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Procuring merchandise by one's own hands can become mindless tedium, but Volo appreciates the easy work. Gathering items and talking to customers are the fun parts of his job-- dealing with other members of the guild, not so much. It's awkward trying to engage with someone who has senority over him, and it's just as unpleasant talking to newer recruits. The clueless ones who don't have any idea what they're doing are endearing, but that phase doesn't last long and Volo is quick to lose interest.
His thumb rubs over a smooth, gem-like stone with a fire pattern on it, like a real flame frozen in amber. The rules of the guild are another unpleasant bit; Volo doesn't have permission to sell items like these. He'll have to turn it over to Ginter later, another person he doesn't look forward to talking to.
It feels oddly like a treasure, so Volo could always keep it for himself. He stares down at it during a break, contemplating whether he should hide that he found it. Just because he's a merchant doesn't mean everything he finds belongs to the guild, anyway.
From where he sits, Volo sees a lone Glameow. It determines that he's too close and is slowly backing away from him, eyes closed. Why would its eyes be closed?
The way it backs up is slow and careful, albeit a little shaky, paws feeling out what's behind it and gingerly changing direction when it detects an obstacle. As silent as he can, Volo stands up and makes a sudden movement towards it without stepping forward, intending to startle it. Glameow does not sense the movement.
It does hear him walk forward, and it becomes frightened when it realizes he's approaching. He tosses Togepi's ball out and it emerges to block Glameow from running away. It bumps straight into Togepi and releases a startled cry, amplified when Volo picks it up by its middle, careful to avoid its claws in its blind thrashing.
Togepi waddles after Volo as he carries Glameow to the river nearby. The water feels cool against his hand and he holds a bit of it for a moment, letting it warm while Glameow wears itself out. When he thinks he can get away with it without being scratched, Volo brings his hand up to one of its eyes. Glameow jerks away the instant he makes contact, splashing the small amount of water out of his hand and onto Glameow's face.
"Calm down, I'm helping you," he insists, though he doesn't expect a wild Pokémon to understand his words.
After about fifteen minutes of fighting and struggling, Volo successfully manages to rinse Glameow's eyes out. When it slowly opens them, they don't look nearly as clear or alert as a normal Glameow's eyes; they're cloudy and opalescent. Volo had first assumed an injury, but it appears now that it may have been born blind.
Glameow is calm now, mostly motionless in Volo's lap even when he withdraws his hands to lean back on them. When he looks closely, he sees all kinds of nicks and scars interrupting its fur, especially around its legs and face. Something about the way it was moving seemed off, a little unnatural, and Volo doubts the blindness alone caused it. This Pokémon seems to have a myriad of problems.
He fishes the fire stone back out of his pocket, holding it up to the sun to see the light gleam through it.
"If only it were as easy as an Eevee with a stone, hm?" he muses, knowing the fire stone means absolutely nothing to a species like Glameow. Its blindness and its potential neurological issues make it quite unfit for battle, and evolving would realistically do little more than make it a bigger target.
But oh, how wonderful it would be if weakness could be solved so simply. Evolution is a fascinating phenomenon, like a manifestation of a Pokémon's will to live. Why else would evolution consistently make Pokémon stronger? But then, Pokémon with no hope of evolution, are they already perfect as they are?
There's a certain somebody who could answer those questions for him, someday. Those, and many more about its designs across this world. Would it answer why humans should be so weak, with no hope of getting stronger the way Pokémon do?
Glameow must have decided Volo isn't a threat, because he notices now that it's fallen asleep in his lap. It barely weighs a thing, but its slightly malnourished bones dig uncomfortably into his legs, cushioned only by his thick clothing. Even if he were to feed it, that wouldn't stop a wild Pokémon from killing it someday soon. There's nothing he can do to enable this Glameow to defend itself.
That the world is cruel like this has to be by design. The food chain, the obstinance of all living things, the dangers of nature even without taking wild Pokémon into account, it all feels cruel and hopeless, like the original design has spiraled out of control and become malevolent, errors and exceptions becoming the norm while innocence and peace seem left to die.
That children like Volo could be left abandoned for so long, forced to find his own way in this malefic world that longs to see him dead... That a creature could be born like this, each day it survives a miracle in itself...
His questions have always filled him with a strange vigor, bubbling excitable and angry under his skin no matter the subject. He may have been born with a tad too much passion, he thinks, that it scorches him when he tries to keep it in check, that it flares out dangerously and burns others when he fails to do so.
Sighing, Volo cradles Glameow in his arms and stands up, Togepi following along behind him as he walks. It bounds past him to get in front of him, extending its little hands up at him. Volo shakes his head with a grin before crouching down and allowing Togepi to jump up into his arms as well, trying his level best to allow comfort for all three of them as he carries two Pokémon home with him.
His home, isolated and tiny as it is, has always felt lonely. Maybe it could be nice to have a creature there that needs him waiting for him to come home.