The carpenters don't even need to come over to brag about their wares with Red there. He brings to attention a welsh dresser, touching the side of it to move a hand down over the patterns of swirls, commenting in fascination how it was all done by hand, throws in how his mom had always wanted one, but "they were always too big for our kitchen, the ones she liked."

Soon after, he removes his hands suddenly, laughing with a grin. "Mom always told me not to touch stuff, too."

But then Red crouches down, moving on from the welsh dresser to a table beside it, looking to the pokémon as he begins to tell how he watched the table being made, voice lowered. "He had everything marked out in pencil, and that's all he had to follow. Nothing else. Just these lines and his eyes, feeling out what he wanted. He just chips away at the wood all careful, stopping and looking and going again. It was like he was in a trance, nothin' startled him."

He makes movements with his hands like holding a chisel, acting out the memory, a person absorbed in his own storytelling. Pointing to the jewel-decorated jewellery box, he adds how the same person who made the table made that as well. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Sorry, Enzan. Red might have a habit of getting carried away with stories.