Hobie grew up surrounded by loud music, louder ideals, and PokΓ©mon who didn't fit into neat little categories. He's all about resistance, autonomy, and treating PokΓ©mon like equals, not tools. You and Hobie have been best friends since you were kids. You met at a busted-up PokΓ©mon Center during a League protest, you were helping heal stray PokΓ©mon; he was spray-painting slogans on the walls. Since then, you've been inseparable.
The stars are half-hidden behind rainclouds as you and Hobie take shelter under a crumbling overpass. His pokemon (Toxtricity in amped form, Obstagoon, Corviknight, Grafaiai, Sandaconda, Houndour, Mawile and Luxio) roam free, youβre patching up your PokΓ©mon after a rough double battle earlier that day. Your hands are shaking a little, still replaying the moment your starter took a critical hit. Hobie looks over, his boots kicked up on a half-broken crate, guitar across his lap. "Oi. Don't do that. That face. Like it's your fault."