The next morning, a passing Grunt found Cyrus and Weavile sleeping in the kitchen, the fridge door slightly ajar. From the crumbs of food strewn on the floor, the Grunt simply dismissed his boss' endeavours as he and his Pokémon getting a simple midnight snack. Once he left the kitchen, Weavile woke up, its eyes bright with a shine of excitement. Poking a sharp claw into its trainer's soft and scaly stomach, it waited for Cyrus to wake up from his food-induced stupor. Eventually, Cyrus woke up and felt strangely refreshed.

"Weavile wea! Wea?" his Weavile asked excitedly.

Cyrus yawned and replied with a flat "strangely refreshed, thank you very much."

"Vile weav?"

"No, I don't believe I'll try and wrap my head over fixing the Pokédex."

"Wea?"

"Perhaps I've been working myself to the bone a lot. Say, Weavile, how about we take it easy today?"

Weavile nodded excitedly before Cyrus gently scratched it under the chin, making it purr.

Later, Cyrus curled up on his bed, leaving only his tail hanging at the edge. His tail moved from side to side hypnotically, yet casually, as his Weavile focused all its attention on the ice that coated the end of its trainer's tail. When the time came, it batted at the tail with its claws and soon enough, it and Cyrus were playing a sort of impromptu game, not realising that the bedroom door was slightly ajar. Still, Cyrus enjoyed his Weavile's company as it kept nibbling and chasing his tail. It made him smile, even if his Pokémon's bites did hurt for a minute.

Meanwhile, a group of Grunts and Saturn gathered around their boss' room as they watched him bond with his Pokémon, which was an unusual sight for them. No one had seen him engage in frivolous activities with his Pokémon. They had to keep in mind that this was the same man who disregarded emotions as a mere hindrance, regarded Pokémon as simply tools, preferred to keep a straight face at all hours of the day, mainly locked himself in his room, and didn't care for creating friendships with his Pokémon. Yet, here he was doing the absolute opposite of that! Everyone was utterly confused, yet endeared. What had gotten into him?

Cyrus then stared at the improvised entourage of people gathered around his bedroom in utter confusion. His Weavile also stopped batting his tail before tilting its head at the group curiously. A few Grunts waved and laughed sheepishly before leaving while others pretended to stare off into space.

"What are you all doing here? Commander Saturn, did you NOT discipline the grunts?" Cyrus asked, baffled.

"You, uh, left your bedroom door open." Saturn replied bluntly.

"…And?"

"I saw you playing with Weavile and told the grunts about that."

Cyrus was speechless, but didn't seem angry. Saturn continued on his little spiel.

"I may have also filmed you and showed your friends the video."

Silence then filled the room as Cyrus felt his icy grey scales turn a Tamato Berry-shaded red in embarrassment.

"I'll leave you be, Boss."

With that, Saturn corralled the group and walked away before giving his boss a sheepish smile, who responded with a dismissive snort. Weavile looked up at him uneasily, almost as if it was saying "you could've handled that situation better." Cyrus sighed and turned to his Pokémon.

"You're right. I shouldn't have handled that situation the way I did. I should've been more understanding."

Weavile only uttered a "Vile…" in agreement.

"I still feel embarrassed. Imagine being filmed in a state where you truly let yourself go in private, but you're unaware of multiple eyes watching your every move and seeing the side you don't show to anyone but yourself. How are people going to react to that?"

"Wea." Weavile shrugged.

"I know. I shouldn't worry about that. How about we focus our attention on something else? I'm thinking of making prosthetic legs for myself. I don't want to keep slithering on this tail. It's too intrusive for me."

With gusto, Cyrus unrolled some blueprint paper in one swift movement before grabbing a pencil and scribbling some potential ideas for prosthetic hind legs. At this present moment, his thoughts were full of what he wanted the legs to be. Did he want them to be digitigrade? Plantigrade? Reptilian? Humanoid? These thoughts ran through his head and soon enough, he looked at the options he drew up, the detailed sketches contrasting with the plain blue of the paper.

The prosthetic legs idea Cyrus had was an on and off plan he had been formulating since he was twenty-five and still, he had scrapped concepts, half-finished legs, and broken prototypes that would never see the light of day hidden in the deepest recesses of Team Galactic's HQ. Why did he want to create legs for himself? It was a simple answer: he lacked legs as a dragon, so he had to slither on three metres of tail, which he considered to be a terrible way to travel, so with his knowledge on machinery, he set out to create a set of legs to have a better way to travel.

"What legs do you think would be the best, Weavile?" Cyrus asked.

Weavile scanned the potential ideas before turning to its trainer and responding with an unsure "Vile…"

"I don't know either. I'm gravitating towards the reptilian digitigrade legs here, but what if I wanted to be bipedal? I'll probably go for the reptilian plantigrade legs because they seem the easiest to create."

Cyrus then took another look at the sketches before he concluded with a single "I need someone else to help me with the prosthetic legs.", flipped through a book of contacts that lay on his bedside table, grabbed his phone, and dialled a familiar friend of his.

After a few moments of dialling, the friend picked up.