She finds it difficult to figure out how he managed to convince her to accompany him here. A bar in the middle of the day? Perhaps she was too tired to argue against it. Or maybe a break is what she needed and her subconscious muffled the more logical part of her brain that told her to go back to work. Still, the weight of everything that needed her attention left a consistent anxiety bubbling in her chest. Or perhaps that was Rayquaza. It was getting more and more difficult to distinguish between her own discomfort and theirs.

She slides into the seat beside him, giving the bartender a warm, tired smile in greeting before it shifts over to the Councilman beside her with cautious curiosity, “I’ve been better,” which isn’t a lie but not entirely the truth, “What about you?”

---

FERNANDO SILPH

She’s not surprised by his answer, so she nods in silent agreement as she reaches for the amber liquor. Eva meets his glass half way in solemn cheers.

Eva isn’t expecting tequila. Even though it hailed from the top shelf, its putrid burn forces her face to twist into something awful. She takes it, nonetheless, smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she pushes the empty shot glass forward, “Thanks but . . . I’m picking the shot next time.”

In an attempt at humor, her lips curl into a grin, “I may be a lab rat but I can hold it together when it counts,” Sort of. Her performance was far from perfect but she didn’t throw a tantrum or break down which was a plus. Her gaze runs over the whiskey selection as she speaks, “It reminds me why I’m not in politics,” her emerald eyes break towards him for a fleeting moment, “It’s impressive you continue to put up with it,” she found them to be frustrating and rather simple minded. She couldn’t imagine what Fernando thought of his colleagues.

---

FERNANDO SILPH

The grim quickly turns into a tight lipped frown. The eye roll is subtle, but it's there as she turns her focus back to the whiskey selection, pointing to a bottle she recognizes as a smokey blend, “Well, I’m not infallible,” not even close.

The bartender nods in approval at her selection and she finds an odd sense of comfort in that, “They do tend to phase in and out as swiftly as the seasons, don’t they?” she could barely keep up with it. No wonder The League doesn’t get much done.

“You’re not part of that cycle,” he’s been around longer than any as far as she knows, “Do you enjoy the torture of their simple-minded debates that much?”

---

FERNANDO SILPH

It’s part of the job. A common excuse. She’s used it before too. And just as quickly as the turnover on the council, Fernando pulls her into it.

Her brow rises and she finally glances over to Fernando and meets his eye’s gaze. Head professor. She speaks honestly, “Things are great,” her relationship with illeana reyes had never been better, and she had proven to remain a dedicated and loyal science sister, “She really doesn’t need my oversight,” it’s true, but her insecurities emphasize it, especially after the whole Priam situation. How could she be so foolish to not see his betrayal?

The bartender returns and her fingers reach to curl around the glass like an anchor, “Fernando . . . Why did you accept all the blame? It wasn’t your fault,” it was more her fault than his. She, again, put too much trust in someone who didn’t deserve it.

---

FERNANDO SILPH

Eva didn’t know Fernando well, but she never pegged him for a man who played games. The concern written sharply across her features melts away into curiosity. Her eyes bounce cautiously between Fernando and the shot.

“Hm, alright,” she shifts in her seat to face him. Her eyes narrow slightly, locked in a contemplative gaze with his singular eye. They sit in silence for a long moment, her mind trying to dip into his. But could she really ever learn to understand him?

“To give them what they wanted. So they’d shut up and move on.”

---

FERNANDO SILPH

Drink.

Her jaw snaps shut, lips drawing tight in a playful annoyance. She thought she may have been right. It seemed too easy, but the easy answer is right many times. Shutting them up drove the conversation forward rather than keeping them trapped in the vortex of debate.

“Fine,” she tips the glass back easily, much more pleased with the taste than the tequila. The snarky side of her scorned personality wanted to promptly reply nothing, but she bit her tongue in favor of something more political, “His role wasn’t very clear, I’m not quite sure I fully understood it myself,” nor does she fully understand Fernando’s role. Perhaps that’s the hint.

“You did it to support us, the department. Stand in solidarity because you took responsibility for it when you took over his role.”

---

FERNANDO SILPH

Her eyebrows slowly rise in anticipation as he contemplates. A half smile accompanies a half-correct answer. She’d take it. It was better than downing another shot that deserved to be sipped. As a fairly competitive person, she finds a sense of pleasure in watching him take the shot.

Eva has to dig back deep into the recesses of her mental vault to extract the information he inquires about, “I think so,” her fingers reach out to gently trace the subtle curve of one of the shot glasses, “We discussed quite a bit,” but a part in particular stood out to her. It certainly wasn’t what he would have liked her to take away from the conversation nor what he is referring to at this moment, but she could be frustratingly dense sometimes. Especially when it comes to herself, “You told me,” she searches for the right words to sum it up, “To not not waste my time searching for alternative,” following her gut, “And we can always do more.”

---

FERNANDO SILPH