Alistair blinked as he materialized into the starter lab, already unsure what to expect, and... well, it wasn't this. He was all too familiar with mad science labs, but this was a slightly different sort than he was used to. Understandably, the first thing he noticed was the clutter- Things piled high from floor to ceiling, something dripping and hissing in the background of the professor's(?) muttering.

He took a small step back to get his bearings a little better- and thus the second thing he noticed was that he was barefoot. Because he had stepped in something. He hissed between his teeth, picking up a foot and twisting a little delicately to look- some unidentifiable ooze that was dripping from further up a stacked tower, and pooled behind him- now underneath one bare foot. "Hm," He said, grimacing, and deciding that wherever he'd been standing before was probably best for now- there weren't terribly many other places to go. He shook off his foot, all the world looking like an irritated cat before the ramblings of the professor seemed more presently directed at him.

"Alistair," He returned, inevitably looking at the small multitude of pokeballs- something like excitement prickling at him despite getting off (literally) on the wrong foot. It all felt so real- the sounds, the sights, (the smells)- and now-! He glanced back at Dr. Bunya as she seemed to panic for a moment. This was... not exactly the process Sarthor had described to him, but for better or worse Alistair was starting to smile- either in excitement or at the poor professor's... (doctor's?) demeanor.

"Right then, no problem," He replied as she said she'd just 'wing it', "Fire."

Alistair looked at Dr. Bunya blankly for a moment at her expectant stare, before discerning- oh. She. She wanted him to sit in the chair. Alistair's gaze flickered to the chair, draped in old lab coats and ... maybe just laundry; a few stray unidentifiable crumbs and ... receipts?... on the seat. And then to the floor, equally cluttered, no less hazardous. Bare feet. Bare feet! He knew he would need to get running shoes specifically but did they have to start with no shoes at all?

But he couldn't stand there all day (and would feel bad being more rude than his skeptical study of the chair had been). With the dignity of a long-suffering noble, Alistair delicately picked his way to the chair, brushing off what he could, and then sat, very carefully, on the edge of the seat.

"Nyat is your drink of choice?"

Not exactly something he'd prepped to answer, but at least not something terribly psychological- "Ah, you know, it kind of depends on the mood?" He admitted, "I'm a sucker for a good margherita, but if I had to pick just one drink? I'm definitely a wine guy," He tilted his head back at Dr. Bunya, almost subconsciously, musing along his decision- "A good syrah or a cabernet sauvignon? Something nice and dark."

As soon as he had answered, the next- "What's my favorite color?". "My favorite color is-" He began, before catching himself. "Wait, your favorite color?" He blinked. The lab was well, a lab (messy, so messy...); the only spots of color on her were little flashes of pink, "Ah... pink?" He asked her.

And then, the final question- "Do you have any nyallergies?"- "No, no allergies," He trailed off, perplexed at the process and setting- and extremely amused despite himself. Could people even have allergies here? Imagine, having a shellfish allergy in a video game that you didn't bring with you into reality.

Alistair caught the pokeball, his expression becoming one of anticipation and excitement, a smile tugging its way over his lips. He smoothed his thumbs over the tape with its neat labelling "S O B B L E" momentarily. Yes whatever, he was being paid to play the game as a certainly more cynical adult, but this was the summation of his imaginings as a child, wasn't it? The same excitement bubbled up regardless of anything else. Delicately, he depressed the circle, hearing the mechanism unlatch, the pokemon coalescing at his feet.

For a moment, it blinked up at him with liquid, dark eyes. Alistair smiled softly, "Hey there," he said quietly. He was a little surprised at himself, getting this emotional- feeling something like tears prick his eyes - luckily his throat wasn't tight or anything, his voice carefully soft. The sobble had held perfectly still, he figured it had to be a little scary meeting someone new for the first time. Its big eyes were still fixed on him. He made to reach slowly for them, to extend his hand to sniff- and that was the moment he realized he'd very much misread the body language of the little pokemon.

The instant his hand moved, the salamander-like creature hunkered down, pupils blown wide, opening its mouth in a rather threatening and defensive display. Alistair's vision immediately blurred with tears. Nope. Not crying. This was a sobble. It was making him cry as a defense mechanism. He jerked back, grimacing, forgetting his earlier reluctance to get near the clothes folded over the back of the chair. It hissed in response, spitting a little again as he wiped his eyes, "Hey, hey, it's okay." He tried vainly. He carefully maneuvered himself out of the chair without getting closer to the furious and frightened sobble, who still kept occasionally hissing and snapping its mouth at him.

He was reminded suddenly, of the skinny and fast little lizards of his childhood- green and tan with colorful throats who, when picked up would gape their jaws at their captor with all the fury and bluster they could summon- toothless and vicious. Wild creatures, petrified of loud and precious little boys. He wiped at his eyes again, reopening the pokeball to summon it back in- he was hoping it would instantly retreat to the place of safety but it actually dug its little claws into the lab tile for a moment before being pulled back in. Alistair felt the ball click back closed, and looked at it for a long moment before looking back at Dr. Bunya.

"Hm," He said, making a decision in that moment. He could make an argument- hey, I don't think it likes me, and... invariably frighten the thing more when yet another stranger received it. He remembered bringing home Coo for the first time- skinny, undernourished city pigeon- flailing at him with ratty wings with all the power in his ragged body; convinced Alistair meant him harm. A note of fondness and finality settled over him. "Thank you, Dr. Bunya. I'll do my best to earn his trust."