AN: Another drabble I wrote as an RP audition! Thorton is my main muse when I RP, and I had a lot of fun writing this.
After an RP a while ago, I've started pairing Thorton up with a little Wurmple — Thistle! He's still technically wild and just vibes in Thorton's satchel. He's a very polite worm.
Thorton I headcanon as living in a private office in the Battle Factory? Small room that he crammed a desk, dresser, and cheap futon into. So this room? Tiny and cramped.
Leave a review if you enjoyed this!
"Thistle," A slightly nasally voice spoke up from the bed, "Look. There is a 17.2% chance of additional snow today." The teen wrapped his blanket further around himself with one hand, eyes shifting from the ceiling to the little Wurmple sitting on his dresser, perched in a little 'bed' made of old cloths. "Which means that the ambient air temperature in the arena will be hovering anywhere between 19.2 and 20.7 degrees Celsius." Gripped in his free hand was a peculiar machine, not much larger than a phone, half lidded eyes shifting between it and his Pokémon, scanning over the numbers that the device spat out.
Thorton gave a quiet grunt as he stretched, pulling off his blanket and hauling himself out of bed and over to his wardrobe. "I estimate… anywhere from 17.5% to 25.5% humidity given the conditions," he set down his device on the dresser top, peering over at it as he dressed himself, unable to take his attention off of the machine. In his little nest of cloths, Thistle sat quietly the entire time, slowly turning his head to follow Thorton's motions but not moving much beyond that. "Drier ambient humidity means that fire type moves will be –" he cut himself off as he pulled up one of his socks, hopping back on his opposite leg as he yanked the fabric up past his knee. " – be more effective."
Grabbing his clip-on tie and looping it around the collar of his waistcoat, Thorton continued his one-sided rambling to his worm, "You know, due to there being less moisture in the air and all. So remind me to add that to my calculations when I face challengers today, okay?" He glanced down to the bug type briefly, half expecting a response, though the little Wurmple only responded with staring. "...Okay. Note to self, remind myself to add that to my calculations." He then turned his attention to the mirror above his wardrobe, looking at the messy black hair that somewhat covered his eyes. A peculiar haircut, admittedly, green crew cut with a mess of longer, undyed hair in the front. A hand reached for his hair gel, "Anyways – in terms of the effects of the weather on our visitors…"
"I expect an estimated 38% decrease in foot traffic today as opposed to this day one week ago, given the conditions," he ran a comb through the front of his hair, using the comb to hold it up while he worked a bit of gel through it. "However, I anticipate challengers getting on average 17.3% further in the Factory today." Slicking his hair up and back, he repeated the same motions – pull it up, gel, then slick it back – though this time sweeping it around the side of his head. Wiping his hands off on one of the many rags he kept lying around, Thorton leaned over and grabbed his satchel from beside the door.
Tightening the straps of it around his waist and clicking the buckle together in the front, the Factory Head double checked to make sure it was fastened properly before he wrapped two hands around Thistle's midsection, lifting the bug up. A smile came over his face as the Wurmple gently swayed its head from side to side, a sign of contentment as he reached around, setting the bug type down in his bag. "Anyways – it is currently…" A glance at his analysis machine as he pulled it off the dresser, "8:17."
Slipping the device into his satchel – being careful not to bump his little friend – Thorton clapped his hands together. "Which means that it's time to start the day!"