Shin was trying to be a good kidnapper-slash-host. Really, he was.
He'd asked some of the other girls how to go about this whole emotional bonding thing. Hobbies, they'd said, after he'd said he'd already attempted the most extravagant of gifts and chocolate and long sorrowful smouldering gazes. He didn't have many hobbies, at least not ones Yuria hadn't already expressed disinterest in, such as building empires in her name. Or knitting. Biking was definitely out, that left—well, he had one idea. Girls liked animals, right?
"Shin, that is...low, even for you."
"I only asked if you wanted to play Pocket Monste—"
The door was gently slammed (something he had yet to figure out how Yuria could manage, which only increased his admiration for the gesture and her elegance) in his face, and after some reflection Shin realized this may not have been the most appropriate turn of phrase.
It took a bit more explaining (with frequent polite interruptions inquiring about matters such as whether there really was a game involving collecting bugs and fuzzy creatures that involved "monster balls"), but scarce two hours later she was halfway through fighting the third gym—and still ignoring him.
In fact, she was talking to one of his guards, the one he'd made play through Green three times so he could get the starters other than Charmander and all the Eevees and a couple extra Mewtwos. Shin glared at the side of the man's head in the sort of way that suggested defenestration (or perhaps impalement) in his future, and he took a sudden interest in being somewhere entirely different.
"There are some Pokemon," Shin started to say, "that exist only in one of two versions."
"Yes, I know." Yuria didn't look up from the screen, and the battle music continued to play. He wondered what was on her team, and tried to lean over to see. Only to see, really, he swore.
"So, would you like to trade one of those little sand pangolins for my snake—Yuria, come back!"
That hadn't gone particularly well either. Well, if she wouldn't trade with him, then nobody could trade. He'd have to hear about Gengars for weeks from his underlings, but dammit, this was his subjugated-for-my-true-love city, and he'd pout if he wanted to.
He waited until it seemed the right time for her to be nearing the Elite Four, because oh, what luck, she'd been training a Machoke. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to reflect on why she would be fond of fighting types (surely, he was the best fighting type out there, even if he wasn't a Pokemon), but it meant one thing.
"I have something you want. And I want. It's simple—"
She left, once again, before he could finish his sentence. And before he could start to bemoan why, the guard from before pointed to his left hand, where he'd left a bundle of link cables wound round his wrist and brandished in a manner which (perhaps maybe) could be interpreted as looking a little family-unfriendly. Kinky, even.
"Oh, damn," Shin said, and flounced off in the sulkiest manner possible to go back to conquering.