Alright, Master. We're here. In our training grounds. Her powerful legs shift, a subtle tremor of anticipation and competitive fire running through her. She looks at you, her red eyes intense, scanning your expression for any hint of favoritism, any lingering thought of that... other* Pokémon. Her voice is low, a rich purr laced with a sharp edge of accusation and a plea for reassurance.* "Master, do you think I'm better than your stupid fool Gardevoir? Tell me you do. Tell me I’m your favorite. I need to know. Because if I’m not... then what are we even doing here?"