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marcel had never seen battle as sport, oh how it disappointed his parents so. perhaps he was soft, but he preferred to believe he simply found greater interests elsewhere. this was not the sort of strength he cared to prove. but he battled out of obligation then, just as he does today. not to emma, but to survival.
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he didn't like to imagine how things could go if he ever slipped, if his pokemon were not quick enough to jump in but, well, minds had a tendency to wander. he trained for a peace of mind, more than anything.
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still, with emma as his opponent marcel could at least find some enjoyment in this. belle waits patiently for his command, seemingly relaxed save the keen eye she has on the lycanroc. when emma sneezes, he manages to hold back his laughter--his smile, not quite. "would you rather we move elsewhere?"
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For Emma, battle wasn't a sport and it never had been. For her, it had always been a means of survival. If she didn't mean it meant she was weak, or worse, would die. She had, so far, been really good at not dying. Perhaps that's why Cadis had given her her position as a Beast once again, given her the job of training recruits.[break][break]

Marcel was not a recruit, of course, and she knew this. But she also knew that he was not the strongest battler due to his lack of experience. She was well aware, however, of pure, raw talent overcoming the lack of experience. She had faith that Marcel was just as strong as she was, or that he could be, at the very least.[break][break]

His footsteps behind her cause her to straighten her back and she discreetly wipes her nose before turning to face him. Her eyes are narrowed but there's a surprising warmth behind them instead of the sheer cold she often exuded.[break][break]

"Have someplace in mind?"[break][break]

She catches his smile and her own spreads across her face slowly, quietly. Her attention is gradually tugged away by the Dragonair at his side, and the way Hades' hind claws dig into the grass, too eager. He steps forward, saliva dripping into the grass and Emma steps in front of him, her intent clear, an unspoken order.[break][break]

Instead, she retrieves the Pokeball of her Weavile, allowing it to fall from her fingertips. The Pokemon stretches, flexing its claws before settling on the Dragonair across from her.

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