Chapter Text
The fluorescent lights hum alive, like little bugs that flit around, buzzing in synchrony. It’s cold, accredited to the cool linoleum tiles and the chilled section in the back. Things should warm up soon, now that you’re here.
You watch as your other morning-shift coworkers file in after you, one beelining to the shelter care, one giving you a brief acknowledgement from over the counter, to which you give an affirmative nod. The air is setting heavy on your bones. All routine. It’s going to be an absolutely average day for Rodney Meng. To celebrate such an average day, you do as you always do. Checking stock. Reorganize anything that the closers left behind. Really, it’s not all that thrilling.
The minutes before the PokéPetsmart opens today are long but manageable because they let you have a moment to check your Tumblr page before it becomes too busy to keep up. Keeping your phone at strictly waist-level and glancing down at it, as if you don’t even really care, you scroll through the messages you’ve gotten.
[ adopt a salamence adopt a salamence adopt a salamence adopt a salamence ]
[ CLÌCK HËRĘ >>>> NOW <<<< TO WIN A $FREE$ R070M ]
[ What would you do if bart got married? To a pokemon ]
[ AITA? My (M24) wife (F19) and I were disagreeing on whether it was appropriate to try and raise a Metagross in Nimbasa City because of our apartment size (1200sqft), which I’m pretty sure is enough, but she keeps bringing up the detail that her mother was killed by a rocket launched Beldum to the head, even though that isn’t really relevant because it happened over a decade ago. I went to her brother about i
That feels like enough for now. Nothing you really want to engage with, if you’re being perfectly honest. It’s at this point that you hear a squeak from the glass front door. Odd. You don’t open for another 15 minutes. Better go check it out, you suppose.
You trundle up to the door and find a man roughly your age looking in from across the glass. You see, the door is hazily one-sided. No one can really look inside without pressing their faces against the glass. It’s a nice touch, because it makes whoever does this look like an idiot. You snicker to yourself in brief amusement, watching this guy do the same.
You study him for a moment longer. You don’t recognize him, but you can get to know him a little just by how he presents himself. He’s tall, maybe half a foot taller than you are. He has long, purposefully-unkempt thick black hair that acts out in tufts, completed by a short beard and mustache that compliment his warm-looking face. He’s wearing a pale, baby-pink sweatshirt that has some design on it that you can’t see from under another shirt that he’s layering over it. He likes to keep cozy, it seems. He’s wearing a Pokégotchi on his belt that appears to be turned off. Cute. He’s wearing an odd expression on his face. It reminds you of a lost Lillipup. After you decide you’ve had enough time staring at him like a freak, you open the door on him, to which he jolts like he’s been electrocuted. (You’d know, because you have been. Unpleasant.)
“Aaah?!” he yelps, scootching backward from the entrance.
“Sorry, man. Closed for another fifteen. Is it an emergency?” You’re not required to ask, per se, but it feels polite.
“Oh! Uh, nope! No emergencies. Just– just yes. Yeah?” Jeez. You shook the poor guy to his core. His face is a fresh red-brown, and he’s looking you up and down. Must not have anticipated you getting here so quick, you suppose.
“...Uh-huh. Just come back soon then.” He’s giving you a strange look that you can’t really read. You’d call it “staring.” He doesn’t say a word in response, just nodding. Nodding quickly, then shuffling away off to the side as you close the door on him.
As you walk away, you glance back for just a moment. He’s still in front of the one-way window, where you can see him with his back pressed against the glass and his hood pulled down over his head, knees tucked in. You… kind of want to ask if he’s okay? You guess. But you’ll probably find out in 15 minutes, so it’s whatever.
You’re watching the door when it gets unlocked by one of your coworkers out of your peripherie, expecting someone to be there. The guy. Oddly enough… nothing. Maybe he left? Was he that embarrassed that he couldn’t make it inside? I mean, it wasn’t that big a deal. Leaning over to check the window, you squint past your glasses. He’s… still outside. Kind of just standing there. Looking at his phone. Distracted, maybe? You check your own phone. Yep. 9:00 AM. The number clicks over to 9:01, on the dot, but you’re forced back to attention as the guy from outside hurries in. Huh.
Inconspicuously… you make your way towards him. It’s professional to greet customers. It’s not long before you find him, sifting through the shelves, somewhat aimlessly. Like he’s window shopping at a pet supply store. “You need help finding anything?” you ask, behind him. He jumps practically a foot in the air, startled.
“Oh me? Me? Oh, sure, yeah, tons,” he responds, hurried. He’s got a kind of frantic charm to him. With a clearing of his throat, he adjusts himself to stand up straight. “I’m– I’m Sohan. What’s your name?” He asks, with a practiced air.
You point to your nametag. It says Rodney. “Rodney.” He twitches a little bit. “How can I help? What kind of pokémon do you have?”
“A Pancham,” he nods. “You know how it is. She’s always… tumbling around and stuff. A real Pancham kind of girl. How do I make her… tumble less?”
“...Tumble less.”
“..Yes.”
“Well,” you sigh. “Have you tried getting her one of those climbable punching bags? You can’t really stop a Pancham from moving around, but it might help her get some of that energy out. Cost-efficient, too.”
“PUNCHING BAG!” he half-shouts. “Right. That’s great. Perfect, even. You’re so smart. That’s cool. See you!” Then, as soon as he came, he starts shuffling away. All that’s left of him is the little di-di-ding of the storefront bell that tells you he’s already out the door.
What an odd guy.