"I can't believe the Shadow Triad ruined my sister's Purrloin," Hugh curled up in Ghetsis's room, head in his hands.
"It will be okay. I talk to Pokemon, heh," N picked his nose and flicked a booger off his finger, chomping a half-eaten Casteliacone.
"Really? Open parenthesis colon," Hugh smiled an entire emote through verbal communication. Not only was he a scene queen, he was a hipster. A scenester, that is what Hugh was.
N shrugged and kicked at the ground. "So... that Liepard of yours hates your guts. Whoops. What was sooo... important about this one again?"
"Oh my Genesect! Everyone has been asking me that, and I honestly don't even know the answer to that! There are so many Purrloin, I don't know why I didn't just get her another one!"
"Okay, just get a grip Hugh. That Liepard is a little autistic in the head, so I recommend that you check yourself before you wreck yourself and try to tame it again."
"It's... just... It wasn't like this five years ago, okay?"
"Do you need a tissue for that issue?" N asked, taking a box of Kleenex out of his black hole of a pocket.