elijah cracks his door open a smidge. his perpetual frown bridges the gap between door and frame, and his eyes loom above it like unimpressed headlights. it's his default expression. perhaps, it wasn't the one he was born with, but over time, like eroding rock, it has become what his muscles naturally settle into.

"always time for the underboss." elijah steps away from the door, swinging it wide open. "what can i do for you this time, mr. merlino?"

the jungle is revealed to gavin. a florges tends to potted pothos plants.

Cillian Quinn

elijah shuts the door with a firm push. as the tinny echoes of footsteps become muted outside, the apothecary reaches for a squirt bottle.

however, his finger is stuck on the trigger at the mention of "shadow pokemon." he frowns. lips flat across a displeased face, elijah finally gives his dracaena a spritz.

"i do. a breloom." elijah says, the bottle squeaking with every stern tug of his finger. "she's filled with personality. never been cuter. want to see her?"

he turns to him, the nozzle dripping like a gloom's lip.

Cillian Quinn

"for awhile. i don't keep track." elijah tosses his pokeball, and the breloom lurches into existence.

the fungal boxer seems slow, red claws clicking together impatiently. poison courses underneath the surface. it's clear. sometimes, the toxin leaks for the breloom to lap up with its tongue.

"she behaves. i've owned her before the fact after all." elijah slaps his hand on his thick neck, cracking it to release pressure. "aight. your turn. i've shown mine, now show me yours."

he means the sandslash.

his breloom wanders over to gavin, sullen eyes like stains on its pale face.

Cillian Quinn

the sight of the sandslash causes elijah to reel. although it is no unfamiliar sight—for his breloom faces the same leaks—the jarring juxtaposition of its icy, solid stature and its new porous constitution inspires horror.

"my breloom can poison anything." elijah's gaze falls low to the floor. "and liquefy its own body to protect itself."

he cringes, eyes tracing the sandslash's claws tracing the ground.

"what do you think of them?" elijah says. "shadow pokemon."

Cillian Quinn

More fascinated than horrified, Gavin watches the Breloom with a renewed interest in the toxin that leaks from it.

His gaze snaps up to refocus on elijah gardner when he asks a question. A wild gleam is barely concealed in the depths of his eyes, though his tone remains composed as he says, "They fascinate me. They're a marvel of science — superior in every way, aside from the aggression. That's why I'm here, actually." His brows lift, as if he's just remembered. The Breloom had been an effective distraction. "You ever tried any kind of remedies out with yours, to make it less...?"

He gestures to his still-growling Sandslash, Gavin's presence the only thing keeping its fury restrained. "It's more for Lugia that this one, though."

He could handle a rogue Sandslash, even a shadowed one, but a legendary?

elijah scoffs. there is no fascination or curiosity to soften his stony face. rather, the apothecary seems to calcify further. he shifts in reverse like a man reeling from gorgon eyes before absolute petrification.

"i have. and nothing works." elijah says. "that's why i think they're monsters and don't deserve to see the light of day. we're better off without them."

he sneers, folding his arms across his hard chest.

"is your lugia misbehaving? finding it difficult to control? maybe we should just kill it."

Cillian Quinn

The mood of the room shifts in an instant, and Gavin's fervent expression sours to simmering rage. elijah gardner's sneer is met with a coldness to rival the growling Sandslash behind them.

"It obeys perfectly well. Perhaps you'd like to see for yourself?" His jaw shifts, sets. "I think you'd find it rather difficult to kill."

Gavin is known as a man of science. There are rumours, not unfounded, that he experiments on his own Pokemon. Yet there's something almost protective in the subtle shift of his posture, as if to place himself firmly between Sandslash and a man who thought it monstrous.

"Nothing's worked, so you just give up?" he challenges. "Are your Pokemon worth so little?"

"i'll take your word on it."

elijah wonders if his room's porthole window is frosting over. as the conversation grows frigid with tension, the apothecary is quick to crumble. he chews imaginary cud. a small grumble is grinded out from his teeth.

behind him, his breloom wheezes with heavy lungs.

"my work with breloom was personal." elijah says, defending himself quickly. flatly. he sucks his own tongue to mask discomfort. "duties for rocket take priority, unless you're asking me to find a cure? officially."

Cillian Quinn

Gavin's chilly demeanour abates ever-so-slightly when Elijah mentions a cure, a glint of curiosity betraying his interest. "Do you think you could?"

There's a beat before he adds, "Not that I'd want to cure my own, for they're perfectly obedient, but there have been... accidents."

His lip curls; it's clear what he thinks of those shadow Pokémon who have gone rogue. Not the fault of the Pokémon, but of a trainer whose presence is lacking in command. He hadn't released his Sandslash out of its containment until it obeyed, so none had witnessed its numerous attempts to drive claws through his throat.

"Would you want to cure it?" he wonders, nodding to Breloom. "Or is the risk of killing it too high?"

one accident was one too many. industrial notices take pride in never having to use their dry-erase eraser. days without accidents should never reach zero. then again, elijah understands that to confront a new frontier, stumbles must be made.

it's just these mishaps are too severe for his liking.

"maybe," elijah says, "but i fear it's way beyond my capabilities. i understand my limits. that's how i've survived this long."

for example, his limits prevent him from attending birthday parties with no real birthday boy.

"to be frank," elijah sighs, "i would want to cure my own." his breloom shudders, weighed down by toxin and tragedy. "seeing her—" he grumbles and bites down on regret like a bitter root.

"do you think you could take care of her?"

Cillian Quinn