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This was a reoccurring scene throughout his life, and seemed to be replayed more and more as the years came on. First it was just school, but then other institutions. Part of him had hoped he would fly under the radar after coming to Hoenn, but alas, wherever you went, there you were. The locals didn't care for him here anymore than they did back home, it seemed.
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Of course, who could have expected and all out invasion from another plane or place, chocked full of aliens and vicious pokemon? If the League did they had sure done a poor job of preparing for it. The region would likely carry the scars of the conflict for a while, and Andy personally wasn't even sure if it could be considered 'over.'
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At the summons, he opened the door to the room and stepped in, bereft of any of his typical pokemon companions. His gengar become highly awkward in human arguments, and his yanmega was a tad too overprotective. Once inside he took no seat, standing before his arbiter with hands crammed into his pockets. He gave no greetings, merely glowering in a Kubrick stare.
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He could already feel the heat crawling up this throat.

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Blackadder. Blackadder. Blackadder. That was always as much greeting as he ever got. It was a big part of the reason there were never any proffered hellos on his part. He certainly never got any. Only this smarmy statement of his name, as if he were merely a thing.
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At least it would be a name they would remember. Silph, a man he had really only heard about more than seen. He was the head of some corporation if he remembered right, as well as League bigwig. Who knew how he had time for both. And better yet, who cared.
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Thank fuck, he thought at the man's admission of their meeting's brevity. "Mauville," he answered sharply, as if he wanted to say it with too few syllables. His shoulders rose and fell in what was supposed to be a shrug, though he was far too tense for such a casual motion.
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"Got caught jaywalking."

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Scores a zero on 'sense of humor.' He observed internally, his gaze not softening one bit. It was unsurprising of course. Just the man's face looked as if the last time he had laughed was when he chuckled as an infant, only to be cast into the nearest wall for enjoying himself. Fun was probably considered a crime. Not that Mauville was what one would call 'fun.'
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Levity was a great coping tool, he had come to find. But then there were people like this who were just assholes. And then there were people like him who were funny assholes. Fernando didn't even consider him worth his time his time, it seemed. Duties were a pain in the ass like that, often sucking up time with 'menial' tasks. How often had he been a 'menial' task?
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Those are the pitfalls of having to do your job. Andy told himself, you picked to do two, so fuck your crying. You could quit and go back to crapping on your employees somewhere to feel better about being the Baby Bomb Champion. On the plus side, which consisted of a frighteningly thin strip of real estate, he did only think the boy was playing dumb.
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''And I need you to pretend like you haven't managed to miraculously cram both a stick and your head up your ass at the same time. It's cool and all you've seen the back of your own teeth, but if it's a waste of your time then stop aiming your bullshit down your nose at me, get to the point, and we can go our separate ways.''

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''Yeah, how much the League gives a shit about its people is real obvious,'' he mumbled when Frenando tallied his needs, or rather the lack there of. What the upper crust of the organization cared about wasn't a particularly large concern for him, clearly. While authority was always to be mocked to some degree, the entire situation with the war really made him see the League as fairly inept.
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And this was one of the men at its helm.
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Wait what? Andy blinked at the councilman's admission that he had done the right thing. That was more honesty than he had expected. In his experience of getting chewed out, which felt vast at this point in his life, most of the time no credit was given on his part. At best it was glossed over. There was more leverage for the authority figure that way.
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Perhaps it had only slipped out in anger, but respect where it was due. Besides, plenty of fun had been had in only she short time he was here. Broken hearts made for fragile egos, and fragile egos were so easily molested by naked tongues. He must have hit a nerve. Jail time right off the bat? The Blackadder boy wasn't the only one who could throw a tantrum.
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''All that haughty shit, and you're quick to bring out the bludgeon the instant it falls through.'' He shakes his head as if in disappointment, but it isn't. This Fernando is exactly who he expected: a boy in a suit. ''Shame when duty don't bring you no happiness, mate.'' A smirk tugged the corner of his mouth, but there was nothing snide in the expression. It quickly faded, as his arms crossed.
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''I got a guardian. And I already stay at a fucking prison, trust me.'' If it wasn't his aunt's wine parties filled with other middle aged ladies it was his dead uncle wandering the halls wailing and crying. Or at least his aunt at told him that the yamask used to be his uncle. Who knew if that was true? His eyes widened for a moment at the mental vision before he rolled them, and shut them.
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''That all you wanted then? Say your piece?'' He had seen what he wanted to, and gotten a little amusement out of it even. ''You can spin the PR however you like, money bags. Shit, maybe me being there will distract from you letting that Julian or whoever the fuck slip off scott free to be shit out of a another sky asshole anywhere he likes whenever he fucking pleases.''
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Perhaps he could still walk away with nothing more than a little knowledge gained about just who it was that called the shots within the League, but if not then it would be a minor setback. Silph wasn't the only one who had a family fortune and money talked, a lot better than he actually did. Barring that, he could always play dirtier, though there were some depths even he felt were too grody to stoop.

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Efficiency? Well, it wasn't the word he would use to describe the League, but everyone had a right to their opinion. If a 'little' tongue lashing didn't phase the man, then he could test his mettle against a life time of them after this. Perhaps a punitive measure, but one Andy would ensure was to be an existence-spanning Pyrrhic victory, at best, and a complete nightmare at worst.
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His chest felt hotter and hotter, the fire once again growing into his throat as Silph blathered on, though the words were not without weight. It wouldn't be the first time he had been confined, and likely wouldn't be the last, especially with this powerful enemy he had made, and foolish as it seemed would continue to antagonize for as long as his lungs held breath in them.
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Let's see... The wheels of his mind were already turning on how to pass the time of his imprisonment. Surely a man of his status had a pokepedia page. Some creative edits to that were in order. 'Fernando Silph likes to pull his dick through his sleeve, so people will shake his dick.' Yeah, that sounds good.
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His shoulders only grew more rigid, his arms tighter around torso as the man continued. He spoke with authority, but no passion. To the youth, there was no good reason for his actions, just because he could. Well, he could do a lot of things. Death by a thousand cuts, was a death all the same. 'The head of the Silph Co. once came in first place in the Posterchild for Abortion contest, and went on to pioneer several semen based cooking recipes.' Finally, the elder male seemingly delivered his coup de grace.
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''Head-up-your ass disease run in your family? I guess your rectum obscuring your vision would explain the IQ crippling cognitive dissonance, you absolute empty shell of a charlatan. Willingness to cooperate is the only fucking way to survive combat and hold strong in the thick of war. What, you think I did everything at Mauville myself?'' He scoffed. ''I have use for allies. I have no use for assholes.''
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''Talk with all the authority you like,'' his arms unfolded for his shoulders shrug sharply. ''Misuse all the authority you like, even the bullshit flowing freely out of that half deflated basketball you call a face proves you don't know dicks from donuts. Wouldn't be surprised if the only thing occupying that fucking empty cranium is a growlithe turd and a calculator, you bloody vacant suit. Is it any wonder that the League is a lumbering, ineffective bureaucracy when tools like you pat yourselves on the back with words like, 'efficient'.'' Sucking his teeth, he continued... for weal or for woe.
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''The only thing it seems like you lot have been efficient at is fucking up royally.'' He was following their example well enough. Sticks and stone might break bones, but bones healed. Words wounded egos and in those egos bitterness grew, a disease that would last a lifetime and was more contagious than one might think. An egg might not defeat a rock, but an egg had the potential to be a rooster, or at least a good meal.
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A rock only became dirt.
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''You ain't the only one with deep pockets, bougie boy,'' he growled thrusting a finger at the man before it coiled and his thumb appeared and he thrust it back himself. ''I think I'll hang onto that juice box. I'll need it to gas up the pisser when they finally put you in the ground. Today might be yours,'' the finger was thrust again, ''but tomorrow will be mine.'' And the thumb returned again.
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A universal truth regardless of their conflict. Unless the boy died first.
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''Guess I'll see your goons in the lobby you pompous crotch goblin,'' he spun on his heel with a rage-fueled grace, flipping a bird over his shoulder. ''I'll be wasting your time again in the near future.'' And with that he stormed out, slamming the door with gusto behind him. Once in the hall, his pace quickened and Epitaph looked up from where he had been waiting.
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Five minutes. Just like always. Andy pulled the gengar's pokeball from his pocket and tossed it to his pokemon. The creature caught it clumsily in both hands, his crimson gaze giving the boy a look weighed by worry. There was usually yelling in his run-in's with authority, but this time, his trainer must have been in truly deep shit.
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''Disappear.'' The gravity in his typically playful tone had the gengar's grin mashed as flat as it could go. ''Gengar...'' The creature tossed the ball in the air slightly, his maw opening to catch it with his tongue. With a gulp, it was gone and then he poofed, dissipating into a purple mist that at least looked like it faded from existence.
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The reality was somewhat different.

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