Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or any of its characters.
Pretty Please?
You realize that he stopped walking a while ago. You turn and see him standing a little while back, not moving, as if rooted on the spot. Curious, you call out to him, telling him to hurry up.
He doesn't answer, a silent statue in the middle of the road.
Now slightly annoyed, you ask him again, wanting an answer.
At first, he still refuses to reply. You suspect that he's readying his strike, his attack. Like a snake hidden in the grass, sharpening its fangs for its prey. Or in other words, you.
He gives a little whine, chocolate brown eyes immediately melting into your own.
Knowing what this is about, you shake your head.
When you aren't complying to his wishes, he whines louder, latching onto your arm, shaking it a little, tugging it insistently.
Retaliating with a frown, you shrug him off your arm, brushing him off like it had no effect on you.
For his offense, he digs his feet hard into the ground, stubbornly glaring at you, mouth almost curled in unhappiness.
The pout of doom, you dub it.
It's like watching a little child. Only it seems a thousand times worse.
He continues to glare, something between a scowl and whine written across his mouth.
There was something of a war going on between the two of you. No fists flying. No bullets soaring. No curses spoken. Yet.
On your side, you have reason, sense and logic. To counter, he has nonsense, lunacy and irrationality.
Most people would have went to your side. Like that would stop him. He was a one-man army by his own right. Able to take down any force, challenge and opposition if he put his mind to it.
Finally, you relent. Better to have him as an ally than an enemy, you decide. From your pocket, you withdraw the last cookie left in your possession.
Instantly, his frown flips upside down as he leaps towards your offering hand. Before you know it, it's already halfway in his mouth. He munches happily on it, crumbs peppering his mouth and front.
It was too quick for a normal person to notice, but you could swear you saw an impish glint in his eyes, as he finishes his cookie with relish and satisfaction, knowing he cornered you and manipulated you exactly where he wanted.
You sigh.
You're not the only one who knows he has you wrapped around his little pinkie finger.