Miles watched their anxious stares shift to ones of confusion, once his choice had been revealed in a brief flash of light. As his mushroom pokemon
made a grand spectacle of its unveiling — by twirling around like a ballet dancer, with one leg off the ground. Swiftly winning the heart and attention of the young girl that observed him continue this for a few seconds more. Before he finished off his excitable entrance, by striking a pose while facing her and proudly proclaiming its name. “Breloom!”
Which soon received her applause, and then the louder kid’s mocking laughter shortly after. Causing Breloom’s joyous expression to fade into a discouraged pout. Prompting the girl to huff and stomp her feet, as she turned to face them. “Hey! What are you laughing at?” She snapped, with her hands quickly taking out a pokeball from within her jacket’s front pouch. Having the boys’ hands reaching down into their pants’ pockets, and pulling out their own in response.
“I thought we were going to battle, not have a pageant show for little girls.” He scoffed. Visibly upsetting the Breloom further, until Miles' voice had him looking up at his trainer’s confident smile.“Show‘em what you’re made of, Frolic.”
Miles encouraged, calmly sticking his thumb up. Instantly lifting the Breloom’s spirits and his red claws up in the air, as he took a boxing stance. Followed up by the sight of her Skitty
coming out and unleashing a feminine mewl.
“Ha! That’s the dumb one who got stuck inside the berry bush!” The kid taunted, with his finger pointing to the pink cat. As she was now prancing around Miles’ pokemon and making playful attempts to paw at the green seeds on his tail. Interrupted by his friend's impatient sigh, raising the pokeball in his grasp.
“Can we just start this already?” His darkly-clothed pal asked rhetorically, letting out his Raboot
. As the rabbit stood beside him, with mutual apathy and folded paws. Getting a tongue click and a smug grin from the other, as he lightly tossed the pokeball upward and caught it with the same hand.
“Don’t be a buzzkill.” He replied, patting his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll get some ice cream right after this—on him.
” He added with emphasis, tilting his head in Miles’ direction. Capturing the Raboot’s eager gaze, as his pupils practically morphed into hearts. Though it was quick to notice and mirror his trainer’s fatigued stare and motions, as the friend groaned and held his forehead.
“Yeah-yeah whatever.” The friend dismissed. With his Raboot uttering similarly critical noises in agreement.
While Miles maintained his upbeat appearance and waited for the second pokemon to be shown. He turned his smile toward the violet-eyed trainer that nervously approached him. “Is something wrong?”
He wondered, as his cheerful tone seemed to ease her worries. “Oh. And I’m Miles, by the way.”
“Um. Will your pokemon be alright against the fire type?” She questioned with hushed concern, hands stuck inside her pockets. “Of course he is.”
Miles answered, unconsciously rubbing the back of his head. Hmm. What’s the problem with that type again?
But remembering why would have to wait—as Miles looked at the kid’s Bouffalant
. Soon hearing the kid hollering out, with hands raised next to his mouth. “Come on! Are you two scared or what?”
As Miles stepped forward, with a cool-sounding statement readily prepared. “I’m never afraid to win-”
He began, before pausing at the familiar voice that was calling out his name from behind. Receiving all of their eyes and witnessing Conner running up to him, while proceeding to intervene before the battle started.
“You idiot! Can’t you see that we're about to double battle? Meaning four people only.” The kid rebuked bluntly, with a glare. “So unless you have money to chip in, you better scram!” He asserted. However, as if on cue, a blonde boy
their age would suddenly rush up to the group with a friendly wave.
“Looking for a third team member?” The perky teen questioned, raising his arms in a bright yellow jacket, with both of his hands covered up by his long sleeves. Approaching the two boys like they knew each other, with his Jotik
emerging from underneath his hood. Immediately causing the louder boy to run behind his darkly-dressed friend, and the Bouffalant to subsequently retreat behind his trainer. Both shivering in unison, as their unsolicited protector sighed.
“Weren’t you still grounded?” The boy remarked. As the blonde kid smiled slyly and shrugged his shoulders.
Leaving the conversation at that—Miles proceeded to clear his throat and address the newcomer. "If everyone's willing to accept my friend’s participation-"
“T-that’s fine.” The orange-haired boy stuttered, pointing at Jotik. “B-but so long as it's your friend fighting that thing
at a distance. F-far away from us.” He appealed. As the Bouffalant swiftly nodded, and the Raboot shook his head in disbelief.
“Aw. Don’t call her a thing.” The blonde boy uttered with a frown. Soon taking her out of his hood and holding the Jotik out in his sleeved hand. As he turned to Conner and smiled. “Don’t you think she’s pretty?” He inquired.
"Jotik." She chirped with glee, waiting for the young man's answer.