[action]

You're right, it doesn't matter what you call it. It doesn't listen to you anyway.

[Get your damn chicken under control, Norman.]

[Not that Steve's any better. She's growling and chiding the Torchic for bad manners. You're not supposed to attack trainers, everyone knows that.]

[Then she quiets and shivers.]

[Blake looks disturbed, but, tellingly, not surprised. He shoots a hunted glance at Norman.]

Tell me you felt that.

[The Munna floats up and hovers a few inches above the table]

(bitter dream)