The man who appeared took his time. He flexed his fingers, glanced around his feet, where his bare feet threatened to crush the inexplicably bubbling beakers perched on mountains of books. His reflection greeted him from the surface of what looked to be the outer casing of a deep fryer repurposed into a fax machine.

His brows rose, and it was mirrored in kind.

Dr. Bunya’s voice called his attention, and the man’s eyes brightened. “You are a doctor?” Chuckling, he maneuvered through the rubble, having to catch falling books and beakers as he went. He was clearly unaccustomed to having this build, but strangely careful with it—trying in vain to avoid staining its carefully designed lapels.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Bunya. I don’t know what a ‘nyewb’ is, but I am here for my first Pokémon.” For however much the doctor resembled a stray, the man didn’t appear perturbed. If anything, he seemed inclined to procure treats. His avatar’s pockets were, unfortunately, quite empty for the moment.

He took a seat on—he’s not quite certain. His office typically had seating in front of his desk in a nice symmetrical fashion, but here, he couldn’t tell what was a table, a chair, or a platform for spontaneously ejecting knickknacks. Sitting down was a fun little gamble.

“I’m happy to answer any questions from an expert in a monocle.” He gestured with a hand. “Fire away, doctor.”

“How do I get the attention of someone I’m interested in?” Rook blinked. “That… is a very good question. Let me get back to you on that.”

The second question was easier—sillier. He snorted at the image of a literal dessert island, a logistical Wonka nightmare that not even his most ambitious venture capitalist friends would try. “Would my nutritionist count? If he fails to keep me from a death by diabetes, he’ll know how and where to bury me.” He hummed. “Under a licorice tree, or wherever has the most scenic candy bushes.” He would not bring any of his nieces and nephews to such a cruel (yet delicious) fate.

The third question was strangely the most logical question. He waited a little longer, and when Bunya failed to mention exactly what car she had, decided to do his own estimates. “A Charmeleon is around the size of a 4-year-old, so a little more than 35 pounds. If you have a non-flammable car the size of a Honda Accord, you could theoretically fit 24 whole Charmeleons there without disrupting the vehicle’s performance. Of course, if you have a bigger vehicle, such as a Jeep Wrangler, you’ll fit more—perhaps 40 before seeing changes.”

The edges of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “And if neither apply because you have, say, a catmobile, then you should contact your manufacturer about your warranty and see if it applies to accidents caused by fire lizards.”

After a quiet laugh, Rook appeared to think. “As for how I would get the attention of someone I’m interested in…” He seemed a little wistful. Smiling bitterly as he thought of someone. “I would obtain something they wanted.”

He sat back. “For you, I’m guessing... Bluefin tuna?”

He looked amused seeing the doctor’s reception of his ‘calculations’. Based on the glimpse he got of the scribble-laden sheet, there was the slightest chance he’d be seeing a catmobile full of Charmeleon one of these days. He looked forward to it.

Bunya reappeared, tossing over a ball he was surprised to catch. The motor controls of his avatar were quicker than those in real life—perhaps because it wasn’t much affected by fatigue and ailments. And healed over fractures.

The name Rowlet was unfamiliar, but he smiled at Bunya and her big cat eyes nonetheless. “Thank you. I don’t have any tuna on me right now, but I’ll be sure to bring some the next time I visit.” Was there a tuna equivalent for Pokémon? Magikarp was—well, a carp, but surely after nine generations, there would be at least one tuna.

The Rowlet that popped out of the ball landed now sat perched on a pile of books. It had a round little body and a big green bow made of leaves. “How cute,” Rook said.

<Mind yourself, that is not how you greet an equal,> huffed the owl.

“Ah.” It became quickly apparent what he was dealing with. “Salutations, then. I was curious to see how my partner would react to endearment, I hadn’t expected such a refined individual. You have been trained?” He offered his arm.

<I am learned.> The owl snapped, but not wanting to reinforce what were clearly unchecked biases, held back on actually pecking, and instead climbed up the man’s arm with his beak held high.

Rook smiled as he watched the little critter waddle its way to his shoulder. “I see. Then a scholar such as yourself deserves a worthy nickname.” He remembered always naming his Pokémon as a child. He rubbed his chin in thought. “Something prestigious. Perhaps from a famous figure of the past. Aloysius, Euclid, Tiberius…”

The Rowlet was puffing up even bigger with every lathered praise. <Exactly. Name me after the greats! None of your human names can encompass the magnitude of my potential, but perhaps Tiberius—>

“Tibbles it is.”

<What.>

Rook turned to Bunya. “He’s perfect. I’d love to—” <How DARE you! After gracing you with my presence—> “—have him with me—” <You insult me with your disgusting, childish little names—> “—on my journey. And I promise to take—” <Tibbles! Articuno above! Tibbles! You filthy animal—> “—very good care of him.”

He had a hand raised in front of his face to keep Tibbles from plucking out his eyeballs, smiling serenely as he waited for Bunya to show him out while his partner continued squawking directly in his ear.