audio, backdated to during the Dragafloat Festival

[telewarped]

[Following a successful but taxing bounty quest, Shoka has been stuck in the Pokéclinic since the 15th—and judging by the way the clinic Pokémon look at her and the way her stupid, freak body keeps telling her it's somehow still on fire, even when it totally isn't, she's going to be stuck there for some time. She can still walk, kind of, and it doesn't hurt all the time, so if anyone were to ask her, she'd tell them that this amount of caution is entirely unnecessary... But no one did ask her.

The Grumpearl message comes in darkness; no visuals or even true audio—just pure thought:]

This bites. I wanna go to the festival!

Maybe I can sneak out...?

[This is almost definitely the Grumpearl version of a butt-dial. In Shoka's case, it's more of a head-dial, considering that her pearl is still stowed away inside the hollow of her disguise's false Pikachu head.]

Comments

FKLJ:HKL...i'm honored...she's so beautiful!! 😭😭

[telewarped]

[Before their psychic connection is broken, there's a giggle from Shoka.]

Thanks... I'll really owe you one!

[When A.B.A arrives at the Pokéclinic, she'll find Shoka sitting propped up in one of the cots. She's playing a good patient, obediently still and resting, and doesn't really look injured at first glance, though on closer inspection, A.B.A may notice the large, just slightly off-color patch that's been sewn near the neck of Shoka's disguise rag. It looks as if a swath of the fabric was ripped out and then repaired.]

A.B.A, hey—

[And then there's the way that when she unthinkingly lifts her claws to wave A.B.A over, she cringes in pain, the length of her arm fraying at the edges and briefly flickering like static noise. Her arm drops back down onto the sheets, then, lying uselessly before her as she sighs (half out of annoyance, half out of tiredness).

That is, until A.B.A presents her with the box.]

Wait—seriously? [She immediately perks up again, eyes wide behind her mask, and reaches for it—more carefully this time—to almost reverently open it and peer inside.] Oh my god, yes! This is exactly what I was talking about!

[She extracts one real, bonafide dango skewer (!) with a little, restrained flourish, radiating excitement, but first:]

Thanks—so much! You're the best!