Hearthome City was never one of Cyrus’s favorite places. But he had been asked by Mars to pick up something for her, and he owed her a few too many favors to refuse. So there he sat, waiting at the Poffin Shop’s counter for her order of Poffins. He felt like an absolute fool. He had let his Houndoom sit out with him, and the mutt was wrapped around his stool, content because a few children had fed him some Poffins while Cyrus hadn’t been watching. Cyrus sighed and leaned his head on his hand, glancing up at the clock every once in a while. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter. The head chef had said five more minutes ten minutes ago, and he was starting to feel the slightest bit of aggravation.
“Boredom, check!”
Make that a heck of a lot of aggravation.
“Can’t you just say hello like a normal person?” Cyrus sighed, not even turning to face the Champion that was sitting beside him.
“The last time I did that, you almost fell into a lake,” said Cynthia, still smiling innocently. Cyrus heard his Houndoom snicker. “So what are you doing here anyway?” Cynthia asked.
“I’m picking up something for someone,” he said, attempting to keep any emotion out of his voice.
“That’s awful considerate of you.”
He shook his head. “I’m repaying a favor is all. I should be leaving any time now.” With this, he glanced to the clock again.
Cynthia stared at him for a minute. “Getting a little impatient, Cyrus?”
“Of course not.”
“I do believe you are,” said Cynthia with a raised eyebrow.
“No, I am not.”
“Are so.”
“Are not.”
“Are so.”
“Are not.”
“Are so.”
“Are—”
Cyrus was cut off by his cell phone ringing in his pocket. “Excuse me,” he said, secretly incredibly grateful to—he checked his caller id—Saturn for calling at that exact moment in time. “Hello?” he greeted, picking up the phone.
“Hey, uh, boss?”
“Yes, Saturn?”
“Um, I was wondering…what’s the best way to fix a broken leg?”
“To fix a broken what?!”
Cynthia looked up at him, a little shocked by his sudden outburst, but thankfully she didn’t write anything down in that accursed book of hers.
“Yeah, um, I fell down the stairs, and, er, no one’s at the base right now, and Mars didn’t pick up her phone, and my leg’s not really moving…”
“You absolute moron! Why didn’t you call an ambulance?!” Cyrus almost shouted into the phone.
“Well, I didn’t think…”
“Of course you didn’t,” he sighed. “Look, call an ambulance. I’ll be there in about ten minutes, got it?” At that moment, the head chef set a bag down in front of him, and Cyrus let out a sigh of relief. “Make it five,” he said.
“Thanks, boss.”
With that, Cyrus hung up, returned his Houndoom, and placed the bag of Poffins on his arm. “What was that?” Cynthia asked.
“One of my employees has gone and broken his leg,” said Cyrus, “and now I have to go help him before he breaks anything else.” He reached for his Honchkrow’s Pokéball and began towards the door.
Cynthia stared after him for a moment, then called out, “Concern, check!”
Cyrus whizzed around. “I’m not concerned!” he spat.
The Champion gave him a smug look. “Defensive, check.”
Cyrus felt his face go red again, though for some reason he wasn’t sure if it was really anger; then he turned and walked out the door, thoroughly through with Cynthia.
