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Old September 30th, 2012 (10:22 AM).
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doge doge is offline
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Join Date: Oct 2011
Location: massachusetts
Age: 19
Gender: Male
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Fiona Cole

The warm touch of the ground beneath her feet felt sensational. It was cool enough not to burn your feet and it was warm enough to give you this nice little comfy feeling. Now, bare feet wasn't necessarily Fiona's choice of walking, but her moccasins were absolutely killing her. Halfway through she had taken them off and gave them to Doduo, who was holding them in his mouths. She pulled out a towel from her satchel with her free hand and wiped the bits of sweat from her face. Fiona was lucky enough to barely have broken a sweat from the run, which was rare. Usually, her face would be pouring with gross, disgusting moisture which would often lead to a long, cold shower.

She took a look down at the Growlithe's ball. He was still in somewhat pain, but he was no longer rolling around like he was on fire. That would be ironic wouldn't it? Disregarding that crappy joke, Fiona shoved the towel back into her bag, deep down at the very bottom.

Fiona pushed open the center doors, or tried to at least, rushing in rather awkwardly. Her Doduo followed in foot. She quickly returned him to his ball and placed it to her strap, there was really no need for him to be out here right now. The thud of her moccasins hitting the ground reminded her about them, she had nearly forgotten Doduo was carrying them. Picking them up in a hurry, she hurried over to the counter desk, totally ignoring a nasty bit of saliva stuck to one end of the shoe. She hadn't even taken a look yet at her surroundings, and she would regret it.

Hitting something, or someone, hard, she dropped her footwear out of surprise and from the impact. A gasp escapes from a nearby person, as others begin to talk, creating quite a clamor of noise. What was going on? And who was this oaf just standing smack dab in the middle of the pokémon center. She had an injured, possibly half-blind, pokémon that needed help! Half of her just wanted to shove him out the way, but that might've lead to a rather unpleasant outcome.

"Hey, mister! Can you m-"

The man turned around, she couldn't really see his expression behind his black glasses, but she assumed it wasn't a pleasant one. He was bald, which oddly gave him a familiar presence. A brown vest, black trousers, a silver belt and boots. All this clown needed was a damn cowboy hat to complete his outfit. Then she recognized who it was. She gulped, as she recounted the story of the gym leaders going astray. It was Blaine, the Cinnabar gym leader.