Giona could feel eyes trained on him, as he camped beside the cooler. He sipped at the blue electrolyte drink, tipping his head back. A bead of sweat rolled down from his forehead to the side of his undercut. It’d been a reliable heat-vent up until now, but even the 1/16 inch hairs were starting to get matted down against his head in the sweltering heat.

The waves rolled in. Honedge flashed its blade, using Iron Defense. An eerie scraping sound came as the floating sword used its own sheath as a honing rod. Giona hadn’t any games on his phone. He did however have a daily tarot app. It was just woo-woo enough to grab him, and not obviously human-controlled enough for him to see through it. The sun glanced off his earrings, and he held up a finger. Giona dug the earrings out with a bandaged finger, tucking them in the same pocket as all the balls he had on hand.

Notes: Honedge used Iron Defense. for ambiance

Giona could feel eyes trained on him, as he camped beside the cooler. He couldn't relate to 'clout' being a concern. He made his bones in the mafia. If he needed to blow up, he'd just become a state asset and release a tell-all book years later. Nonetheless, he had to make an effort to keep up appearances.

The waves rolled in. The hound drew near, inflicting a glancing wound on Honedge, and paralyzing it. The floating sword's movements became staggered, though it didn't look all that injured. Honedge turned to face Boltund and tried using Night Slash, a series of cuts held back by its status.

Notes: Honedge used Night Slash. for ambiance

Giona could feel eyes trained on him, as he camped beside the cooler. He raised a brow, then shrugged his shoulders. He tugged at the collar of his white button-up, which sat atop a pair of black slacks and boots. He looked like an overgrown schoolboy.

The waves rolled in. Boltund landed what some would call a critical hit. Its Crunch landed cleanly, thanks to Honedge's own No Guard ability. It was clipped at the hilt, and clattered to the ground, as if it fell off a kitchen counter. Giona dug out a black pokeball with fingers grouped together to cover the front for some reason, and a red beam pulled it back.

Notes: Honedge fainted. for ambiance

Giona dug the pokeball back into the pocket on his slacks, as it compressed. He tried to cradle it in his hand as it went down so as to obscure the R. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if he'd spilled a cup he drank from. He quickly covered it with bluster. With confidence.

The waves rolled in. Kyle took the opportunity to clear the gap between the two, kind of pinning Giona between him and the cooler. A hand was stuck out, pointed towards him. He reached out his hand to grasp it. Kyle would be able to both see and feel a wrapping around his fingers somewhere between bandaging and a martial artist's grip-tape.

Giona took a second to pull up a phone with a sticker depicting a Haunter on its back, with one button at the bottom. He pulled up a page with his phone number and @ on social media on it. He held it out to display the information to Kyle, with a thumb gripping it in a way that obscured his name.

Notes: Honedge is defeated.

Giona felt the phone buzz in his hand as he received the notification from Kyle. The notification SOUND on the other hand was an impish snickering, like that of a Gastly. A string of numbers and letters. Charming. It was like a dog walked across the keyboard, but it'd suffice. Giona looked back up at Kyle. His eyes widened, at the prospect of getting a group together to battle again. He struck out the first time, but it wasn't always going to be like that.

The waves rolled in. Giona raised a hand to adjust his necktie. His slacks had seams in the middle of the thighs, as if they were ironed recently. He then glanced off to the side, thinking and choosing his words carefully. He then lit up the phone again, and started typing.

"We had a four-way thing on the beach with two other guys," He paused. "But I don't get to tag-battle that often. Either way, it'll be cool. We can figure it out when it happens. When we're all there, camped out around another cooler full of drinks. I can hit up Mischa in a minute."

Notes: The battle is effectively over, and Giona is trying to wrangle one of his contacts for another.

Giona let that pause hang just long enough for him to react to it. He did it on purpose. Slipped in a gay joke of the most innocent sort... Not that there was anything wrong with that. If there was, he wouldn't have joined Team Rocket. Wouldn't have set up camp in a submarine filled with sweaty guys like sardines in a tin.

The waves rolled in. Giona raised a hand to adjust his necktie. His slacks had seams in the middle of the thighs, as if they were ironed recently. He then glanced off to the side, thinking and choosing his words carefully. He then lit up the phone again, and started typing.

"That's a really interesting coincidence." He paused. "I was actually in the middle of filing paperwork to open a gym of my own. Then the tournament started."

Notes: The battle is effectively over, and Giona is just talking things out.