When Calem spots Cillian Quinn, it's with much too cheery a wave in return that he approaches.

The officer's costume much look warped to someone who knows what's really underneath.

"Calem!" A pokeball is unclipped from his hip, a Xatu tossed out.

It seems menacing in it's stillness. A Future Sight is readied.

"Have we met before? You look miiiighty familiar."

The Xatu makes his spine prickle, skin cold despite the searing Hoennian sun.

"You spend much time in Galar?"

But when he tilts his shades down as if to inspect the other closer, it's a flash of familiar amber that reveals the true answer.

Gavin's gaze is fixed on the Xatu; he doesn't command the Ninetales, who shakes out its well-groomed coat and sets up an AURORA VEIL of its own volition. Whatever trepidation Gavin felt, it isn't shared.

The smile that stretches wider on his face is practically a snarl. It's ugly.

"A little."

A sharp whistle, high and familiar.

Two can play the setup game. The Xatu is still as a statue, only a faint glow of the eyes to show it had done anything.

A Wish for something that didn't need it.

The whistle takes root in his mind, familiar in ways he'd rather forget, and it leaves him open to an unexpected psychic assault from the Xatu. As the glow fades from the eyes of the mystic, Gavin's own widen.

Shock, fear, anger — none of which he can express.

Bystanders would remain ignorant to the foul play, with only a subtle twitch in Gavin's left hand suggesting anything amiss. Without the knowledge of history, it could easily be mistaken as nothing more than a nervous tic.

With its master's tongue effectively tied, Ninetales receives no instruction. It continues its setup with a MISTY TERRAIN that billows across the battlefield, a haze of pink to join the shimmering white of snow and hail.

"Apologies."

Calem smiles like he means it but doesn't bother to hide his fangs.

This was the son of the man who taught Chu-e how to cause pain, after all.

"Old habits just die so hard."

Another whistle. The setup time is done for now.

A Psychic ripples across the field, cracking ground, like an invisible force headed right for the Ninetails.

Cillian Quinn

His heart rate's increased, a soft hitch to his breath betraying fear to the man who'd know just what to look for. But he hides it, now, where he hadn't bothered to then — then, fear had been expected of him.

Now things are meant to have changed.

Now there's witnesses that can't know who they are.

He's sure Calem Pollet knows that. Sure he's squirming with delight behind that sharp-toothed smile. Gavin feels a surge of anger that doesn't belong to him but pushes back against its influence.

Not now, not with so many people around...

"Wouldn't know; I've broken most of mine."

A warning, perhaps. A threat.

His Ninetales flinches from the psychic assault and lets out a HYPNOTIC howl.

The Hypnosis is ineffective.

Shadows crawl and writhe like nightmares, creeping towards the Ninetails with a Night Shade.

"Broken habits are always sure to come back in your moments of weakness... it's why you've always got to be careful."

A stray shadow lashes at Cillian Quinn's foot.

"One bad day and you're smoking again after swearing them off."

He's in charge, now, holds rank over the other, but the deference he expects does not come.

Instead, it's shadows flirting at his heels and reminding him of who he used to be. Nostrils flare beneath a sharp intake of breath and although he hides his fear as best he can, the subtle tremor in his fingertips betrays him.

Ninetales glances back at its trainer for instruction but Gavin's gaze is distant.

I'm not weak, he wants to protest, yet he doesn't trust himself to speak. His mind still reels from the afterimage of a psychic assault.

Ninetales falters, too, stumbling against shadow before hurling a BLIZZARD toward its foe.

The Blizzard hits the non-moving pokemon hard. The Xatu doesn't even resist, barely bending under the frigid cold.

Ice coats slowly up his claws on the ground, at the base of his body.

A Wish granted makes the ice melt, makes frigid feathers heal like magic.

Calem smiles like a shark.

A low whistle and the Xatu jerks, unnatural.

A sudden blade of wind intent to cut in two.

- used Air Slash
Cillian Quinn

Momentary reprieve from psychological interference sees Gavin intervene in Ninetales' fate. He whistles, sharp, and the snow-furred fox retreats toward its master's voice into the sanctuary of the hailstorm.

A wicked blade of air cuts through the snowfall and ruffles Ninetales' fur with a narrow miss. Gavin, too, feels the wind buffet his hair.

He's still focused on the cutting quality of Calem Pollet's smile, the savagery with which Xatu had attacked. He's seen that Pokemon kill before. His mouth is dry, throat bobbing as he swallows.

"Blind."

A sudden flash, a DAZZLING GLEAM of light through the mist.

The flash lights up Calem's face, give his teeth that shiny affter effect quality like a horror video. Just for a moment.

The Xatu, like before, takes the attack. No pain is sounded. No sign of weakness.

It would be still until it died, as what was wanted of it.

"I'm waiting for one of my pokemon in customs, you know."

Calem picks up, suddenly.

A Tailwind picks up, something planned.

"Hatterene... do you know that species? You're from Galar, right?"

Cillian Quinn

The tailwind from the other side of the battlefield casts cooled air against Gavin's skin, pleasant in the heat. He can't bring himself to enjoy it, not with the words that carry on the breeze.

"Yeah, I am."

And it's Liam King who answers but Gavin who knows a distant fear. Did Calem Pollet know that it was more than just a facet of his disguise? He had this habit of figuring out the worst information about people, their greatest fears and deepest secrets.

"They call 'em the Witch of the Woods, back home."

His heart pounds hard against his ribcage. Was it the same one as...?

The hailstorm subsides, exposing the Ninetales as it attempts another BLIZZARD.

The freezes over again.

There is a distant hum of energy, like a battery filling, before a loud clap of psychic energy errupts from around them.

Sand scatters, whips, wild as Calem's hair in the breeze.

A Tailwind charged Stored Power.

The psychic bomb that just went off leaves the ears ringing.

And Calem only smiles.

Scenting blood.

"Mine's a very sweet girl. Just easy to make upset."

Cillian Quinn