The Beginning of the Sojourner

It was a nice long jog from Voya. Having two pairs of clothes in his backpack made it a little hard to keep clean, but the Pokemon Centers along the way were more than kind to him. It was a nice view of the countryside and a small tour of the region. Despite this... he's always feel far from home, and it wasn't Voya. A little Budew toddled along side of him, getting much needed exercise on this journey. Berries were easy enough to find on the road, so the two of them didn't go hungry, but deep down Bret wondered how he would feed an entire team. Running his fingers through his mess of blond hair, he finally caught sight of the Professors house. Rosie, his little Budew, kept tugging at his pant leg, pointing at the house with excited little peeps, jumping up and down in excitement.

"That's right, luv! We're 'ere!"

Happy at that notion, little Rosie squealed and ran around her dear uncle Bret's legs. He couldn't help but watch the little dear get all excited with her running before slowing down and being tired. Panting for a few moments, she remembered how hot it was and plopped herself down on the ground. Taking a small mirror from his pocket, he looked at himself and the sweat pouring down his brow.

"Hooo... betta get a little brushed up. 'E's a Professor, so good impressions are a must."

Leaning against a tree, he took a comb out of his pocket and tried to straighten up his hair and clean his glasses. His good clothes were still dirty, so it had to be the tank top and his tan khaki's for now. Rosie kept pulling Bret's pant leg to get going, impatient to get registered so she could go out and meet new friends. Satisfied that he looked somewhat civilized, but away the comb and mirror and picked up Rosie in his arms.

"Alright! Alright! Come along!"

Rosie giggled in his arms, snuggling against her precious trainer. Her vines wrapped around his bicep as she went for a ride.

"You know papa won't be able to carry you like this forever, luv. One day you're going to get bloody heavy and grow thorns."

Looking back up at her trainer, she stuck her small tongue out and attached herself more tightly to Bret. Going up to the door, he knocked it a few times, hoping someone was home to answer.

"A'llo! I'm 'ere to register for the Cyx Pokemon League! Already got a starter, just need the paperwork!"

(WC: 429 *300 Gained*)

The was some soft grumbling from behind the door just before it was thrown open. In the doorway stood a man with messy hair and clothes lazily put on. He hadn't even made an effort to tie his tie, he simply threw it around his neck, letting it hang there. "What do you want? paperwork?" He looked over you with glassy eyes as he took a sip of coffee. "Whatever, get in here and we'll get you on your way then." he turned around, leaving the door open.

He yawned a bit then moved to his computer to type in a series of keys, sipping from his mug of coffee occasionally. "What's your name, rookie?" He hardly glanced at you as he spoke.

"Sorry to put you off, doc. Looks like you've been having a bugger of a time."

Rosie scrunched her face at the professor and his crabby personality. Walking in, he was mindful of where he stepped, looking around at his office. Trying to keep a cheerful attitude, he stated his name to get this over with. The Professor looked like he had paperwork up to his neck. He had a feeling that this man was going to simply shove a Pokedex in his hand and tell him happy trails. Still... that wasn't such a bad thing. He knew the ropes from when he was back in his home, he just needed new gear and registration.

"Bret Sojourn. I'm originally from the Caesari Region. My current home is Voya. If you need to scan in Rosie to make things more speedy, you can. She's the only Pokemon I've got so far."

He couldn't imagine what other information he needed. Date of birth, maybe? His features were easy enough, he supposed.

"Do you need me to fill the Pokedex, or are you spot on with that? Poor sod... wish I could help you out. You look like you need more than a holiday."

(WC: 204 *100 gained*)

Once you had said your name and where you were from it seemed that Professor Crowe tuned you out completely. A few minutes of typing into his keyboard and sipping the last of his coffee and it seemed his was done. Well, until he spun in his chair and yanked a small box from the shelf behind him, causing a small avalanche of boxes, papers, and other items. Apparently, he didn't even care, because he simply spun back to his computer and pulled out a Pokedex from the box. With a soft click, he popped the Pokedex into the computer and pressed a single key.

He yawned and then looked at you, as if finally processing what you said. "Holiday?" He burst into laughter. "Boy, I don't get holiday's. I get paid to babysit you newbie trainers," just as he said that there was a soft beep from his computer. He pulled out the Pokedex, pressed a button, which seemed to be the power button, and then handed it to you. "You're all set." He paused for a second or two. "Oh... You want your pokeballs, don't you? And you probably need that Live Caster thing..." He grumbled then ran his hand through his hair, further messing it up. He spun in his chair and began to rummage through the pile of stuff he had knocked over when getting your Pokedex. In a surprisingly short amount of time he pulled out two more small boxes and handed them to you. "You know how to work a Live Caster, right? Good." He stretched in his chair.

"Well... I wouldn't go as far as babysit, sir. I've danced this dance before. Just on a new floor is all."

Rosie didn't like this scatterbrained quack, but she just clung to Bret as he accepted the items. Bret looked a little sheepish as he placed his new items in his backpack. Despite the man in front of him being a Professor, Bret just had the urge to inch closer to the door.

"Righto... I'll... be on my way then. Thanks for the registration... an' good luck with all that! Hope you find a pretty secretary and get a couple pints of draft!"

Bret started creeping out the door. If the professor didn't have anything else, Bret would quickly get out of his hair... and his paper... and his work that he seemed to hate. Bloody mother! Were all Yanks like this?

(WC 142)

*End of Thread*