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"I know," is whispered back, soft.[break][break]

Sometimes it frightens him, like when the RVL app had offered an unwanted glimpse into the potential of his husband's psyche. Mostly, though, he was comforted to know that someone cared so much about him.[break][break]

Temp pokes his arm, and Cillian glances down at it. His veins are a soft blue beneath pale skin, no trace of the corruption they'd seen before.[break][break]

"Dunno," he admits with a shrug. "Same thing that made Lugia turn purple, I guess." He looks suddenly horrified. "Fuck, I hope I don't turn purple. Kinda cool when it's just the veins, but I don't wanna be a fuckin' cartoon."[break][break]

He'd never considered tentacles, either. Until now.[break][break]

"I don't... think... that would happen?" He smirks. "Bet you'd like it if I did, though. Wouldn't need rope, then." A sigh, before Cillian traces his fingers down Temp's arm and grabs his wrist. Possessive, tight, but not an unbreakable hold. "But we'll make do, hm? We've certainly had the practice."

[break][break]

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Cillian barely has time to register the Naganadel's missing arm before its stinger, wholly intact, sinks into his flesh.[break][break]

Colour drains from his face. Where the stinger penetrates, deep purple corruption spreads out from the source, a network of pulsing purple replacing the pale blue of veins.[break][break]

He does not scream. His muscles tense and he pitches forward as much as the straps binding him will allow. A horrible sound escapes from his throat, somewhere between a hiss of pain and a furious growl. The fury is blinding.[break][break]

His heart is pounding wildly, the adrenaline seeing him strain hard enough against the straps to put worrying stress upon them. Blessedly, his Avatarship has never granted him strength. Only the adrenaline boosts it, now, and then not enough to see him break free.[break][break]

It's fortunate, for Beckett. Cillian doesn't speak, but the look in his eyes is murderous. As the toxin continues to spread through his system, the familiar gold of his gaze is struck through with vicious violet.[break][break]

"Let me go."[break][break]

Had Beckett ever heard Lugia speak, he might recognize the thrum of corruption beneath his friend's deep tones.

[break][break]

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"Any time."[break][break]

Awkward as things have been between them, his devotion to her has not waned. Strengthened, if anything, in a desperate bid to not lose the sibling he had left.[break][break]

The lighthouse makes sense, though Cillian's surprised it's an option. He'd thought she sold it.[break][break]

Even if she had, it wouldn't have stopped him from agreeing.[break][break]

"Sure. You wanna walk, or teleport?"[break][break]

His fingers curl around a pokeball, just in case.

[break][break]

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Having assembled the pieces by hand, he was not ignorant to their flaws. So, when Aurelie Lefevre expresses her disdain, he does not immediately assume himself to be the cause. Instead, he merely asks, "Oh?"[break][break]

She confirms his suspicions, not without some self-directed frustrations.[break][break]

"I was a scientist once, you know." A strange thing to bring up suddenly, it might seem, until he elaborates, "You rarely get things right the first time. No shame in learning from mistakes and trying again."[break][break]

It was a pep talk, as much as someone as severe as Cillian Quinn could give. She might not need it, but he offers it all the same.[break][break]

And when she apologizes, he offers a dismissive flick of his wrist.[break][break]

"No harm done. My schedule's clear for the afternoon; it's why I felt comfortable stopping by." He'd originally cleared it with the intention of spending the afternoon with Tempest Quinn, but his husband had been called out on Beast duties. "I'm happy to lend my continued assistance."

[break][break]

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She seems to relent somewhat when he mentions his own skeletons.[break][break]

"Myself, ideally."[break][break]

He is blunt as a hammer in his admission, as though it were no big deal. It was definitely a big deal.[break][break]

"I'd imagine I'm far different than a Pokemon," with an easy enough laugh, "but I thought you might be interested in the results all the same. And I'd trust your research has given you a fair idea of when to pull the plug, so to speak."[break][break]

He flashes a vial of ANTIDOTE. "Not a suicide mission, see. Just an attempt to build immunity."

[break][break]

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He is so accustomed to Lugia's PRESSURE, as one living in the mountains might be to the heights, that he does not think of how it might affect his sister. He can barely think of anything beyond his building anxiety.[break][break]

Their nightmares take form, the crystal-encrusted Giratina slithering from a wound in the world.[break][break]

It looked real enough. Just as it would feel real enough to die by its claws.[break][break]

But Lugia would not let that happen. She hated Necrozma and Giratina both, and the sight of their horrible fusion sends her into a fury that takes the shape of a SPRINGTIDE STORM. Puca, ever the COPYCAT, mimics her technique to strengthen the tempest.[break][break]

If Genesect's Z-move was the nail, they'd be the hammer to drive it home.

[break][break]

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"If you wanted to follow him, you'd have admitted to it."[break][break]

Because if howard slayte boasts about knowing Cillian's intentions, he'd know just as well that the underboss was capable of murder. It wouldn't be the first life ended in this office, nor the last.[break][break]

"Don't pin your short memory on me; I used his name, as I said."[break][break]

He'd started with it, in fact.[break][break]

"And don't gamble with my patience unless you're willing to lose."

[break][break]

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"Whatever they try, we'll be ready."[break][break]

His smile is quick and sharp. He doesn't trust Adrian. His spies have reported nothing untoward as of yet, but spies were not infallible. It wasn't as if they could have eyes on the man 24/7; that would raise suspicion even in the most oblivious of folk.[break][break]

No, mistrust stems entirely from the mutual connection to Rowan Wrynn. Perhaps his death had seen Adrian settle into melancholic acceptance. Perhaps he was biding his time to betray Rocket in his own right. Until Cillian knew for sure...[break][break]

All he could do was watch and wait.[break][break]

He nods toward the door and starts walking, not turning back to ensure his reluctant companion follows before he starts to speak. "Kyogre has gone rogue, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't prepare for its potential return to the League's aid. Especially not with Rayquaza in play." His lip curls with disdain at the thought of Eva Morales. "So today I'm overseeing the construction of an earthen embankment around the Bay, to keep it from flooding the city."[break][break]

Lugia was powerful, but even she could not prevent the ceaseless downpour of the ocean titan.[break][break]

"Do you have access to powerful ground-types? Rock?"[break][break]

This felt like a safe thing to enlist Adrian's help in; it was a sensible action for them to take, especially since they'd done the very same when Kyogre and its cultists had harassed the city in the past.

[break][break]

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For all the bravado in his spoken choice, Cillian feels immense PRESSURE not unlike his Guardian's presence as they await the final tally. Breath shivers from his lungs as the verdict is cast: a mutual show of TRUST.[break][break]

There would be punishment, but they would survive.[break][break]

Still, dread coils in his stomach as the platform rises from beneath. They're corralled like animals to the slaughter, the space too tightly packed to identify any defining features in the crowd. The smell of blood, sweat, and sickly sweet MOCHI blends a revolting cocktail. Cillian takes shallow breaths through his mouth in spite of the mask's heat.[break][break]

It feels as though they descend for ages.[break][break]

He retreats into the depths of his mind, trying to focus on anything but the whimpers and snivels of those caged in around him. Numbly, he steps from the platform when prodded by one of the Megalopolan guards.[break][break]

When the Okidogi begins hurling prisoners into the pit, he tenses, fight or flight kicking in — but upon realizing that those sent below were not dead, he elects to freeze, instead. Fingers curl to fists, resisting the temptation to strike at his captor, and the muscled mutt condemns Cillian to the same fate as his fellow captives.[break][break]

It hurts less than he expects to land. Something squishes beneath his palm, and he swallows the urge to vomit at the twisted turns his imagination takes. It could be anything. Waste. Intestines. But the smell down here reeks strongest of sugar and spoiling fruit.[break][break]

MOCHI. Of course.[break][break]

He sets to work obediently. Quite literally blindly. Ignoring the screams and shuffling sounds, keeping his head down as Rocket has taught him.[break][break]

Until a familiar voice challenges that resolve.[break][break]

His attention snaps toward the sound; he'd recognize Tempest Quinn's voice anywhere, even muffled by the mask as it was. But Cillian isn't the only one that's heard. As the as-yet-unseen creature lashes out at his husband, chained helplessly to the floor, Cillian lunges toward it in a reckless tackle.[break][break]

"Get the fuck away from him."[break][break]

And it does. After it's done with Temp, it kicks Cillian hard enough to send him sprawling back. He slips on the mochi-littered floor as he tries to scrabble back to his feet. The creature kicks, and kicks again.[break][break]

Only when Cillian stills, playing dead like a possum before a predator, does it move on to its next unfortunate victim.[break][break]

"Temp," Cillian whispers, voice hoarse from pain. "You OK?"[break][break]



[break][break]

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"No one can teach you to be less selfish."[break][break]

Cillian shakes his head.[break][break]

"But perhaps you might benefit from a shift in perspective. If you rely on others to make up for the things you lack, you're still looking out for number one." No one could call Cillian selfless, after all. He was the epitome of self-serving, most times. "If I want something researched, I'll call a scientist. If I want someone dead, I might hire an assassin. I'm capable of these things, certainly, but it's important to know when you're out of your depth."[break][break]

Finally, he offers advice rather than condemnation. His tone is no sweeter, but perhaps the PRESSURE is less suffocating.[break][break]

"Do you know anything about the talents of the men you allowed to be captured?"[break][break]

And so the condemnation begins anew.

[break][break]

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Cillian's laugh is sharp.[break][break]

"Quite. Though you'll still need to impress."[break][break]

But it was different to pandering. She'd need to convince Rocket of her worth, rather than how pleasant she was to be around. An easier task, for people like them. Better to be respected than to be liked.[break][break]

"Mm. I've heard that before." From his own brother, no less, and countless others. "Do you have any limits to what you'd do?"

[break][break]

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He opens his eyes at Theo's question. Though dulled with pain, there's a pride in them at his ability to withstand thus far.[break][break]

"I didn't," he confesses. "Think."[break][break]

Because happy memories were too easily contaminated by the threat of what might shatter them.[break][break]

"Just blanked my mind and focused on breathing, mostly. Doubt that'll work so well for the Naganadel."[break][break]

He doubts it'll work at all, actually. There was a great deal of difference in the toxin's strengths, and he understood the risk he was undertaking in toying with them.

[break][break]