Solomon’s feet stopped dead in their tracks at the girls request. He payed little mind to the newcomer who bumbled onto the scene, the girls friend that is. She was a fairly young thing by the looks of her. The one called Ange spoke not a word to him, something he typically preferred, all things considered. Her pokemon on the other hand, it was a bit more interesting. A Solosis, one of the few he had spied since starting this game. It would eventually evolve into the incredibly useful Reuniclus. Even without a Pokedex, he remembered that Pokemon well. Incredible special attack, but a tad slow. It would be a fearsome partner indeed as the girl progressed.
Why had he stopped? Solomon owed these people nothing. No time of day, even a passing glance. Perhaps it was the abruptness of it all. Her voice seemed to lodge itself in his head for a full second, as if the sound lingered. Turning to face her, he couldn’t help but notice the redness of her face. It almost looked like she had taken ill, could that even happen in this game? Why else would her face been ripe with the signs of blushing? Slowly, he slid his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. From his experience, it was always the pretty girls who were the meanest. The ones who beat the drum of his persecution alongside of whatever tormentor bested him that day. It wasn’t unlike the gladiators being spurred on by harlots on the sideline. He was the caged animal being led to the slaughter, his tormentors always having the physical advantage. What could this girl possibly want from him?
Without even realizing it, he braced himself for what was to come. Too nerdy, too quiet, too bland, he had even heard a girl refer to him as simply “meh”. If there was anything he resented more than being labeled as “meh” or uninspired, he could not think of it. Just because he didn’t cherish these shallow social constructs did not mean he was uninspired. As beautiful as the girl that stood before him was, it was never physical attraction that got him. He had never really felt attracted to any'body' before. There had been one who came as close as any. An anonymous writer on the internet, someone who had to put thought to type and expressed one of the most breathtaking thoughts on the human condition. It wasn’t the person he fell in love with, it was the words, the brain that spurred such thought, that he for once felt attraction. These devoid husks that people called bodies were simply an analog for what weighed roughly two pounds.
The question that came, however, was not what he had expected. It was mundane, almost simple in nature. In all reality, it was something she probably should have known. What was it he was supposed to do here? Didn’t social conventions dictate that one was to give their name also?
“My name is Solomon,” he looked at the older girl, completely ignoring the other one. Was it a trap? Surely it had to be. Such a simple question had to be a precursor to ridicule. “Technically, route 31 and then Violet City,” Solomon answered her hesitantly. “Supposedly Falkner is waiting there to be defeated. I’m on my way to oblige him.”