"Just wait until I start breathing fire and swallowing demon hearts," is Lambert's cheerful rejoinder to that, nodding in approval once Childermass fills up the mugs to about what's appropriate for their respective metabolic processes, holding the magician's mug out for him to take once he's done. It's pretty obvious whose is whose.

"Seems like we should toast something," he murmurs. "We're not going to be here for much longer." 'Here' being Alola, even though they're standing in the Carnival, it's still anchored to the world by the gates they enter and exit through.

Watching their Pokemon -- the comical contrast between the stoic, gargantuan horse and the tiny, hyperactive dog dashing around her legs -- he wonders if they'll even have any awareness of leaving the only home they've ever known behind.