[attr="class","oznitop"][attr="class","ozni"]

[attr="class","oznimain"]He expected an excited squeal. Maybe a mention of that book he’d published last year. A poor like this would usually dance to his tune for a few pennies. Instead, he got a flapjack stack of flack. Oz pulls the gift card back as if the kid had just sprouted a Krokorok’s jaw. With a huff, the CEO took a step back. “No need to be so hostile, kid.” His eyes dropped to the $100 iTunes gift card, wondering if the brat was shortsighted. “Geeze. I’d hate to see how you treat Santa."

His Comfey drifts over to the Alolan Marowak. She seems to be sizing him up. A quick glance reveals a strange little device around her neck a tiny piece of technology no bigger than a fingernail. Not too concerned about Princess Lei’s behavior Oz takes a minute to compose himself. A hand runs through tight braids as he takes in a deep breath of air. “Look, kid.” Fingers pluck the designer sunglasses from his face. He holds them in the same v-configuration as the gift card. “I’m not here to scam anybody. I just need help testing—” Then, that devilish grin makes a reappearance.

“Well, she can tell you all about it.” The Comfey turns to her trainer with a befuddled blink. “Feey?” He turns up the tiny device at his side—not too dissimilar to a Walkman. (“What?”) A feminine voice erupts from two places—around the fairy-type’s neck and at Oz’s belt. The CEO makes a rolling gesture with his fingers.

Quite enjoying her newfound ability to be (mostly) understood, the grassy Pokemon continues. (“It’s a—”) The thing buzzed as it tried to translate a concept the Comfey didn’t understand. The delay was pronounced. (--tranlator. We just need more voice samples!”) Hopefully, that’d pull the wedgie out of grumpy pant’s crack.

[attr="class","oznipoke"]

[attr="class","oznitop"][attr="class","ozni"]

[attr="class","oznimain"]“Sus?! I’m not sus.” It wasn’t like he was slinging heroin. His hair was clean. Every inch of his casual outfit was capital-D designer. That included the limited edition shoes. Heck, he wasn’t even wearing a trench coat! What exactly was he going to do in a place like this? There were paper pushers everywhere. With a huff, Ozni expanded on his earlier words. It was petty. It was immature. But what else did a snot-nosed brat deserve? “You’re the one being all paranoid.”

At the talk of Santa, the man shuddered. Setting people on fire was a bit extreme for a jolly fat guy in a suit. Couldn’t you just push him over or something? “Dang kid.” He shook his head. “You’re worse than the Home Alone guy.” The minor stuff made Ozni slightly uncomfortable. But he wasn’t perving or anything. Besides, he was almost all the way through his sales pitch! Or, well, sales demonstration.

When Ollver started speaking, the CEO felt his lips tilt upward. It’d be nice to see this kid swallow his words.

The Comfey stared down at the other Pokemon with pity. Violence was never the first solution. Still, she did not shy away from the perceived threat. This device finally made it so she could be understood! It wasn’t like one bone would scare her off. At Asher’s shock, the fairy type preened. Her tail drifted airily as she hid her mouth (and the device) behind a little flower.


That excitement made Ozni grin. Now was the time to strike! This punk was eating out of his hands. “About three years.” And he was about to go hungry.

[attr="class","oznipoke"]