[attr="class","spiral"]"Bullshit."

It's the expected answer but he doesn't buy it. He doesn't buy anything. Even when it's the truth. This time however, he has a few tools in his bag. He'll start with the scalpel. Dissecting the skin of statements is always the most fun. Underneath the thin veil of each premise is a mountain of flesh to unearth, where they contradict is where the vein lies, eager for someone to give it just the right snip.

"You create programs for randoms, sure. Not machines. Not systems. Not logically."

He sets the laptop down on the coffee table. She gains his attention in the turn of his head. Whatever strain a couple of hours of screen time earn him get rerouted straight on her figure. The way he scowls, it's no wonder his face is perpetually unhappy.

"If you want to go back to sleep I can have someone feed you with an IV or something. Wouldn't be the first time."

[attr="class","spiral"]"Because I'd know about it."

He breaths a sigh heavy enough for the both of them before considering his approach. He has some time to kill and he rather not put her to sleep for a third time today. Based off his calculations, he needs to buy time for Tapu Fini just as much as she needs to for her freedom.

"How many people were in your little 'gang' back in Galar? How many of them were smarter than you?"

[attr="class","spiral"]“Couple hundred. Impressive. And all of them stupider than you too? Good job.”

The way he phrases it is both sarcastic and condescending. Not that he doesn’t believe her. On raw talent alone, from what little he’s seen, plus the inquiry about Porygon, he’s willing to bet on her. But that only proves his next point.

“Hundreds of people more vulnerable than you. Most of them will crack. It becomes a number’s game then. One by one, until something pops. They might not give me everything, maybe not even a lot, but they will slip. All I need is something, just the slightest detail, and over time I’ll have all the pieces I need for my little puzzle.”

Applying that to the Dragon’s doesn’t mean much. Not when they’re protected by an ocean and raw distance. But he’s not talking about them. It’s just an analogy.

“Now apply that to Hoenn. You’re not the first in here and you won’t be the last. Someone will crack and when I know enough your time will have expired.” He doesn’t waver. “How do you think I ended Team Rocket the last time they appeared? How do you think I knew about the Megalolpolans?”

[attr="class","spiral"]"Dragons? I don't care about some minor league no-names."

Fernando stops himself short of scoffing. To even compare such an insignificant force to the main players he's alluding to is disrespectful to both him and them. He's offended on their behalf.

"Aether, Megalopolans, Marco Cosmos, Team Rocket. Whoever you're tying hands with. Eventually, it'll come to light."

That or—

"Or this all proves inconsequential and you've wasted my time and your life away."

[attr="class","spiral"]Fernando hates being refused. For minor inconveniences, he’ll stomach it if inconsequential. But for matters that hold significant meaning? Well, she’s here now. If he can force his hand he will. All it takes is someone with the means and personality to stomp through the rest.

Conquers are built on the trampled bodies of the people they’ve stepped on.

“Not in a zero-sum game.”

The way his tongue clicks cut her excuse in half. He interrupts her without care because she is wrong. Whatever she says is meaningless because she’s wrong. And it’s his job to correct her.

“You showed me too much. I warned you not to do it again, not in front of others, and you escalated it because you were too stubborn to accept it.” He can feel the deja vu. He’s had this conversation before. “That’s on you.”

[attr="class","spiral"]And he’s okay with that. Their conversation has ran its course. Out of his own twisted sense of mercy, he’s entertained her for far too long. At this point, it seems she won’t succumb to his demands so he’ll have no choice but to eliminate her to tie up loose ends. Much like her, he’s shown her too much. Not enough to ruin him but enough so that it’ll complicate things beyond what he’s comfortable with.

Thankfully, he knows how to pull the plug and be thorough about it.

An awkward silence sets in before they’re interrupted by a doorbell ring. Fernando slips into his façade like complimentary slippers, answering it between the crack and thanking the delivery person with a small nod. “Thank you,” he coos in the same manner he’d jostle her back at Kaleidoscope, amicable, friendly, before shutting the door.

He returns with two bags of food way too large to fit between two people. He sets them at the coffee room table, untying the half-hearted knot to reveal a sudden stream of steam and aromas.