Gavin's lips purse at the bite in her tone. "That is exactly the point. You will rarely be in your element where Rocket is involved."

How bitter he had been in his youth, the first time they'd forced him beyond his comfort. He had been too proud and hot-headed to understand the usefulness of such lessons. peggie vela, he thought, was not dissimilar.

He listens without interruption as she lays the groundwork of her plan, nodding or shaking his head as necessary. Yes, they'd do best to avoid any sort of authority. No, there wasn't likely to be anyone at the beach in the middle of winter. He does not mention that Galar's beaches, at least in his experience, were miserable during the best weather. His own hatred for the ocean skewed such a viewpoint and Gavin was more than aware of it.

"What if there were a port we did have ties in? Theoretically."

His smile flashes quick and sharp.

Her smile is sweeter than Gavin's, softer. How long before Rocket stole whatever softness the girl had left?

"We've contacts in Galar," Gavin tells her. "Rather influential ones, at that."

He doesn't tell her that one such contact is a Galarian prince. The less thought awarded to the royal family, the better; Remiel Calcifet's connections were, at least, beneficial to Rocket, Gavin's personal feelings toward the crown aside.

"Best let me do the talking where anyone unaffiliated is concerned." Gavin's accent settles into its native Galarian cadence; the proper, schooled tone reminds him of his father. His disgust is well-hidden. "You'll handle dealings with our contact. We're going to exchange our cargo with a different load, to be brought back to Hoenn."

Her body language suggests discomfort. Gavin's gaze drops deliberately to her hands as she shoves them in her pockets, then flicks back to her face.

There is marked difference in her vocalization when she's nervous. He notes the verbal fumble.

"Yes," he confirms. She had, at least, deigned to ask a question this time. "We are going to deliver these Kantonian Slowpoke to our client, who will offer Galarian variants in their stead."

Though the embargo between the two regions had been lifted some time ago, the Black Market offered quicker and cheaper means of acquiring the non-native species. In Galar, Slowpoke tails were a forbidden delicacy; their own Slowpoke were poisonous, and couldn't be consumed safely.

Her attempts to appear confident fall flat against a trained eye, but Gavin doesn't bring them up directly. Instead, he levels her with a gaze that sees right through the façade.

"Have you done this before? I was under the impression you had experience."

Upon which side of the coin might she land: overconfidence, or honesty? He waits, expectant.

Honesty, then. Good.

Her candid, albeit clipped response is rewarded with a patience Gavin would not have otherwise displayed; he nods along with the explanation, his placid expression never faltering in frustration. Truthfully, he had expected this.

It's why they were doing it here, in Galar, with Remiel Calcifet's connections and little threat of things going awry.

"When we arrive, I'll point our man out to you. He's been told ahead of time to expect us, and he'll have prepared his supply in advance." As their conversation continues, Galar looms larger in the distance; Gavin's memories bring the docks into his mind's eye long before they'll reach them. "He'll speak carefully to ward off listening ears. I expect you know to do the same. Most likely, he'll inquire after the ease of our trip and the status of the cargo."

What peggie vela doesn't know is that Gavin's been schooled by a Rocket with smuggling experience to fill in any gaps the girl might leave in her inexperience. He hopes he won't need the knowledge.

There's a certain innocence in her anticipation of reprimand. Gavin recognizes it as if she's a shadow of his younger self, the expectation of a strike that, inexplicably, did not always come.

His father had liked to keep him guessing. If there was a pattern, he could harden against it.

It's a reminder of how young she is, how vulnerable. How young he'd been when his world fell apart around him and he'd been left to pick up the pieces. How those pieces had led him, too, into Rocket's waiting web.

They had made their choices, and now they must live with them.

"I am not worried."

Soon, the ship huddles close to damp docks where Wingull cry overhead and a flood of familiar accents overwhelm Gavin's senses. He gestures, silent, to the man that peggie vela is meant to meet, and loses himself to memory.