"Close the door behind you!" yelled Drew, a Hitmonchan. Driscoll rolled his eyes and slowly shut the door. Outside, there was a blizzard raging, but the crackling fire and the small and comforting space of the pub warmed his cold fingers.
"Where's Darrel?" the Hitmonlee said, while he pulled up a stool at the counter. Drew shrugged and continued to clean mugs, "Well how about business? Did you get some more customers?"
"Eh… a couple." chuckled Drew while opening his cupboard and taking out a glass, "What do you want, a Leppa Berry Cocktail or a Vodka and Pecha Berry?" Stretching back, Driscoll let out a little laugh.
"I'm fine, thank you." He shot a glance out the frost encrusted window, the wind was picking up and you could barely see out of it. Drew raised an eyebrow at an odd shape outside.
"Do you see that?"
"See what?"
"That!" Drew exclaimed, pointing his gloves to the shadow. "It's coming towards us!" Driscoll stood up and strode towards the door. As he reached for the handle, the wooden panels started to rattle like a skeleton's bones. Then, like a flash, the door swung open and white snowflakes caked the floor, blowing Driscoll onto his behind. In the doorframe stood a figure.
"Give me," snarled the creature, "some tap water…" He stood there, not moving and staring dead strait at Drew. Sweat gathered on the Punching Pokemon's head.
"Still or sparkling?" he murmured, with a worried smile. The stranger spat on the floor, right in front of Driscoll. It took a step forward and revealed itself to be a Bisharp, wearing a ragged cloak. Driscoll scrambled to his feet and backed away, slinking back towards the bar. The Bisharp took another step and Drew ducked underneath the counter.
"Why are you so scared? I believe you have a type advantage" he purred, "Do you want to know my name?" The two Fighting Types remained silent, faces of pure terror plastered their faces. Their guest smirked, and reached into his cloak.
"If he has a gun, run like crazy." whispered Driscoll and Drew gave a nod, but turned a pale tan colour. Bisharp took out his wallet, a fine leather and silk design. The Hitmons relaxed a little, but still didn't say anything.
"My name is Heath, and I need a place to stay for the night…" He stopped mid-sentence and then said, "And a glass of tap water." Driscoll, sighing in relief, muttered a quick apology to Heath and went to sit in the armchair by the fire, head in hands. Heath stared at Drew.
"I'll show you to your room."
