That evening, Cyrus got up from his bed and slithered his way to the main dining hall of Team Galactic's HQ where he heard the excited chatter of the Grunts gathering and the intense discussions that the commanders had. It almost overwhelmed him, but this sense of camaraderie felt unusual, yet warm.

"Boss," Saturn yelled over the loud gossip, "you HAVE to see this!"

"See what?" Cyrus asked sceptically.

Upon seeing Saturn pull out his phone, Cyrus looked curiously and slightly tilted his neck.

"Saturn, what did you do?"

"Uhh," Saturn's voice trailed off. "You remember that one video I filmed of you playing with Weavile?"

"…please don't tell me you DIDN'T delete that video."

"I didn't delete it."

Cyrus sighed, a small cloud of icy air accompanying his exasperation. "Arceus' sake, Saturn, I told you specifically to DELETE the video. Why did you go against my orders?"

Saturn shifted uneasily. "I couldn't bear to delete it, so I decided to post it on the internet. I thought people would like it."

An awkward silence between Saturn and his draconic boss then occurred. Of course, he felt anxious and waited for the usual harsh discipline and punishments he received frequently. However, what happened instead was quite unexpected.

"Commander Saturn," Cyrus said calmly, "how many views does the video have?"

Saturn blinked. "How many views?"

"Yes."

Saturn pulled out his phone again and played the video.

"At the moment, Boss, it has ten thousand views and counting. Before you ask, I posted it this morning."

Cyrus was left speechless to the point where he felt his grey scales turn a ghostly white. "So you're telling me that you posted that video of me playing with Weavile and people love it?"

"Uhh, yeah." Saturn replied bluntly. "Everyone at Team Galactic loves it!"

Saturn pointed to a group of Grunts huddling and "aww"ing around a small phone that played the video, then turned back to Cyrus. "By everyone at Team Galactic, I mean everyone. I think you'll be more loved here!"

"That's nice." Cyrus said dryly. "In that case, I won't reprimand you, but I will give you a warning. Don't ever film me without my clear consent again, alright? It might not have turned ugly, but you didn't take into consideration how camera-shy I am. Don't repeat that mistake."

"Yes, Boss." Saturn replied obediently and went back to his seat.

At this point in time, the Grunts and commanders' chatter had diminished to a calm murmur. With the noise simmering down to an acceptable volume, Cyrus attempted to settle down in the chair he always used, but his snake-like body made what was supposed to be an easy action a struggle. After five minutes, he managed to stuff the three metres of his tail under the table and sighed in relief. From where he sat, he towered over everyone at Team Galactic and from the outside looking in, people could mistake him for a kind of weird Pokémon.

"So, how's your day been?" Mars asked, softly nudging Cyrus with her elbow, "Did you do anything cool?"

Cyrus shook his head. "Not particularly. I don't think there was anything noteworthy about it."

"That's nice. I heard it's gonna be hot tomorrow, so, uh, if you had any plans to go outside, then I guess that's out of the question."

"How hot is it going to be? Thirty degrees? Thirty five?"

"Fourty." Mars replied bluntly.

From that statement, Cyrus felt uncomfortable and nervous about the next day.

Later that evening, he stared at the Rotom-shaped lamp in silence. Almost immediately, he heard the sound of his Honchkrow's Pokéball opening. With a flutter of feathers, it perched itself on the lamp and stared at its trainer.

"Kraw raw?" it croaked.

"Honchkrow, is it still going to be hot tomorrow?" Cyrus asked.

"Kaw kraw-aw awr-kaw."

Cyrus quietly laughed. "Yeah, that makes sense. You still want to go outside?"

"Caw!"

With that, Honchkrow hopped onto its trainer's head and made an improvised nest out of his hair. Cyrus didn't mind. After all, his Honchkrow had been with him for years at this point, so this Pokémon nesting in his hair was a regular occurrence, even if it meant that he had to spend time brushing his hair more than once the next morning. For now, he didn't care about the bird's nest hair comments he would get tomorrow and drifted off to sleep, letting his tail relax and hang off the end of his bed.