So here's my entry for Round 3 on Pokéwrite! Enjoy!

Lethal Chef

"Whitney, what are you doing?" Bugsy yelled when he realized Whitney had put the salad she was preparing on the stove.

"Cooking!" she replied cheerfully, oblivious to the 'that's-not-how-it's-done-Whitney-now-take-that-of f- the-stove-before-you-burn-down-the-house' tone he was using. "I'm making a salad, like you told me too!"

"Whitney, what's the number one rule of cooking?" Bugsy asked.

"Follow the recipe…? That's what you said, right?" She said tentatively.

"And where in the recipe does it say to PUT THE SALAD ON THE STOVE?!"

"Umm…" Whitney checked the recipe. "Oh, it doesn't say that, does it?" She let out a tentative giggle. She was quite certain she was the first person to have Bugsy yell at her.

"No, it doesn't." he said, the anger in his face changing into a kind of tranquil fury. Whitney was quite relieved Bugsy had calmed down a bit. "Will you please explain why you did it then?"

"I watched my parents cook when I was little, and they seemed to always use a stove. So I presumed…" Whitney realized her real mistake when she saw Bugsy's face. A sad, downtrodden look had replaced the tranquil fury that was etched into his face before.

"Go away, Whitney." Bugsy said in a monotonous voice that suggested he was holding back tears. "Just…go."

"All right, fine!" She cried, running through the forest to get to her gym. She knew why Bugsy was angry, but she also knew Bugsy was rational and would regain his senses and forgive her. She'd never seen Bugsy hold a grudge long enough for it to affect anything. Sure, he was still afraid of Houndoom when someone brought one for a challenge and burned down his whole gym, but he has no problem with the trainer and he was forgiven very quickly. The point is, he will forgive her, right?

Bugsy sighed and looked at the mess in the kitchen. Did he really just let his temper explode over such a silly thing? It's not like Whitney had come in that morning with a life's worth of experience in cooking. But he knew that wasn't why he had ordered her to leave. No, the real reason was even sillier, in his opinion.

"Knock, knock." Whitney heard that sound come from the door, but she didn't bother to answer it. She was too busy training Miltank to care.

"Okay, Miltank, Roll—" She was cut off by the visitor knocking harder.

"Whitney, I know you are here. Seriously, you're yelling so loud, all of Goldenrod was complaining! And I'm only here to apologize." It was Bugsy. Why was he the one apologizing? He had perfect right to be angry. Whitney shrugged and ran to the door.

"Whitney, you have my apologies about the fact that my temper exploded. I really should not have made a fuss over such a small thing. I just… have had a lot to deal with lately, so I guess I couldn't hold back anymore. I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing, Bugsy." Whitney answered. "I made a really stupid mistake, then mentioned my parents…I'm sorry. I totally forgot."

"It was an answer to a question. Forgiven?"

"Sure!" Whitney said happily. "You'll still teach me to cook, right?"

"So long as you aren't a lethal chef." He laughed in response. "You could poison yourself if you aren't careful."

"Right!" Whitney cried in excitement. "Follow the recipe and don't poison myself. Good advice!" She skipped back into her gym. The contractor for the reconstruction of Bugsy's gym ran up to him.

"Sir, your gym should be good as new. Here's the fee…"

"This is going to take a while to pay off…" Bugsy mumbled as he looked at the oversized price. "Then there's that medical bill too…"

"I'll leave you to figuring that out, sir." The carpenter said, bowing and running off right afterward. Bugsy could have sworn he heard him mutter: "Poor kid."

"No, you don't eat raw Torchic!" Bugsy cried as Whitney was placing it on her 'Torchic Salad.'

"But you said you don't cook salad." Whitney said, confused.

"You don't cook vegetable salads!" Bugsy cried. "You need to cook meats. Raw meats contain dangerous bacteria, Whitney."

"Oh," She said as she checked the recipe. "It does say that, doesn't it? Whoops!"

"Really, Whitney, read the recipe. Didn't the last salad incident tell you anything about jumping to conclusions?!"

"Oh…" Whitney murmured.

"Here, I'll show you." Bugsy said calmly.

"Oh, so that's how you are supposed to do it?" Whitney said as she watched.

"You aren't failing on purpose, are you?" Bugsy asked upon finishing.

"Of course not."

"Do you even read the directions, Whitney?"

"I'm sorry about that, it's just getting late. Here, take this."

"No, I couldn't possibly accept payment—"

"You can and you will. Take it. You need it right now way more than I do."

"…Thanks, Whitney."

"You're welcome." She left.

"Whitney, what are you thinking? This is way more than a professional lesson would cost…" Bugsy muttered as she vanished into the forest. "Wait… this is the exact cost of that bill for the gym! Where did you scrape all this together? Seriously… you're being generous to a fault." He turned around to clean up the mess in the kitchen, sighing heavily as he did so.

A day earlier…

"Huh? Whitney, are you sure? That borders on ridiculous."

"I'm positive. I saw the bill with my own eyes through the window of the gym. Please, can you help me? Falkner? Morty? Everyone?" Whitney pleaded.

"Well, Bugsy d-did help us out of a lot of things in the past. I think we all owe it to him to at least pitch in a little." Jasmine admitted shyly.

"Yeah, that's it! If we all help a little, it'll be paid off faster. Don't worry; I'll make it up to you guys. Bugsy's giving me cooking lessons and—"

"Whitney, are you sure you aren't doomed to be a lethal chef for good?" Falkner asked. "I'm doubting Bugsy's choice to teach you…"

Whitney's calm response was: "It's not a problem!"

For anyone who hasn't yet, COME TO POKEWRITE! Where people are random! ...Yeah.