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Snow didn't stand a chance against the Thunderbolt, and it was a clear one-hit knockout. It would have been even if he hadn't been hit by the earlier Quick Attack. Luke recalled the Charmander wordlessly. He hadn't expected any other result; after all, the battle had been to test the little fire lizard's reactions to his commands, not to achieve a victory.

He looked between the Pikachu and its trainer. "In the past few minutes, I could have killed you twenty-six times, at least three of which were with my bare hands." Not that he had been counting. "And children do this sort of thing for fun? They should be teaching them self-defense techniques, not how to run around with their pets." ...Or so said the ex-assassin.

"Oh no, if I had been counting it probably would have been something closer to thirty-three and a half. Possibly three-quarters, but I wasn't paying nearly that much attention." Besides, he had gathered that killing or otherwise harming coworkers wasn't generally an acceptable definition of teamwork, unless, of course, it was sanctioned in advance by a superior. That was something of a depressing chain of thought, however, and Luke abandoned it before it went too far.

He made an unmistakeable sound of disapproval at the mention of coordinators. "Contests are even less useful than trainer journeys. It's like taking a gun and... painting it pink or something. And then using the barrel as a flower vase." At least trainer journeys attempted to teach the children to be self-sufficient, even if they taught them nothing else of use. Contests only taught them to be pretty. Pretty things, coordinators seemed to neglect, were easily ruined with a swift kick in the teeth.

As he watched Claire put the weights away, he remembered that he had finished his cool-down exercises himself. He retrieved his shoes from the shelf and stepped into them.

"Ugh." His reply was accompanied with something of a scowl as well. "Ridiculous is right. They could have at least planned something meaningful. Something like..." Soldier was the first thing that came to mind, followed closely by officer or huntsman. "I don't know. Something useful. Something not focused on being pretty."

When she spoke of her parents plans for her, he paused and crossed his arms, "And a good thing it didn't. You've got too many good characteristics to be caught up with something as silly as contests." If he were more of a sentimental type, he might have also considered the fact that he never would have had the opportunity to speak with Coordinator Claire, but of course he scarcely bothered with such trifling thoughts. Of course. He turned abruptly, beginning to gather his things. "Anyway, Lucas believed he was going to sleep early. I shouldn't stand around any longer."

As Luke listened, he slowly became aware of a distinct desire to prove his earlier thought by kicking this sister in the teeth. It was an easy maneuver to defend against if one wasn't caught up trying to think of the most graceful way to collapse in a bloody heap on the ground.

Arceus help that girl if Luke ever had the opportunity to meet her.

"What? I don't know. Things." Mr. Social Graces had gone to sleep long before, leaving only Mr. What Is Polite Conversation to defend against the unexpected question. The slight fluster to his tone indicated the absence of any intent to embarrass himself further by elaborating. He instead maintained his crossed arms, eyes wandering to the running Pikachu.

His eyes returned to Claire suddenly. "Please tell me where your parents live. This is inexcusable." At this point it was becoming rather unclear whether or not he was still bluffing, even to Luke himself. His imagination had already connected this coordinator Stella's face - regardless of the fact that he had never seen it - with a very specific gun from his arsenal. A handgun, shiny and petit, but oh so deliciously lethal. Now there was true beauty.

"Lucas could probably pick out the specifics if you wanted to hear them. He's better with words." Better at finding them and better at using them. The original of the two egos might have been clumsy with speaking sometimes, but he always conveyed himself easily and sincerely.

"I'd say the parents that gave her that ridiculous name are equally at fault," he muttered. Surely it couldn't be that much work to find her anyway. He would just have to pick a city hosting a contest and wait. Of course, that would entail spending a lot more time out in the open than was safe. Galactic may have had little to no presence in Kodo, but anywhere else was fair game. It was a dangerous risk to take, even for the reward of breaking faces.

Luke was completely unaware of the reddening of his face. Had he been, he would have dropped the conversation altogether and left, but since he was not he simply continued to stand with his arms folded, shifting his weight between his feet. "...Is this some kind of payback?"

He snorted quietly. 'Stella.' If she was going to live up to a name, it should have been something like Anne (Bonny), Joan (of Arc), Artemisia (I of Caria), or... or Rambo. Something. Something that wasn't Stella.

His conscious reaction to Claire's observation was to swell with indignation. He unconscious reaction was to blush even more. Luke knew not the meaning of retreat - fortunately, it was an instinctive response and took care of itself. The man stumbled forward slightly, his expression suddenly very sleepy and confused.

"Ah..." He blinked a few times. "Wha... Claire?"

"What?" He stared. "...What?" He didn't sleep-walk. Or at least, he had never sleep-walked before. And he had done a lot of sleeping in his life. A lot of walking too, but never at the same time. "......What?"

Sleepy Lucas had a very limited vocabulary, apparently.