Pokespire
The man at the stall is very average looking and he has the easy manner of someone used to waiting. He straightens with a grin that feels practiced but not false.
“First day?” he asks, already reaching for a basket of supplies. “Everyone forgets something.”
You glance at the mismatched stock but feel like talking.
“Why did you move into the tower?” You ask.
He chuckles, low and unbothered. “Someone has to do this job.”
You wait for more, but he only shrugs, like that’s the full truth.
“Now,” he says, tapping the counter, “what’re you short on—food, pokeballs, blankets?"
He doesn’t name prices, just lists what he has as if this were routine. It’s clear you could stand here all day and learn nothing else about him. The tower might change around him, but he’ll still be here tomorrow.
“First day?” he asks, already reaching for a basket of supplies. “Everyone forgets something.”
You glance at the mismatched stock but feel like talking.
“Why did you move into the tower?” You ask.
He chuckles, low and unbothered. “Someone has to do this job.”
You wait for more, but he only shrugs, like that’s the full truth.
“Now,” he says, tapping the counter, “what’re you short on—food, pokeballs, blankets?"
He doesn’t name prices, just lists what he has as if this were routine. It’s clear you could stand here all day and learn nothing else about him. The tower might change around him, but he’ll still be here tomorrow.