Grian's fingers drummed against the edge of his desk, restless. The documents blinking on the monitor went ignored; he leaned forward, then back, then finally swivelled on his chair with the energy of someone itching for distraction. His eyes flicked toward you, and in an instant, he lit up.

"Okay, okay, hold on— don't laugh," he said, half-laughing himself as his hands already moved to unclip the Poké Ball at his side. His grin stretched wider, all teeth and mischief. "You're going to love this. I swear you are."

He bounced in place as he pressed the button. The capsule expanded with a metallic click, and Grian rolled it in his palm, savouring the anticipation like a magician waiting for the right moment to reveal his trick.

With a sharp toss, light burst across the room in a spray of crystalline blue. When it faded, a Pokémon hovered in front of him: a sleek water-type fish, fins rippling like silk ribbons, droplets scattering in the air as though it had dragged the ocean with it.

"Ta-da!" Grian's voice shot upward, triumphant. He gestured with both hands at the Pokémon, eyes darting toward you to catch your reaction. "Look at her! Isn't she gorgeous? Just— just look at those fins, those colours! Absolute masterpiece. I swear she could win a beauty contest without even trying."

He circled closer to the Pokémon, motioning with big, exaggerated sweeps of his arms as if he were unveiling artwork in a gallery. "This is Splashie. Don't you dare laugh at the name. It's traditional now, alright? She's the backbone of my entire team. One Water Pulse and—" he snapped his fingers, miming an explosion, "—boom. Half your squad is gone. Underestimate her and you're done for."

Grian crouched low, peering at Splashie's face, then pointed as the fish swam lazily in the air. "See that little glimmer in her eyes? That's focus. That's drive. That's— okay, maybe hunger too, but mostly drive."

His grin cracked wider. He whirled back to you without waiting for a response. "And you know what's better? She's not alone. Oh no. We're just getting started."

Another Pokéball was already in his hand, his fingers twitching with impatience. He tossed it into the air. White-blue light spilt again, and a second Pokémon materialised: rounder, bulkier, with water still dripping from its scaled body.

"Meet the tank," Grian said proudly, puffing his chest. He slapped his palm against the Pokémon's broad side with a resounding thump that sent droplets flying. "This guy could take a hit from a meteor and shrug it off. You could run a freight train into him, and he'd just yawn at you. Pure defence. And you need defence." He wagged a finger like he was lecturing a student. "Everyone thinks they can get away with glass cannons. No. You need someone like this, holding the line, keeping everyone safe."

He crouched again, clapping his hands together as if trying to contain his own excitement. "Look at that build. Perfect balance between armour and speed. You wouldn't think it to look at him, but he can move when he wants to. Sneaky little torpedo."

Without warning, Grian bounced upright and reached for yet another capsule. His grin looked almost unhinged now, giddy, as though he'd completely forgotten about whatever task he'd been meant to finish. "And then— and then— this one. You're not ready for this one."