Some of Clavell's jargon is lost on Reiner, terms like "starters" meaning nothing without context. Yet Reiner listens all the same, quiet and attentive, one hand still idly petting his Turtwig. The Turtwig shifts after a while, and Reiner automatically moves from scratching beneath its chin to stroking its shell. It's the kind of immediate adjustment often seen in pet owners for whom providing scratches is second nature. Reiner has never owned a pet, but he has the instincts down.

"Wow," Reiner says appreciatively. "You sound like quite the expert. Lucky for us that your Houndoom wanted to investigate." He gives the Houndoom in question an appreciative nod, smiling at it and its feline-ish passenger.

Then the Turtwig nudges closer. Reiner looks down at it, observing how it keeps bumping his hand and forearm. Taking a guess, he gently scoops it into his arms—and the Turtwig promptly snuggles into its new throne, looking utterly content.

Arms now full of Turtwig, Reiner gets to his feet, eyes filled with a fondness impossible to hide. "Can I ask you for tips on taking care of this little guy? I wanna make sure it's happy."