keep talking. Let it get used to the sound of your voice. That was the thing about Pokemon. You were never really sure how much they understood, but more often than not, they surprised you.
"I came across you in the wilds outside Trillium Town. We fought. That's in the past. I'm Vincent. This is Winston."
Hearing his name Winston glances up from his dish at the Paras and snuffles the air. He lets our a soft bark and returns to his meal unperturbed.
"I realize you're upset I brought you here. That wasn't a very polite introduction and I can understand you not liking me very much after a fight." He says quietly, not breaking eye contact with the bug Pokemon. "But I will promise you this. I will take care of you. To the best of my abilities as a trainer. And hopefully, at some point, to the best of my abilities as a friend."
He slowly takes a step forward, avoiding sudden moves that would startle the Paras. It's eyes goggle slightly and it flares the gills of it's mushrooms and clacks it's claws defensively.
Slowly and cautiously, he walks to the center of the room, still without breaking eye contact, pouring a small quantity of food into the empty bowl. Then with the same methodical motions, he backs away to the corner.
"It's been a long day. That's for you." He waits silently.
Long minutes pass.
The Paras twitches in it's corner, alternating between looking around for an escape path from the room and eyeing him nervously. Finally, cautiously, drawn by the prospects of a meal, it takes an exploratory step from it's corner towards the bowl. Vincent remains impassive as the Paras slowly works up it's courage and skitters closer, pausing and glancing around for signs of threats from the strange squishy pink thing and it's angry bitey orange thing.
I takes almost another full minute, before it finally makes it's way up to the bowl. Gingerly picking up the dry food with it's pellets, it begins shoveling them into it's mouth. When the dish is empty, it backs away once again.
Repeating the same process, Vincent steps forward again adding another small layer of food into the bowl, then backs away, careful to reduce the distance from him to the bowl by a third.
"Good. You're hungry. Eat up."
It's a painstakingly slow process to watch as he makes alternating cycles of filling the dish and backing away to let the Paras feed, slowly but steadily closing the distance he retreats each time. Unsurprisingly, the Paras has worked up an appetite since the fight. It's obviously been a rough day for the bug Pokemon and the Paras is struggling to cope with the changes. But it's being fed, at the very least, so that's something.
Finally, he fills the bowl, but does not leave.
Minutes pass as the Paras deals with the warring desires for food and fear of the squishy pink thing next the bowl. Finally, it scuttles out of the corner, snatches the entire bowl at Vincent's feet and hauls it back to it's corner. The body language is obvious. My bowl.
Vincent stifles a laugh. Smart bug. Gingerly, he lowers his posture to a crouch and fishes out a handful of food pellets from the pack.
"Easy. I've got some more on me, but you've got to work with me on this lot." Proffering the food from an open palm, he holds himself stationary, letting the bug make the first move. Finally after another long few minutes of waiting, it does.
He winces inwardly as the bug scoops food from his hand, with it's claws, jabbing him more than once in the process. There's a lingering suspicion that more than a few of those are intentional, but he waves them off. Little brat. Still I did beat him up and drag him here so I deserve that at least.
Finally, he cautiously reaches out, and gently places his hand on the Paras' carapace. It's warm.
The Paras immediately flinches and scuttles away to it's corner, leaving a trail of pellets across the floor.
The clock on the wall ticks away the minutes that pass before the spooked bug settles itself enough to dare to return. It's an arduous, slow process, but not one he's never done before. At least it didn't try to take off my hand the first time like that damn dog.
He wasn't about to get the Paras eating out of his hands the first time around but it was eating so that counted for something at least. Then the idea comes to him.
"I'm going to call you Moran."
The officer lurking at the back of his skull lets out an appreciative chuckle.
