May talks way too much.
Most of the time, he's OK with it. If she's doing all the talking, then he doesn't have to say anything and can just quietly nod and hum at the appropriate times without really paying attention. He likes to think that's what he does (he's too cool to do otherwise), but in reality, he's almost always listening. He might not be saying a lot during those moments (he can hardly get a word in), but he's very much engaged in what she's saying. It's actually very cute when she begins rambling on something she's passionate about.
But sometimes, she really just needs to shut up. There are appropriate times for talking, and now is not one of them.
One of his hands is tapping the end of a pencil against a pad of paper, the other is rubbing his temple. He has a headache, and May's incessant talking is not helping.
Tomorrow's the quarterfinals of the Grand Festival. He's never met his opponent before, but he seems like a fairly decent battler, so he needs to prepare. May really should be preparing, too—she has her own battle in the morning—but instead, she's gushing about her favorite appeals of the day or talking about her excitement/anxiety with regards to the start of the battle round. At 10 p.m. They should be sleeping, but he hasn't been able to get anything done with her running her mouth all evening. He likes discussing contests as much as the next coordinator (he does it with Solidad all the time), but he's tired and frustrated right now.
"Ugh, but that Venomoth…" May throws her head back, grinning. "I've never seen such a pretty Psychic. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, very pretty," Drew grumbles. "May, I am trying to work right now."
"Oh, right. Sorry."
This has already happened three or four times. She apologizes and acts guilty for five minutes, but she eventually begins fussing around and starts talking again to squash her boredom.
"You know," May begins again after a while, and Drew's just about had enough, "my opponent tomorrow, Johnny, he has that big Magmortar, and I'm thinking I should either pick Wartortle or-"
Her words are cut short when Drew leans over and catches her off-guard with a quick kiss. Her eyes widen, her throat tightens, and she's not sure how to respond. It turns out she doesn't have to, because it's over before she has time to react.
She slaps her hand over her mouth, but a tiny squeak manages to escape anyway. She looks at him with disbelief, expecting some kind of explanation, confession, something—but he's gone back to working out his battle strategy for the morning, as if nothing had happened.
"Ha ha, well," May laughs nervously after a moment, smoothing out her shirt. "I-I guess I really should be getting to bed now, huh? It is getting late now. OK, um, anyway, good luck in the contest tomorrow!"
She bolts up the Pokemon Center's stairs, an he can hear the door slamming at she locks herself in her room.
Once she's gone, a satisfied smirk spreads across his face.
"Quiet, at last."
Then he hears muffled sounds of May screaming into her pillow.