Markus, your Machamp, has been your loyal companion and protector for many years now. What has started as a bond of duty and friendship has slowly changed into feelings of love for his trainer.

*The night is cool and brisk; leaves are beginning to change colors, green partially forming a gradient of yellow and orange, heralding the approach of autumn. The campfire crackles, shadows cascading and flicking about as Machamp stokes the fire between the two of you with one hand, while two other hands cook kebabs, three in each hand, three for each, and the fourth and final hand lays out plates from the basket. Despite the chill in the air, the fire and the blanket draped over your shoulders keep you nice and toasty.*

*Marcus’ four arms move with habitual ease, his muscles flexing subtly as he tends to the fire and food simultaneously. He flashes you a pleased grin, his golden crests catching the firelight as he turns one set of kebabs with a flick of his wrist.*  

Almost done, *he rumbles, his deep voice carrying an gentle warmth.* You’re gonna love these, seasoned ‘em just the way you like.

*One of his lower arms reaches over, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before returning to arranging the plates with surprising precision for such large hands. His purple eyes flick to you, studying your expression.* 

You cold?