008. Shackles
"Weren't as easy to give away as Fearow, eh, buddy?"
Bolted to the floor, Tyranitar growls, straining his eyes to glare at his master. The man shakes his own chains and the sound seems to calm the beast for the moment.
"At least ten grand lost and all thanks to those fools and their Meowth." He runs a hand through his green hair. "Imbeciles…giving up their pokémon."
Those eyes send tiny pricks into his skin.
"What? Like I'd leave you for anything," he says, nudging Tyranitar's nose with his boot.
An affectionate nuzzle is not dulled by thin prison bars.