"Yes," he confirms, waiting.

The epiphany he's hoping for doesn't come; she focuses her attention elsewhere, instead, but he doesn't express any sort of frustration.

"That's its ability," he says of Sandslash. "Snow Cloak."

The name, he feels, is self-explanatory.

"Your Pelipper — its ability is Drizzle, is it not?"

He watches as she sits down, doesn't protest.

She's close, but each time she comes within grasping distance of the answer Gavin expects, he finds her trailing off into the same expectant silence. THEO BECKETT had taught him this, too: he was smart, able to fill in the blanks his mentor left.

"Think not of winning and losing, but of the advantage gained by the weather — or lack thereof. What moves does your Pelipper know?"

Though she'd said its name, 'Swabbie', Gavin doesn't use it.

Where Plank grows frustrated, Gavin remains patient.

"Yes, they are." She finally turns his gaze to look at him, and amber eyes blink slow. "While it was up — I allowed it to be, temporarily, but what if I hadn't? What if I'd disabled the rain immediately?"

There is no need to click, to whistle — the cavern begins to fill with an unnatural rain at Lugia's behest. Its wide wings shift to loom over their heads, an imposing umbrella.

Rain continues to fall, soaking into drifts left in Sandslash's wake and turning them to pools of slush. The breeze that blows through Shoal Cave is cold, makes gooseflesh rise on Gavin's arms.

She refuses to put the pieces together — it's how he sees it, regardless of whether or not she's trying.

"If I regained my advantage by shifting the weather, what if you could have done the same?"

At last, Gavin recalls the uncomfortable Lucario, leaving himself and Plank alone with Lugia's imposing shadow.

"If your strategy relies upon the rain, you need a reliable source of it."

Gavin nods, encouraging.

"Yes, exactly. I was able to regain the advantage of Hail, and you couldn't counter that in turn — but if you had, I may have struggled, especially with the advantage given by the Tailwind. That was a good strategy."

He sits down himself, finally, leans his back against Lugia's broad chest and feels it rise and fall with breath. It's comforting, grounding in the aftermath of something he'd not wanted to do. He closes his eyes, focuses on the rain.

"Have you thought about taking on the gyms?"

He almost laughs, in spite of himself; there's a huff of breath that escapes him, lips quirking into the ghost of a smile before it fades.

"Mm. I thought so, too, at first."

He had trained at an Academy growing up, but Rocket had taught him how to battle for real. Go for the trainer, go for the throat — win, kill.

With eyes still closed, he pictures THEO BECKETT.

"But everyone's got a strategy, and the gym challenge helps you get better at figuring them out." He opens his eyes, blinks at her. "I've done it, myself."

He reaches inside of his blazer, pulls out a thin metal case. Seven stylized badges glimmer in the pale cavern light as he angles it toward her: some active, others retired. Meadow, Skyrider, Clairvoyance, Mystery, Stone, Silph, Nimbus.

"Could help you adapt your own strategy against others, as well."