(The only thing I have to say in my defense is that I’ve been playing a lot of Pokemon lately, and it’s made me rather nostalgic. I’m sorry that the allusion here is so obvious, by the way.)
Normally, Roxy Penn is hardly the sort of person to hold grudges, instead opting to face life from a “forgive and forget” sort of perspective — then again, this situation is anything but normal, and so she feels that she is justified when Tré turns to her for the twelfth time that morning with an expression that clearly asks, Really, Roxy?, and she responds by folding her arms tightly across her chest, expression set in a firm frown that would have left anyone else quivering with fear and concern for their well being.
Then again, Tré Trippin really isn’t just “anyone else” (at least, not as far as Roxy is concerned, though she would rather face the stinging rage of a thousand angry Beedrill before she willingly admit that out loud), and he merely sighs and runs a hand through his hair in exasperation before he turns back to her and asks just exactly how long she plans on following him around while he continues his journey toward becoming the greatest Pokémon Master — and world-famous musician — the world has ever known, even though he already knows exactly what she will tell him in turn.
"When you finally buy me a new bass to make up for the one Shinx destroyed," she almost screams at Tré, eyes flashing in anger while beside her, Roxy’s young Houndour growls at him as viciously as it can, the small Pokemon’s tiny hackles raised in response to its trainer’s distress, "it was limited edition, you know that, and you owe me!"