<sub>[The screen is slightly steamed up when it comes on, but it soon clears enough to give a shaky view of the ... bathroom floor, and part of a towel? It doesn't stay there, though. Instead, the focus seems to be (or is TRYING to be) on the football-sized black thing zipping across the floor and out of view.]

[Then the camera awkwardly turns to the face of its holder, who apparently just get out of the shower, judging by the way her hair is plastered down wetly around the sides of her face and the towel she's got wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak. Said shoulders are hunched. Apparently she's perched on the edge of the bathtub. No questionable steamy semi-nude shots from THIS girl, though-- this is SERIOUS BUSINESS, and Heather's voice is an odd mix between amused, proud, and exasperated.]</sub>

This is a Public Services Announcement about why you shouldn't let your Pokemon into the bathroom when they're about to level up even if they do like playing in all the water leftover after a shower.

Watch and be enlightened.

<sub>[The camera turns to the floor again as Heather slowly and methodically sticks one foot out and sets it down on the tile.]

[INSTANTLY and without any warning, the black thing comes streaking back onto the camera with the intention of violently attacking its trainer's toes with a long yellow beak and a volley of chittering squawks.]

[Heather yanks her foot up again with a small shriek and the Murkrow goes scuttling off behind the sink.]</sub>

See? SEE?

Here, I'll repeat the demonstration for anyone who may have missed that.

Everybody watching?

<sub>[She repeats the motion, this time putting both feet on the ground.]

[The attack-crow reappears, wings flared and beak wide-open. It squabbles and pecks around in circles around Heather's feet for a second or two before, once again, skittering off across the floor to hide in the bath curtains, tiny claws clicking on the tiles.]</sub>

I can't make it more than a couple of steps without getting Murkrow'd. I used to be able to outrun her, but now she's like an unstoppable toe-eating machine.

And all because of this.

_{[She presses a button on the 'Gear to make it repeat its last automated message. Which it does, in a cheerful computerized voice.]}

<sub>[You know when you wake up and you feel like there's a leaden weight sitting on your chest, stopping you from moving? Most of the time when that happens, it's because of sleep paralysis. Somewhat less of the time, it's a close encounter of the third kind. ... This time, however, it's a very large Furret curled up neatly in the middle of Heather's chest, taking advantage of the fact that her trainer both produces heat and is stationary and comfortable, AND of the fact that there is currently a brief moment in which nobody is looking over in this direction to shoo her away.]

[... Except that Heather's not going to be stationary much longer.]

[The first thing that happens that disrupts the vacant, sleeping stupor of Heather's face is a wince and a scrunched nose, because fluffy Furret tails are not the best things to have brushing up against your nostrils when you're coming out of a deep sleep.]</sub>

Nhngngnh...

<sub>[Ffffh what was-- what. Oh, ow. Opening eyes that haven't seen light in a good seven days kind of hurts. And trying to talk through a throat that hasn't made a single noise kind of hurts too, which is why all that Heather manages at first is a sort of croak.]

[But that croak is enough to get SOMEBODY'S attention.]

[From the foot of the bed, Cujo snorts into wakefulness from where he's been faithfully sleeping on his trainer's ankles. With a deep wuff, he surges to his feet and joyfully clambers over the blanketed body, stepping on Arty and causing her to vacate her perch atop Heather's chest with an indignant hiss, until he's standing over her with a great big doggy smile and a paw on either side of her.]

[Heather squints up at him, scrunching up her face. On one hand, the sight of those floppy orange ears and big black nose is one for sore eyes, but on the other... oh god does she not want to see a dog right now after the kinds of dreams she'd been having...]

[Coughing and lifting her arms weakly, she tries to shove him away long enough for her to get her bearings.]</sub>

Cooj, gimme some spac-- acklPHTHG OFF.

_{[No force in this world or any other could stop Cujo from greeting his favorite human being's return to wakefulness with lots of licking. Startled into a slightly more awake state, Heather makes a still-sleepy noise of disgust and shoves feebly at the Growlithe, scooting away.]}

Dammit, mutt, I mean i--

<sub>[Turns out, trying to slip out of bed after not moving for a week? Hurts, too. WHOMP. Face, meet hotel room floor. And possibly part of Henry's sleeping bag.]




[A few minutes later, presumably after proving sufficiently to her father that she's not DEAD, the feed clicks on, revealing a very, very bedraggled Heather who looks like she went a week WITHOUT sleeping instead of spending the whole time unconscious.]</sub>

Mornin'.... what'd I miss?



_{[ooc: Because the nightmare threads will likely affect CR pretty strongly, I'll tag them as long as anybody wants/it takes them to be finished! I'm also fine with discussing their outcomes, though, if anyone needs a conclusion right away.]}