When they step up to shake hands, Gavin offers his left. Deliberate.

The bare smile is returned before he steps back to take up position on his side of the field. Something fun...?

A frown as he runs his hand over his collection of capsules before fingering one in particular and tossing it into the air. The luxury ball bursts open to reveal a blue-furred, snarling werewolf whose red eyes gleam in the sun.

"One of my best."

Not counting his shadow Pokemon, of course, but boruta maher was smart enough to know that.

All offense, NO GUARD, Lycanroc is quick to launch into action with a FIERY PUNCH. It might've seemed a strange choice given the type disparity but Gavin doesn't seem surprised nor disappointed. Clearly there's some strategy at play.

Gavin arches a brow at the grounded assault, appraising.

This could be rough.

Still, Lycanroc had an excellent track record of besting its opponents if only it could last long enough to execute its finishing move, so Gavin doesn't count them out just yet. He whistles to keep the angered wolf focused.

As Golem bulldozes over it, Lycanroc LASHES OUT in return.

Throughout their battle, Golem's defenses only get harder to breach.

By the time Lycanroc unleashes its Z-MOVE, the SPLINTERED STORMSHARDS of rock can only do so much to unbalance the bulwark that was its foe. The werewolf is bloodied and panting, cracks formed in its stony fur.

Gavin watches, quietly impressed.

In the end, not even its signature LAST RESORT is enough.

It expends its flagging reserves of energy with the effort and finds only unyielding stone, stumbling in the sand with its retreat. Its sides heave and a kinder trainer might've called the match there, let it end without a faint, but pain was an invaluable lesson.

Rocket's taught him that. Victory or death.

Golem's bulldozing knocks Lycanroc flat, red light swallowing the werewolf as it faints.

Gavin dips his head. "Strong as ever."

Gavin remembers Golem, vaguely. He imagines it's the same one.

There's a strange quality to boruta maher's smile that Gavin can't quite pinpoint; he's momentarily distracted by the warmth that praise spreads in the pit of his stomach. Rocket had never given out much of it.

It was never enough, was always do better and not you're getting better.

"Still not enough to beat ya, apparently. Not with this one, at least."

He tosses Lycanroc's pokeball up, catches it, then tucks it back on his belt. There's hidden meaning: his shadows are even stronger still. Perhaps they'd be able to topple his old friend in battle. Quietly, he hopes they'll never have to find out.

"I'd like that."

Gavin's voice softens at its edges. A friendly rematch, rather than...

He follows the drift of boruta maher's gaze toward the horizon, watches an aerial battle that unfolds between a Swanna and a Flygon overhead. The question doesn't surprise him but it invokes something sad in the pit of his stomach.

"We don't talk much," because they didn't work together directly, "but he's in good health. Misses you, I think. Probably wants you to visit."

Though they're forced to be vague, he imagines Bo can figure it out. He wants you to come back.

He can sympathize most with those who'd left in Rocket's good graces. When given the chance, he'd almost been one of them. boruta maher wasn't a traitor and that made all the difference.

"The rest of us know why you quit."

Vague enough that they could simply be talking about an old office job.

"But there's always a place for you if you get tired of being a Ranger."

The door might've closed, but it wasn't locked.