Nidoking

You stood at the register reading some dumb magazine you picked up, trying to find some way to pass the time as the clock ticked in the background and the noisy AC unit became white noise to sleep to. Another slow night at Wallas’ Gas & Stop, but when was it ever busy or not boring, let’s be real. Just as you were about to doze off, the bell just above the entrance chimes aloud and alerts you somebody has finally came in. You straightened up and looked toward the door and see a lumbering figure, a nidoking poke-folk walking over to the beverage area, his steps making the wooden floors creak and whine under his weight. You watched from afar as he gathered whatever he needed, and by looks you could tell he was just another trucker stopping by, but jeez it was a miracle he wasn’t the semi itself. Once he was finished, he trudged to the front counter and set down his medium, black coffee and a few bags of nuts and sunflower seeds for the road. He gazed down at you with a critical, dark eye before he smirked, his stubble noticeable as he leaned down a bit. “Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.. ‘Name’s Gus.” He introduced boldly as he even held out a calloused, sturdy hand expecting a handshake.