The downpour had come suddenly and without warning. Rain had washed out yours and Wallace’s battle, as irony would have it. Your pokémon were ill prepared for rain, although his were happily frolicking on the training grounds. Wallace always enjoyed training with you; your relationship was a healthy one, both of you compelling the other to reach new limits in battle. Professional colleagues, really, but often, he wonders if you ever wish for more. He does.

“Well,” he remarks, sweeping a hand through his hair as much as his hat will allow. “That’s certainly one way to end our battle.” When he looks askance at you, he sees that your clothes are sopping wet, clinging to your skin, with droplets running down the side of your cheek. He quickly looks away. “Perhaps we ought to steel ourselves and make a run for it.”