As the shining blast made contact with Jess, bowling her over, a loud "Hah!" resounded throughout the cave. Unknown to its maker, the adulation was boisterous enough to alert several more of the cave's denizens, some of whom had been asleep, eating, or merely startled. In minute or two, the Beach Cave's resident Pokemon could very well converge on the Wobbuffet's location with malicious intent. Meanwhile, the Wobbuffet in question pumped his noodle-like arms and continued, "Score one for...uh...me!" Caught up in the hype of winning, he managed to momentarily ignore the fact that he had no memory of his name. He then slapped a hand to his head, indicating at the space between his eyes. "Come again, heathen brawler?" he declared dramatically.

Apparently his Meditite foe decided against 'coming again', for she sat down upon the floor, pressed her hands together, and closed her eyes, all with a serene yet somehow determined look on her features. The Wobbuffet quickly realized that he had absolutely no idea about how to go about attacking her. "Er..." he intoned, rapidly venting the confidence he had gained in the last minute or two. Jess made no movement, still sitting upon the floor. "You..uh...you gonna attack? I...don't think I can." A few drops of water from the ceiling and the steady, low roar of the distant breakers crashing against the floor filled the rather awkward silence. The Wobbuffet noticed his opponent's griseous anklet, and instinctively recognized it. "Oh yeah...Shadow Tag! I'm not sure how I know this, really, but you won't be able to run away until one of us is unconscious or we agree to a draw."

Jess remained motionless, still deep in meditation, waiting for incoming backup. A few shouts, scrabbling noises, and meaty [i]thwacks[/i] could be heard from the next room; the Wobbuffet wondered what was going on. He rubbed his overlarge head, thinking. "You know, aside from the whole running-up-and-attacking-me thing, you don't seem like a bad fellow. No mindless brute, at any rate. If you're not going to press the assault, maybe we can come to some sort of understanding?" He wondered if she actually understood him; at the moment, she exhibited all the mental capability of a homegrown cabbage, and not a particularly fresh one at that. The Shadow Tag on Jess's ankle did, however, waver, as if it were about to sputter out.

The noises nearby had ceased, now that the Wobbuffet noticed. Before he had given it much thought, around a stony corner cartwheeled the Aipom called Pip, much to his surprise. "Whoa!" he yelped, "who in Heatran are you!?"