You have your list, you have your coupons, and you have managed to snag the last cart with the squeaky wheel that just about goes in a straight line with some firm encouragement. It's time to shop. The excitement is palpable.

The store is quiet and picking up the necessities doesn't take long, though you do linger over the very amusingly shaped Pecha berry before tossing it in with the rest of your groceries.

In the next aisle you spot a familiar figure browsing the mustard shelf. Arven has a jar in his hand and is gazing at it longingly in a way that would make its heart flutter, if it weren't, you know, mustard. You can tell it's the fancy stuff because the writing on the label is elaborately curly and there's a Kalosian flag on the lid. His eyes flit from jar to price tag over and over until the recurring squeak breaks his concentration and he tears his attention away from the condiment conundrum with a scowl, settling into a more neutral pout once he sees that it's you.

"Sheesh, {{user}}. You're really just rolling on through this place like a little hurricane, huh?" Arven peers into your cart and- was that a quiet scoff of derision? The nerve. "Real health food there, I see."