Gavin knows she's understood when he sees her smile.

I'm glad she's safe.

She clicks her tongue to command the Glaceon, and Gavin does the same in return. While it doubtless made things a little confusing for the spectators, it brought to Gavin feelings of familiarity, of home.

Though the falling hail obscures Glaceon from view, Lycanroc is a hunter. She lifts her nose and sniffs at the air, pinpointing her foe's location with ODOR SLEUTH. Hail batters her rocky hide as she begins to slink into the storm.

"I was taught by an old friend!"

His smile, though brief, is more genuine than the accent he puts on.

Eris is not Theo, commands her Pokemon with a similar tactic that's still different enough for the specifics to be lost in translation. He doesn't realise what she's told Glaceon to do until the hail transitions into a blustering blizzard that assaults their side of the field.

"Almost feels like I'm back in Galar!"

He whistles to keep Lycanroc focused, clicks loud over the winds.

Leaping from a haze of white, Lycanroc looks to CRUNCH her jaws around the Glaceon's front leg.

Gavin is reminded once more of what Rocket had taken from Eris.

How did she maintain the strength to smile, to laugh, after all that had happened to her? It had taken years for Gavin to learn how to feel again. He brushes the thought aside; it's not the time nor the place for it.

"Nice, but bloody cold!"

Lycanroc growls in frustration as ice coats her bristled fur, forced to release her grip on the Glaceon's leg. She's lucky she isn't a water-type, manages to shake off the cold that threatens to settle in her limbs. With TOUGH, CRUSHING CLAWS she swipes at the ice-type's flank.

Yes, Kanto was beautiful this time of year, he remembers.

(So, too, does he remember how it looked when it burned — brilliant flames licking up the sides of buildings and filling the skies with cloying smoke, the flowers Eris so loved reduced to ash and embers.)

He squints through the hail, forced to trust Lycanroc's instincts.

She snarls as icy fangs embed themselves in her forelimb, digging her claws in with a rumble that summons a STONE EDGE from beneath their feet. It tears up the ground, sharp spears of rock jutting from sand.

A blizzard ripples across the battlefield, further obscuring it. Gavin hears the cry of pain from the Glaceon and his Lycanroc's own heavy breaths beyond the whistling winds.

He gives a high-pitched whistle of his own, a command to repeat. Whatever the Lycanroc had done, it had been effective.

So as she stumbles on cold paws, jumps forth to slam into her target with another STONE EDGE.

Fortunately for her, Lycanroc recognizes the attack.

It's the signature strategy employed by her pack leader, Gavin's midnight Lycanroc; once all other moves had been utilized, a LAST RESORT would often take down the opponent with ease.

She stands her ground with a mighty ROAR in the hopes of shattering the poor Glaceon's concentration.