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This was the second time in one night that he was caught off guard; however, this time, he nearly jumped out of his seat. Clearly, he was making no effort to keep his surroundings in check and, obviously, wasn't doing anything as nefarious as what he was accused. It was probably due to the fact he'd already had a couple of drinks and they'd done their duty of lowering his self-awareness and tolerance. Though, it wasn't all bad, considering it seemed to be keeping his mind off the more minute details of his usual compulsions. His hands, glove-free, pressed finger prints to the foggy glass of his drink. He'd gone a long time without noticing that there was an ugly sticky stain on the bartop.
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All to be pulled away and hype-aware of the young woman glaring back at him. It was remarkable that he'd gone without noticing blue murtagh, as she wasn't a girl someone could just overlook (not without getting two black-eyes for it). She just didn't exactly... look like herself right then. Something clearly wasn't right with him then because all he could do was blankly stare at her, piecing together how she could possibly make such a transformation from the dodgy gremlin cage fighter he knew her to be.
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"You...." He started, pausing once more. It wasn't to think his words carefully, so much as to try to piece together exactly what he was thinking. But there lied the problem. He wasn't thinking anymore, not well enough to guard his words or even speak them with intent to annoy. "Look cute." He just said it, "It's kinda weird."
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God, had he drank that much already? He couldn't recall. Alcohol did have the nasty means of making him more honest and that clearly was the effect tonight (not that he was well-versed in excess). He'd drank considerably after Kanto, but that had been mindless and messy, not something he was proud of. This time, well... he wasn't much proud of this either. "What are you doing here? Obviously, no... I didn't pre-determine your chosen rat nest"


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blue murtagh

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He'd not anticipated the voice, certainly not one so familiar. There were very few people in Hoenn that he would claim were familiar with him, and most of them were behind bars. So, he discerned the culprit before seeing the blonde for himself. "Oh, Graves, we seem to be making a delightful habit of this." Not that he was complaining, Gunner was one of the few he didn't dread meeting again, quite the opposite. Though never under such informal circumstances. It did intrigue him to know if the other man even knew how to relax, but that was a pretty hypocritical thought coming from he-who-takes-work-home-with-him.
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Gunner wasn't dressed for the work he knew him by, so he could only conceive that it was his other work attire. "I've been told I should take more time for my personal life." Considering he didn't have much of one, this was a start. "You seem to just be getting off work?"
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He regarded the drink still nursed in his hand, not much progress had been made but he was still acquiring a taste for it. "An Old-Fashioned, if you're a bourban man. I am still learning to be."

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Gunner Graves

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Shinra brought work home with him. This night would have been no different, regardless of the occasion, but for reasons unbeknownst to him he was attempting to loosen control over his life. Alcohol helped, he'd been told. He wasn't an avid drinker, but the smokey taste of bourbon paired with citrus in the Ritual's old-fashioned wasn't a difficult drink to start on in his decline into alcoholism.
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Regardless, Ritual wasn't exactly his style of place, he found. However, had he been working, it might have been ideal if the rumors were to be believed about the occupants that infested its lower half like roaches in a crawl space. But he wasn't here for work, he reminded himself. blue murtagh accused him of not having a life and maybe she was right. What did he like to do if it didn't including busting some Rocket operation or literal kneecaps? He didn't know
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How depressing.
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Sure, maybe he didn't spend his time crawling around slums and fighting rings like some people, but that didn't mean he was boring. He nursed his drink and continued descending into this existential crisis he did not sign up for. He was too damn old for this.
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Gunner Graves

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Shinra wasn't much of a drinker, yet steadily more and more so he'd found himself acquiring a taste for it. He'd known plenty of drinkers in his lifetime, all of which shouldn't have had so much control over his life as they did. Foster care had forced him to have a unique opinion of such people and none of which was positive.
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Yet here he was....
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Sure, he was far from anything remotely detrimental and yet the slightest hint of control was loosened from his fingers and that simply wouldn't do. Once again, he felt homeless. Purposeless. Was there really a worse fate for a man than that? He certainly didn't think so. Maybe he was just feeling down for once, that happened from time to time. He was still in a place far from home, feeling the stinging sense of failure seeing his home in the vice of authoritarian regime he wasn't able to stop.
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Now, it didn't make sense for him to blame himself for events much larger than he was capable of controlling, but that didn't really matter. Though, he began to understand maybe why people began drinking to begin with. It diminished one's sense of responsibility. He couldn't even find his own happiness, let alone retribution for something outside of his control. So, as he drank the resounding realization became more and more apparent. "I do not care."
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Far from the truth, but he was feeling a touch nihilistic as well. There was a way of change, but he didn't much care to. Really, maybe the most pathetic thing one could do was drink alone.

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blue murtagh

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Handling someone like blue murtagh was a delicate process. It felt more like he was on a bomb squad, disarming C4 with chopsticks. At any moment, he could make the disastrous mistake of saying the wrong thing and having the entire situation blow up in his face entirely. Blue was the type to shut down without warning, draw back behind her fortified walls and never come out again. Shinra didn't frankly care to bust through walls (even at the detriment of those he was analyzing), but he didn't necessarily wish to. It would take too much time and effort. He wasn't a fan of things that he deemed unnecessary.
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He laughed at the burden comment in an unhesitating, self-detrimental sort of way. He was not someone that people enjoyed speaking with so it made sense. He didn't chat or go out to get a drink. He worked, and that was it. No one liked him at work thus positive conversation was somewhat limited for him.
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"Tell me something about you and I'd happily do so." To a very limited extent, not that he was worried. There was very little he was afraid to speak about. Orphaned from family and nation, maybe he should have been more traumatized, but he felt nothing so it didn't matter.
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"Do you feel like the precinct doesn't trust you?" Certainly there was a reason for that, right? "Weird? That sounds nice though, certainly there were good things to talk about, right? Were you happy to see your friend?"

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The Alakazam vanished after the last criminal. Shinra wasn't fond of mistakes and losing one of them was on him. Sadly, that would have to go into the report. He sighed before thumbing through the papers and printed bills on the table. The cuffed man that was still conscious was making a lot of noise before Onna followed up with silencing him. This was not his moment, after all.
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As Gunner spoke, he turned his attention back to him with the usual smile. "Oh — yes, I believe we can handle it from here. I'm glad we got to meet again, you're a good partner. If ever you tire of the bureau, my division would welcome you." The agent wouldn't take it up, but it was still worth a try. Shinra wasn't overly fond of those in his team, but they didn't share his unique intensity on the job.
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The last criminal was deposited on the ground next to the other as the Alakazam returned. "Thank you, Merlin."


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Money scattered across the floor as the man was thrown back from confusion. It was really all the evidence they needed. Had things been done differently, it could've been scrapped easily with a burn protocol. Then, they would've been back to square one. All their progress to the wayside, but they were lucky.
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While his partner handled the first man and his Hitmonlee. Shinra focused on the second in his line of sight. Onna slipped past him, lashing out at the man's Marowak with ICE FANG as Shinra grappled with the man. Twisting his wrist, the man dropped his gun. Swinging the assailant's weight around, he cracked his head against the desk holding up the second still operating money printer. The man dropped to the ground in a heap. Shinra cringed a little. He hated contact fighting. "You good?" He said to his partner.
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Glancing over at Gunner Graves  to make certain, it was fairly obvious that Gunner handled it even better than he did. No doubt there. Shinra wasn't an agent foremost, but an investigator. He could probably use a bit of a touch up on the fighting part of it. "I'm a little rusty." He chuckled, before observing the printer and stopping the operation with the click of a button.
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Shinra hated this place.
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The ugly underbelly of the world, where all of the filth in it seemed to convalesce. Being down here, it only exposed him. It reminded him of a past he'd do better to forget and probably would benefit from too. It reminded him that down here, they were all the same. The unprocessed meat, the same collection of dirty particles. They breathed the same, didn't they? In places like this, potential died.
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Onna was good for these places, freezing the air where the froslass hovered. It kept others at bay, but Shinra wasn't bothered by the cold. He was there for a reason, of course, but also not. This wasn't protocol and it wasn't even personal habit. He obsessed sometimes, of course, that was part of the job and he was very invested in his job (to such an extent it was likely unhealthy). Yet, regardless of his subject, it was getting harder and harder to justify this with work.
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Murk, they called her, but he knew her by a different name. Yet right then, she burned differently, with a vengeance. Kinetic, that was the word he'd use for blue murtagh in a fight. As small as she was, she fought with the ferocity that belittled the heftier among her. Admittedly, he hadn't come there to admire the slight woman's fighting prowess, but it ended up being the subject of his fascination all the same.
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Shinra told himself he was not a violent man, but a calculated one. Violence didn't mean anything to him, and yet... it was moments like this that he missed the old days back in Kanto, when he could do whatever he wanted to make someone talk. He'd been almost too good then. Now, often times, his job felt far less satisfying. You're not a hero— no, he wasn't. That wasn't the point, but some people joined his profession because they craved heroics.
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He also wasn't a gambler, but he still bet all the same. She better win though. They didn't exactly pay him a lot in Interpol.

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That's better. Despite his demeanor, he didn't set out to control the other, but he couldn't allow the other man to believe that this situation was anything less than completely serious. Kanto was, admittedly, a trigger for Shinra. Even more so when one might be connected to the Kanto rocket. That was a personal matter, as were most things when involving the infamous organization.[break][break]
Guilty until proven innocent, maybe it was backwards, but he was a man that wished nothing more than for someone to persuade him otherwise. Anyone capable of that would certainly prove themselves innocent, or dangerous.
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He smiled as Caleb opened his mouth before promptly shutting it. So, at least he was smarter than most of the people Shinra met on the other side of the table. It was usually more fun though, when they decided to lie. So, maybe it should have been a disappointment for him.
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Three years, seven months, and one day. He marked as such, even though the date was already there. It was just nice to see it affirmed. The particularity of the number was interesting, to say the least, but he supposed he too remembered the day he finally gave up and left. "Why did you leave?" The notes were there, but he wanted to hear him say it.

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Caleb Harcourt

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