Fucking Christ.

So the bare, bare basics of Pokemon was known to him. You got these little guys, you catch them in balls, you make them fight. He did know there was some smart person who gave you your first one. A professor or something. Wasn't completely sure, but knew that much. He swore the one in the actual games (actual games, like this wasn't an official game) it was some old man that seemed to have his shit together. Not... not whatever the hell was going on here.

Damn not even his shop looked this bad, and it wasn't like Owen—wait fuck, Harley, was that messy.

He blinked twice at the small... doctor, this lady was a doctor? Damn they just let anyone be one nowadays huh? "Uh you sure you're a...?" Harley's gaze looked towards the back, where he could see the gleaming red and white balls that were a trademark of the series. Couldn't he just... pick one? He really had go to through a damn questionnaire?

"... Ah fuck it, fire." Let's see what the little lady had to say.

Okay, he could answer these. He was half expecting some sort of legit exam, and Harley damn well knew he was going to fail if that was the case. "One part vinegar and two parts water. Let it sit there for uh... like ten minutes? Wipe it off. Should get most of it out. Lemon juice works too if you don't got vinegar."

Thank Mom for those little hacks, teaching him when he was younger. Always said that she wasn't gonna raise a boy that couldn't do his laundry. A tsk was his response to the second question. He didn't read too much as a kid; at least typical books. He could always be found at the magazines while his parents stood in line to buy groceries with his hands on the newest issue of Cycle World. "Uh... I do remember reading Huckleberry Finn in school and enjoyed it." Because of course he was drawn to the story of a boy escaping and traveling. "Hated writing a report on it though."

"And you ain't holding any up. Nice try."

There was something oh so sweet about about his reflexes working as they should. He caught the Pokeball in a single hand, just like he was catching the softball his friends played after school. It took Harley on a few moments to read what the tape said.

Oh thank fuck it was something he recognized.

Squirtle was actually his favorite of the three. Bulbasaur always looked weird to him, and Charmander was always cool, but there was something about Squirtle that drew him in. Maybe it was just because he liked turtles. Neat little fellas. This guy was just blue. Honestly, considering he didn't know shit about Pokemon beyond the first generation, this was the best one he could have gotten. Okay so maybe the nutjob for a doc knew what she was doing. Method to the madness or whatever they called it.

"Thanks Doc." If he had a hat, he would tilt it to her. She would just have to accept the wave as he walked on out, casually tossing the ball into the air and catching it.