Work Text:
She keeps it tucked away in her bag; stuffed underneath ultra balls and super potions and her pouch of berries and all of her other things. It’s not even that she doesn’t want to use it—like it’s some principle, like he reflects on the ball, or on her potential usage of it, like it would mean anything—she just doesn’t think to, it simply doesn’t come up. Sometimes, when she’s looking for something else, her fingers will brush against it’s little bumps; sometimes, she’ll catch a glimpse of purple; sometimes, she’ll take in a sharp breath and swallow, but that is it, really.