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[color=#b7353a]Sαɯყҽɾ[/color][/h1]
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[color=#b7353a]"And don't come back before you learn some fucking manners!"[/color] Sawyer roared from the door of his house, slamming the side of his fist into a wall hard enough for it to reverberate - and probably sting for days to come. Next to him, Antagonist the Obstagoon held up a middle finger in solidarity, barking mockingly after a couple of fleeing reporters. One of them glanced over his shoulder to make sure they weren't pursued, only to nearly trip over his colleague. Another cradled the remains of an expensive camera, while a third was busy spouting nonsense into a mic. Something about escaping a life or death situation. Exaggerating bastard.

[color=#b7353a]"Goddamn pests..."[/color] Sawyer hissed past gritted teeth, body still ablaze with adrenaline. He could still catch them, the redhead  realized, if he started to sprint right now. Fuckers weren't made for running. But... actually beating those little shits up would just give them something to write a story about, and he didn't want to be caught dead helping them earn a penny.

So, instead, he sighed and rolled his shoulder. [i]Goddamn [/i]his fist stung. [color=#b7353a]"The nosy fuckin' fans I can handle, somehow,"[/color] he sighed as he walked back inside, giving his Obstagoon a light punch on the shoulder for his help.[color=#b7353a] "But the paparazzi? Fucking parasites. What they're hopin' to find here of all places... fucking wild. Must be desperate for news."[/color]

Or maybe they caught wind of his and Hestia's little break in earlier on in the week. Sawyer didn't know - he'd hardly given the paparazzi time to open their mouths. How they had the nerve to come knocking so loudly during nap time when the sign outside clearly told everyone to[i] keep fucking quiet, [/i]he still had no idea. Selfish assholes.

Sawyer closed the door, resisting the urge to slam it. He'd already been way too loud himself.

[color=#b7353a]"Sorry 'bout that, y'all,"[/color] he mumbled in a far softer tone, eyes traveling over the sea of little Pokémon at his feet. Some looked startled by the interruption, some were still half-asleep, and a few looked as ready and willing to join the fray as Sawyer. [color=#b7353a]"You can go back to sleep now. Here, lemme read you a lil somethin'."[/color]

He'd just settled down to read some of Goldilocks and the Three Teddiursa, when Stewart tapped at his shoulder. Sawyer looked over. [color=#b7353a]"What? I'm kind of in the middle of--"[/color]

Stewart held up his phone. It was on silent as was normal during nap time. On the screen, big bold letters indicated an incoming call from 'Old Fucker'. Hyacinth.

[color=#b7353a]"Ugh."[/color] Sawyer had half a mind to just ignore the call and go about his day. But he couldn't deny being morbidly curious whether the old coot actually had some news regarding the kidnapping, so... [color=#b7353a]"Fine, here, you continue."[/color] He exchanged book for phone and made sure to walk out of earshot of his wards. [color=#b7353a]"Yo. What's--"[/color]

It wasn't Hyacinth. It was one of his poor, overworked secretaries, and he was in [i]panic[/i]. A few minutes later, so was Sawyer. [color=#b7353a]"They have what!? Wait, wh- fuck it, I'll be there. In five."[/color]

He wasn't there in five, but as fast as Monarch's wings carried, anyway. He practically jumped off her back the second it was at all plausible to do so, running towards the scene with two pokéballs between his fingers. [color=#b7353a]"Oi!"[/color] He shouted upon approach, trying to take in the scene and whoever else was there, [color=#b7353a]"What the[i] fuck's [/i]going on here?!"[/color]
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