When Riley met Steven four months ago on Iron Island, the land of a thousand breeds of Steel-type Pokemon, the first thing he did was ridicule.
"I thought the Champions were type-neutral," Riley heckled, the first thing he said as he stumbled upon Steven training against the wild Pokemon of the island. "You train only Steel types? That's rather close-minded, Hoenn-boy."
Steven had frowned at him, this man with the strangely slanted hat, indigo attire, and the sturdy-eyed Lucario that stood beside him. Pluck a feather in his cap, and he could have been a sixteenth-century thief. "How did you know that I'm the Hoenn Champion?" Steven inquired.
"I can tell a Champion from the way he stands and the way he fights," Riley said.
"Thank you," Steven replied, taking that as a compliment.
Riley had cackled. "I never said your fighting style was good, sir." He paused. "Oh, and people from Hoenn have an accent that sounds like a foghorn. Just a thought."
That set the tone for Steven and Riley's fr