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Fern was entirely convinced that he might go mad if he was required to read another word. It wasn’t that he was incapable of dealing with the coordination of the various smuggling rings situated around the region. It was simply that he hadn’t had adequate time to work the additional task into his schedule. When crammed in alongside his other tasks, it became a bit difficult to keep everything in proper order. And there was, unfortunately, a lot of everything.[break][break]

A soft knock on the door to his office had alerted Fern of Girard Fraser ’s presence. Looking up from the report he’d been sifting through, his face went slack with surprise. But just as quickly, a taut smile settled on his face to cover it up. “Ah, Girard. It’s been quite some time since you’ve darkened my doorway.” As his smile reached his eyes, it seemed a bit too saccharine. Forced.[break][break]

But he felt no need to force amiability. Not with matters so personal crowding the space between them.[break][break]

Tossing his pen down on the desktop, Fern leaned back in his only somewhat comfortable office chair, and crossed one knee over the other before his hands drooped lazily into his lap. He sighed (though was it out of exasperation or exhaustion?) Briefly, his glance drifted to an electric teapot resting on a table in the corner. “I would offer you tea, but I’m afraid my kettle may have run cold some time ago.” The dregs of his own cup had been long abandoned to the far side of his desk. Lonely next to a stapler and a dish of paperclips. But even then, there was a trite lilt to his words as if he, perhaps, didn’t really feel bad at all.[break][break]

“No matter. What is it that I can help you with today…Mr. Fraser?” The formality bestowed on his old flame felt sour on his tongue, and Fern grimaced immediately. In spite of himself, he was curious, even if this welcomed the potential of a chaotic wrecking ball into his affairs.
[break][break]

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Girard Fraser // m: recruitment act i (repeat)   

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MADE BY GUNSMILE

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The cogs in his mind had already begun to turn. Surprise to skepticism to opportunism and acceptance in moments. If Girard Fraser hadn’t already been familiar with his temperament, it might’ve proven confusing to keep pace with. Fern’s eyes darted up, beyond Girard toward the hall of the sub beyond him. Then the door clicked shut.[break][break]

And so his demeanor notably shifted.[break][break]

For all of his flourish and proclivity at putting on faces, Fern felt he was terrible at anything remotely somber and serious. That was more jayden cross’s wheelhouse, if he was being honest. Honesty–another rarity, but seeing Girard after some time was a chief reminder that falsity around the other wasn’t necessarily required.[break][break]

Girard knew him. Unfortunately.[break][break]

Or maybe fortunately, depending on the perspective he utilized. Pretending that he was not overworked wouldn’t do with the other man. There was no way Girard would buy the act, and though some of his irritation was legitimate, it was also not exactly something he could keep up on.[break][break]

He wasn’t truly mad with any sort of permanence. Not really.[break][break]

With a dramatic sigh of lamentation, Fern semi-collapsed in a heap on his papers before his head popped back up to be perched in a propped fist. “Oh, that is a terrible rumor,” he complained, tone airy (and a little whiny.) Fern flapped a hand at Girard, bottom lip poking out, “Refute it for me, I’m tired.”[break][break]

Of course, admitting as much only confirmed the fact that he was in need of help, but details, details. A smile curled at the corners of his mouth as he looked across the desk at Girard. “And how exactly do you intend to help me, then?”

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Girard Fraser // m: recruitment act i (repeat)   

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MADE BY GUNSMILE

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[attr="class","star2"] The effort to keep his stare off of Girard for too long was immense. It was an oddly difficult thing to be faced with, now that it was presented to him in the form of an office visit. Fern was perfectly happy with how his personal life was now, there was no reason to overlook it. But it was strange, the way he hadn’t realized that a lack of closure between them would make old aches resonate all over again.[break][break]

Bittersweet and tinged in what if.[break][break]

“Forthright as ever, I see,” Fern murmured, a milder smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It’s followed by a low whistle, speculative and short. “That’s a big ask, G.” He didn’t mean for the old endearment to slip loose, but his tongue betrayed him.

Betrayed the degree of regard he still held for his old beau, come hell or high water.

And it was because of that regard that Fern didn’t immediately wave the concept away. He let it turn over in his mind a moment longer. He did need the help, whether he cared to admit as much or not. And even before he himself had been a part of Rocket’s ranks, he still recalled Girard’s work in Galar. A subtle awareness and curiosity that had pushed him forward when the offer fell in his lap once he’d reached Hoenn.

“Of course you have,” Fern conceded, “but again, I’m not sure I can turn over the whole operation under my purview to–”[break][break]

Something in Fern’s expression sobered up as a wink was leveled at him, though. Elbow perched on the top of his desk, Fern tilted his head with a come on now, sort of cadence as he pointed at Girard. Albeit somewhat playfully. “None of that. You’re completely shameless.”
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Girard Fraser // m: recruitment act i (repeat)   

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