Scizor isn't sure about taking orders from a cat.

This cat, however, belonged to its master; the dual-type reluctantly flits over to where it's directed with a drone of insect wings.

Its pincers are ideal for clamping onto things, so it takes up the mantle of holding certain objects in place to be welded, glued, aligned, or otherwise repaired. This seems a silly thing to be occupying the time of a prestigious battler like Scizor, or so it thinks, but it resigns itself to the task with a bored expression and manages to withhold an urge for violence.

When those tasks are done, it finds that it's equally sufficient at holding tools within its vice-like grip. The cycle begins anew.

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A soft chirrup echoed from the back room of the pawn shop, where a Kricketune was fiddling with a recently-pawned set of speakers. She’d taken them apart with swift, effective movements of her needle-sharp forelegs, checking each part carefully before returning it to its place. She worked quickly and efficiently.

Apparently she had a knack for tinkering.

The shop owner had tasked her with fixing the blown-out sound equipment and so Laina fiddled with it alone, isolated away from the other Pokemon except for the occasional pass by Persian on his rounds. She was the only Kricketune in the pawn shop, and she felt little kinship with the other bug-type Scizor. This was a job for finesse, and in the cricket’s mind, only Laina could do it.

There was a small hole in the front mesh she’d already repaired with a Sticky Web, so now it was just time to put the speakers to the test. <Testing,> she said into the microphone. The sound was clear, but could it stand up to higher frequencies? <Testing, testing, one-two, one-two.> This time, the sound echoed in her hollow chest, amplified through the speakers in a sonic blast. Echoed Voice came back around for a third round that could be heard on the street outside the shop— but the mesh held firm.

Coiling up the cord neatly, Laina returned the appliance to the shop owner, collecting another gadget to pick apart and study.

Scizor didn't like the lighting in this rundown pawn shop. He wanted something dingier. There were just too many of the cheap fluorescent bulb still functioning! Freshly caught from the recesses of New Mauville, there were few places in this shop to lurk, skulk or even to just to loiter. It was as if the entire shop flaw was designed to be visible from the cash register, where that damn Persian was watching them. The cat looked over at him, and he flashed the twin eyes on his claws, hoping to scare away the feline. It just looked away again.
With no other options available, Scizor decided to blend in. He flitted over to the section of the store holding instruments, where he was barely visible between all of the modified, red and black electric guitars. He busied himself reshaping one of the flutes, biding his time in this bright, noisy jail.