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Flame sighed. As much as he wanted to Foster cooperation and stay on good relations, this Necrozma would be a real handful. "You know what?" Flame said to Owen. "Maybe you're onto something. I bet that he's just hungry." He grinned ever so slightly, holding back giggles. "Why don't you eat...

Flame stared at him blankly. "... Owen."

Flame glanced to his Charmander brethren, unable to not quirk his brow. Still, he felt compelled to defend him. "And... Owen isn't a child! He's just..." He glanced around the room, blinking. "I-it's the Charmander form. It comes with certain impulses, you see."

"If you gave us all a chance before judging, maybe you wouldn't be so pessimistic." Flame stomped right to Necrozma's face. "Here's the deal, big guy: we're here to save this world. If Diyem was setting us up for failure, he could have just..." His tail fire flickered. "Not called us. Save us...

Watching the spat from a corner of the room, Flame crossed his arms and sighed. "With how much you're accusing us of being Diyem's agents, I'm starting to think you might be one. Hah! How do you like it now?"

A Charmander threw open the doors to the living quarters. "Okay, where's the food? I was promised there would be a meal before the battle!" Stepping inside, he nodded in greetings to Astrid—who looked rather busy cooking. "Huh, you could have told me you were cooking. I'd have helpe—" He...