Later that evening, Cyrus woke up to the sound of his Crobat's wings flapping loudly. Rubbing the sleep from the corners of his eyes, he blinked once, twice, at the 1.8 metre tall bat staring at him with a pleading expression. It was then that Cyrus realised: he forgot to feed it.
"Bat! Cro crobat!" his Pokémon reprimanded.
"You're hungry, aren't you?" Cyrus replied before getting out of the bed. "Alright, I guess it's time for your dinner, Artist."
Crobat chittered happily. Its trainer only just thought of giving it a nickname, that being Artist, so hearing its trainer call it that made it happy. Following Cyrus to the kitchen, it eagerly waited for its dinner to be served.
"Sorry for missing the required feeding time, Artist. I hope this makes up for the tardiness." Cyrus said, gently putting a bag of blood and a cut Nanab Berry down where his Crobat liked to perch before grabbing a chair, sitting down, and telling his Crobat all about his day, who listened eagerly. At this point, it was WAY too late at night to still be awake and everyone else at Team Galactic had already gotten to bed, so the quiet atmosphere would be too alien for Cyrus had he not gotten used to it already.
"And I guess you could say that's how I spent my day. How about you, Crobat?" Cyrus finished before letting his Pokémon talk.
"Cro crobat bat ba-bat bat crobat!" Crobat chattered excitedly, gesticulating wildly with its four wings and ears before settling down with a final "Bat!" and climbing onto its perch.
"So, I've been developing some legs for myself and I just want your opinion on what kind of legs you think would suit me." Cyrus said after his Pokémon had finished its late dinner and dessert. In response, Crobat tilted its head curiously and merely uttered a confused "bat?"
"You're right. I don't believe I showed you the plans I had for the legs. For that, I apologise." Cyrus said while reflecting.
He then slithered his way back to his bedroom, his Crobat following him behind like a lost Poochyena, turned on the Rotom-shaped lamp, grabbed the blueprints he had made for the legs, and spread them out on his desk.
"These, Artist, are my plans for legs. Now, you might be asking yourself "but trainer, why do you need legs?" Simple. I need legs in order to walk normally, or as normally as I can manage in this state. So, I've drafted a couple of designs and structures and I want you to give your honest opinion, alright?" Cyrus explained, turning to his Crobat, expecting it to, well, give an honest opinion. Instead, it stared at its trainer in confusion before it flew off to its perch to sleep.
His Weavile then got itself out of its Pokéball and looked at Cyrus eagerly like it was a sort of apprentice.
"Vile!" it said, nodding and pointing a sharp claw at a sketch of some bipedal, digitigrade legs Cyrus had sketched.
"You think those would be stable enough for my body?" Cyrus asked calmly.
"Wea. Vile wea weavile vile!"
"I guess you do have a point. If I made myself digitigrade legs inspired by Pokémon like Garchomp, then the legs would be able to distribute my weight evenly. Tomorrow, Weavile, we're going to visit a friend of mine. In the meantime, I think I'm going to repair that Pokédex that has been the death of me for the last few weeks."
"Weavile!"
For the rest of the night and early morning, Cyrus managed to repair that Pokédex that had been frustrating him for nearly an eternity. Once that was done, he immediately set his attention to fixing an odd set of glasses, his sight guided only by lamplight and the Sinnohan skies brightening. By the time he finished, his room was flooded in a brilliant, shining kaleidoscope of reds, pinks, yellows, oranges, blues, and whites and his scales were also coated in these colours. A new day had begun. Looking drowsily at the alarm clock, its screen displaying "6:39am", he sighed, yawned, and collapsed on his bed alongside his Weavile.
Later that morning, the Grunts and Commanders that gathered in the dining hall were worried about what happened to their boss when they noticed his chair was empty. While they argued and gossiped, Saturn snuck out to his boss' room.
He gently knocked on the open door and whispered. "Boss? You, uh, good there?"
The only sound that could be heard was quiet snoring.
Saturn quietly entered the room and shook his boss' shoulder, waiting patiently.
Cyrus woke up again and groaned.
"Hey, did you get hit with Worry Seed again?" Saturn asked.
"Perhaps." Cyrus replied.
"Boss, you have to stop pushing yourself and staying up all night. It's unhealthy."
"Saturn, you know my sleeping schedule is sporadic and terrible."
"You DO know a lack of sleep can kill you much faster and destroy your organs, right?"
Cyrus had fallen asleep again and replied with a tired grunt, so Saturn got up from the bed, closed his door, and left. "Alright, get some sleep, Boss."