dave strider

[ For once, the video clicks on, instead of the poor network being flooded with obnoxious red text. Dave is lounging in a chair, behind a café table somewhere in Goldenrod, with a bubble tea in one hand. ]

Ladies. Strider needs a favour.

[ Why yes, he's talking to all of you. Or any of you, really. ]

I'm willing to offer a few hours of my time to the first pretty girl to lend me her Fly HM. Dinner, on me, anywhere in Goldenrod.

[ A beat. ]

Dinner on the table, actually. But I'll pay for it.

[ He flashes the briefest of grins, one eyebrow cocking up above his shades — ]

Clock's ticking.

[— and turns the feed off. ]

( private to Rose )