“A gardener?” Zacharias chimed, finally wiping his face to clear it of spittle.

"Whatever fuckin' works, I guess?"

His sides ached, and the contents of the stolen appletini churned ominously; yet, as long as it remained down, he could float in his splendid stupor.

But, a sight in the road would jolt him from his drunken state. The horns. The majestic figure of something he had chased, during a time that he could barely recall.

“Priam! Pull over! Pull over! It's mine! I found you! I fucking found you!” He would shout, drawing an actual pokeball from his waist as his free hand pointed an accusatory finger out the car window.

Regardless of if Priam pulled over the car, he would swing open the passenger door.

And aim to clip the deer with it.

Regardless of if this effort was successful, he would throw a pokeball.

capture attempt
priam conrad dominic sinclair