66. [Video/Action for the Olivine Diner]
[They say the only city with food better than Goldenrod is Olivine.]
[But after those two (or was it three? The frantic digging of trenches and building of miniature barricades against the tides had made them rush past in a blur) days spent spitting out saltwater and getting dirty in the muddy spray of the 'line of fire', Heather was pretty sure that even the crappiest hot meal would taste like edible heaven.]
[The diner next to the Pokemon Center is small, crowded, and smells like wet Pokemon, but it's a nice respite from the last vestiges of the dying storm outside.]
[An UTTERLY filthy Cujo is lying under the table like an enormous slug, letting out groaning dog snores. Having done the bulk of Heather's digging himself (she couldn't exactly wield a decent shovel without popping the stitches on that arm), he's completely tuckered out after all that excitement. Now relatively dry and warm (though still muddy) and full of food that had been graciously provided by the diner's owner (on account of him being a "hardworking doggie, whozzagoodboy!"), Cujo was all too happy to just lie there and provide a nice footrest for his trainer's aching feet.]
[Heather, for her part, has her head down on the table when the feed comes on, although after an admonishing "Heather, you're getting mud on the tablecloth," from an off-screen Harry, she lifts it again with a groan.]
[As the camera turns, there's a dizzying spin of color, but a couple of glimpses of the fish and chips on the table-- and the sulking, muzzled-and-leashed Totodile sitting on one of the chairs. Then the focus settles on Heather's face. It's smudged as all hell and her hair has that wiry blown-away look that only someone who's been standing out in a stiff ocean wind can achieve.]
So yeah, uh...
For anyone who didn't take the Road Trip From Hell all the way up here to Olivine, in case you haven't heard it from somebody else yet, things are A-OK, looks like.
The weather's dying down and the ocean's receding.
... And, uh... stuff.
[Looking a little distracted for a second, she glances off-screen and mumbles.]
Hey Dad, can I borrow one of those notebooks for a sec? ... Thanks.
[There's a brief rustle of paper as she takes something from the other side of the table an uncaps a pen with her teeth, tucking the cap up in the corner of her mouth. There's sounds of scribbling as she continues to talk, her eyes looking down at something below the screen.]
So anyway... once the rain's all gone, Dad'n I might take off again... There's no way we're gettin' on that stupid bus, though. I think I prefer taking a hike to trying to cheat death every time something big enough to crash into comes into the windshield's view...
But yeah, uh, in the meantime, if any of you're still working out there, pack it up and come try this diner out, the french fries are awesome.
And I kinda wanna see how many people can pack into this place before it explodes.
[And with her usual cheeky smirk, she waves a bandaged hand gingerly at the camera and ends the feed there.]
[Once she tucks the 'Gear back into her bag, she leans back in her seat, looking down at her notepad. The diner's so cheerfully noisy that probably only those directly nearby, whoever they may be, can hear what she mumbles to herself.]
So... guess Johto has gods, after all.
[But after those two (or was it three? The frantic digging of trenches and building of miniature barricades against the tides had made them rush past in a blur) days spent spitting out saltwater and getting dirty in the muddy spray of the 'line of fire', Heather was pretty sure that even the crappiest hot meal would taste like edible heaven.]
[The diner next to the Pokemon Center is small, crowded, and smells like wet Pokemon, but it's a nice respite from the last vestiges of the dying storm outside.]
[An UTTERLY filthy Cujo is lying under the table like an enormous slug, letting out groaning dog snores. Having done the bulk of Heather's digging himself (she couldn't exactly wield a decent shovel without popping the stitches on that arm), he's completely tuckered out after all that excitement. Now relatively dry and warm (though still muddy) and full of food that had been graciously provided by the diner's owner (on account of him being a "hardworking doggie, whozzagoodboy!"), Cujo was all too happy to just lie there and provide a nice footrest for his trainer's aching feet.]
[Heather, for her part, has her head down on the table when the feed comes on, although after an admonishing "Heather, you're getting mud on the tablecloth," from an off-screen Harry, she lifts it again with a groan.]
[As the camera turns, there's a dizzying spin of color, but a couple of glimpses of the fish and chips on the table-- and the sulking, muzzled-and-leashed Totodile sitting on one of the chairs. Then the focus settles on Heather's face. It's smudged as all hell and her hair has that wiry blown-away look that only someone who's been standing out in a stiff ocean wind can achieve.]
So yeah, uh...
For anyone who didn't take the Road Trip From Hell all the way up here to Olivine, in case you haven't heard it from somebody else yet, things are A-OK, looks like.
The weather's dying down and the ocean's receding.
... And, uh... stuff.
[Looking a little distracted for a second, she glances off-screen and mumbles.]
Hey Dad, can I borrow one of those notebooks for a sec? ... Thanks.
[There's a brief rustle of paper as she takes something from the other side of the table an uncaps a pen with her teeth, tucking the cap up in the corner of her mouth. There's sounds of scribbling as she continues to talk, her eyes looking down at something below the screen.]
So anyway... once the rain's all gone, Dad'n I might take off again... There's no way we're gettin' on that stupid bus, though. I think I prefer taking a hike to trying to cheat death every time something big enough to crash into comes into the windshield's view...
But yeah, uh, in the meantime, if any of you're still working out there, pack it up and come try this diner out, the french fries are awesome.
And I kinda wanna see how many people can pack into this place before it explodes.
[And with her usual cheeky smirk, she waves a bandaged hand gingerly at the camera and ends the feed there.]
[Once she tucks the 'Gear back into her bag, she leans back in her seat, looking down at her notepad. The diner's so cheerfully noisy that probably only those directly nearby, whoever they may be, can hear what she mumbles to herself.]
So... guess Johto has gods, after all.