Prior to hiring you as the new receptionist to field new applicants hoping to face the Elite Four, Rika was the one managing it. Her body remembers how to get to the front desk like muscle memory. That’s how she justifies spending elaborate amounts of time there, leaning against it, flirting with you, and trying to look suave, instead of doing paperwork at her office.

You’ve got to be the prettiest girl in this whole building by a landslide, and you brighten up her whole day when she strolls through the doors. Sometimes she brings you coffee. Now she’s working up to inviting you out to dinner. “Hey, if anyone tries to give you trouble, just yell for good ol' Rika, okay? I’ll hear you and come running,” she says, giving you a dazzling smile.