[So there's an eight year old Silver running around. Sure, he went home for a week- or what was three years back at home- but now he's back.
And he's pretty beat up. Big scrapes and bruises, a few sharp cuts on his arm, etc. But he's ignoring that and the fact that he's on the island in favor of something else
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What're you doin', little guy?
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Leaf.
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... ...Oh. He's... Back on the island...?]
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Still, that was observation for you. Hmm.
She'll remain a little out of the way for now, though he's likely to see her eventually.]
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BIRD WHAT ARE YOU DOING???
my pair of fatpidgey and i look distinctly concerned!]
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FUCK YOU I'M A BIRD, WING ATTACK
QUICK ATTACK!
MIRROR MOVE MOTHERFUCKER
...Damn bird...]
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[BIRD PLEASE LISTEN TO ME?]
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FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT]
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[Lecturing would ensue, but the boy has taken notice of the other kid.]
...You're doing it wrong.
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Precision. You lack it.
[The boy kneels down, lifting up a layer of the exterior of the tank. It's like that of a Nintendo 64, only with a keyboard. Genesect types rapidly at the blank keys, the cannon slowly directs itself at Sneasel.]
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Yeeeep, that's a good cue to flee without a second thought.]
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