A sudden overbearing stench haunted his nostrils, his complexion instinctively wrinkling. “Well for one thang it’s good at blockin’ odors.” The Smearkrom grunted, a portion of his cloak covering his snout as the Jolteon approached.

The scent was unmistakable. Death. Although the Jolteon hardly looked guilty of such a sin. Odd… He scrutinized the smelly electric type further, eyes hovering over its deformed abdomen and the strange marking lining it.

“You okay there, boy? You look like you’ve been hit by… sumpin’.” He mulled over, his free hand drawing circles in the air as he tried to recognize the marking.

He paused to stare at the odd Jolteon again. It did not look too satisfied with his response.

“The question. Yeah.” He grumbled. “Look, not everyone seems t’ tolerate my looks so ah’ve taken to coverin’ myself up. It’s easier t’ go ‘round lookin’ like a black Smeargle rather than, well…”