[attr="class","spiral"] How wrong she is.

The climate and culture behind the League may shift with its never-ending revolving doors but Fernando’s alcoholism is as stable as his cynicism. A much cheaper and accessible bottle of scotch sits on his desk, barely touched but freshly opened, accompanied with a glass poured on the rocks. The precipitation pools where the glass touches the cherri coaster, evident that it’s been sitting for a while.

The door opens and Fernando turns up from his computer screen. His own expression uncharacteristically lights up at the sudden introduction of an outside force. Anything beats the dreary paperwork that comes from an incident they have no knowledge about. He can’t even discern anything noteworthy from the second hand accounts of the Blackout of Slateport, much less lie his way through a press conference about it.

Katherine’s interruption is a chance at a much needed change of pace.

“Fairburne.”

And then she dashes all hope with something he both needs and doesn’t: an actual lead.

His expression dies as does the ache in his back. He straightens his posture before resigning himself to a nod of acknowledgement. “Something substantial, I presume?”

[attr="class","spiral"]“Indeed.”

It comes off a bit curt but Katherine’s knack for being more straightforward makes her easier to work with than a particular handful of League representatives that come to mind. She’s no cait alfric but something about the way Mauville Gym Leader’s conduct themselves earn his interest, one way or another.

Fernando, exhausted past his prime, is not as attentive as Katherine. The mistletoe goes ignored for now. He’s much too preoccupied with wrapping up his current tab and rising from his seat to greet his guest.

“Fuck.”

With a groan, Fernando stands at attention, rolling the stiff of his neck as he approaches. He meets her halfway, frowning. “You okay, Fairburne?” The break in her voice seems unnatural for her based off their previous interactions. Admittedly, he had been a rough with her during their last exchange but he’s never seen his MIND ALTERING mist last for more than a day.

He leans in, scowl and all, examining her face for a tell, probing for something he doesn’t know he’s looking for.

[attr="class","spiral"] Something’s wrong. That much is obvious. But how much is he willing to pry between his own matters and needs?

Just enough, apparently.

Up close and personal, even Fernando can’t miss the subtle flush of her skin. Her explanation connects the dots and he falters for a moment, at a loss for words, before breaking out in a vindictive smirk. It’s not workplace harassment if it’s in the spirit of Christmas.

“Like red velvet.”

And this time Fernando learns from last year.

Slow and meaningful is more than enough to take your breath away.

[attr="class","spiral"]They break contact and he’s left yearning for more. His eyes remain closed, grimacing at the sound of her walking right past him, leaving him to lick his lips in anticipation of a second helping that never comes. There goes his four minutes of leisure for the day and how anti-climatic.

Disappointment drains from his face in the same manner as their ‘mood’, an immediate dead-still without a remnant of the moment before. Keeping a muffled sigh to himself, Fernando straightens his collar.

“Noted.”

It’s a return to business and his better judgement tells him to maintain his distance from her.

“That bad, huh?”

His eyes linger on the mistletoe before turning in place.

[attr="class","spiral"]The advent of actual news kills any lingering appetite he has for debauchery. He had expected something, yes, but nothing of this magnitude. Adding another Ultra Beast to the list expands their test subjects for a subsequent invasion. While most are happy that the war is over, Fernando expects a second wave well into the future.

And if he’s anything, he’s vigilant; it’s only a matter of time.

“Fairburne.”

His voice drops. He’s softer this time, not out of guilt — he cares little for her predicament when the smell of profit reeks from her misfortune — but out of a well played out concern.

“Be careful. I can secure you a supply of antidotes but the way Nihilego affected Dahlia…”

A lot still remains off record. Everyone else may forgive and forget but Fernando keeps his skepticism. There’s no telling the next time she’ll ‘unplug’ someone for one reason or another.

“It goes beyond our understanding. Even now.”

[attr="class","spiral"]“Indeed, but I presume you have no intentions of giving it up. I wouldn’t.”

Everyone has secrets. Fernando keeps his out in the open. Makes it easier for him to claim that there’s nothing to hide. Among them, the amount of Legendary he has under his employment is something not even the League has a count on. Given the prospects, he’d keep the Nihilego too.

The difference is he doesn’t under estimate it.

“I mean beyond that. You can control it, you can tame it, but what about the consequence beyond? If it swallowed you then that means you were exposed. Think about what that means for your body in the future. The worst poisons are the ones that take years to detect.”

His eyes focus on her figure. They start from the waist and work their way up her body and across the length of her arms. He can’t discern any obvious changes but he remains suspicion. At least until she diverts his attention with other news.

“Fuck.”

Moltres, he can handle. But Lugia?

The revelation, if it’s to be believed, spells disaster for his holiday. He’s not one to be festive but even the councilman enjoys what little free time that he has. Having to compound the Blackout of Slateport with an additional investigation into the Legendary’s involvement means more overtime. His frustration pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he makes a mental note to meet with Stormy Silph.

“Fuck. That’s actually the most useful report I’ve heard in weeks.”

For that, he’s grateful, even if he secretly resents her for her timing.

[attr="class","spiral"]“Shit.”

More Ultra Beasts? How many? Any new species? A dozen more questions pop up and each a new variable that alters the chessboard that is Fernando’s Hoenn. The only solace is that none of them have gone on a rampage yet. But even that is troublesome. Hiding in plain site means that they’re out there and either proving elusive or being held by someone.

“I suppose they were right about it being a battle.”

That explains all the missing person. What it doesn’t explain is why there was so little evidence left behind. Sure, the darkness obscured anyone from really reporting what happened but the aftermath was nearly picked clean.

"What happened? Everything’s damaged but there’s no residue.”

Which means they’re able to clean up after themselves. That adds to the danger of them hiding and a recent report about Megalopolan’s near Mauville triggers a headache.

“And how’d you manage to beat it?”

He pauses.

“You did beat it, right?”