A young man looks up from whatever he'd been doing, eying the girl curiously and responding with an autopilot, "Hi," when she greets him. He grins a bit at the slip-up, then glances back at his phone. "He's not here right now, but I could schedule something for you..."

It's likely not the answer she's looking for. Thankfully, she's saved the trepidation of waiting by Gavin's coincidental appearance.

"Hello, Serena. Ellis." Dark circles under Gavin's eyes suggest a lack of sleep, but there's nothing sluggish in his movements and there's a certain gleam in his amber eyes. He looks the part of an office worker with his phone in one hand and a coffee from the dining hall in the other, steam rising lazily from the cup to suggest the direction he'd come from. "Did I hear something about a meeting?"

The latter question is posed to Serena directly, and he gestures to the foreboding metal door to his office. With a gentle jingle, a Klefki shivers off his belt. A dull clunk suggests the portal to be unlocked, and Gavin shoves against it with his shoulder. His office is stark, utilitarian, metal walls and metal floors and a single window to the ocean. A desk marks the center of the room, with a Porygon-Z's pokeball slotted into some sort of device that allows it to project imagery. The Porygon seemed, at present, to be dormant.

Gavin sits down, gesturing for Serena to do the same if she wished, and takes a long sip of his coffee. "How can I help you?"

Gavin lifts his chin in acknowledgement when she mentions his proposal, the pieces clicking into place. He had not forgotten his offer, but he had not immediately assumed it to be the reason for her visit; Rocket was full of proud folk too stubborn to ask for help.

A smirk curls his lips, doesn't meet his eyes but presents an impression of pleasure nevertheless. He does not interrupt, merely inclining his head as if inviting her to continue. His gaze is one of cool amber, steady as she lifts hers to meet it.

"I am very busy," he agrees at last. The smile returns, slow. "But never too busy for one with ambition and promise. Few have the courage to seek me out directly, and I am not one to turn down an opportunity."

It was good for him, as well — to have Rockets whose abilities he could nurture to benefit the organization he helped to lead.

He slides a carton from a desk drawer and lifts a cigarette between long fingers, asks, "Do you smoke?" It comes across as an offer, the carton nudged toward the surface's center. "You can say no," he adds, for too many that worked for him seemed pressured by such questions. He lights the cigarette and takes a deep drag, exhaling dark miasma past his lips. "What skills do you wish to hone?"

Her words, her offer is dangerous, and a well-trained eye might see the predatory glint in Gavin's own. He had not clawed his way to the top with kindness and good deeds; his image was one of blood and steel.

"It will be no problem to hone your skills in battle. I'm no stranger to it, and Admin Wolfe is a specialist." By now, most in Rocket who paid any attention would know of his relationship with Emma Wolfe. Gavin made no attempt to conceal it. "If you wish to be a weapon, I can oblige. But I must also advise you to be careful what you wish for. I train my Pokémon to kill." There's a pause before he catches his own wording and amends, "I will not put you nor your Pokémon in danger during our training, but the League will. Their tactics have evolved to counter our own."

His amber eyes narrow, a phantom pain settling in his wrist.

"My regiment requires great strength of will. Are you prepared?"

There's something off about Serena Malcolm when she speaks sarcastically of death, but Gavin doesn't pry. If it's something she wants to elaborate on in the future, it'll come out in its own time.

He hums low in his throat, a pleased sound, when she agrees.

"Then we'll begin as soon as our schedules allow. Until then, I expect you to ensure you're in peak physical form. The League are not beyond attacking us directly, now, and it's imperative you're in a condition to defend yourself. I can teach you that, too."

His wrist twinges as if in reminder.

Gavin nods, curt. "I'll send you the guidelines that I use; we can tailor them to suit you."

She's fortunate, he thinks, that it was 'new' Rocket responsible for her combat training. She would have cuts and bruises where he'd suffered scars and broken bones. He would build her up instead of breaking her down.

An apologetic grimace is offered as his Rotom phone whirs to life, its eyes flashing to indicate a message had been sent. "I'm afraid that's all the time I can offer for today, but I'll be in touch." If his words were not dismissal enough, the heavy metal door swings open, seemingly of its own accord. "Best of luck with your new charge."