Noticing her aversion to the miasma, however instinctual, softens Gavin's approach. He does not want her to be afraid of any part of him, especially not the power he was so proud of.

"It won't hurt you." Conscious of it, now, he wills it to retract — and it does, drifts back to him as if on some gentle breeze, curls around his silhouette and pools in the palm of an outstretched hand. There is a soft fascination in his amber eyes as he watches, before flicking his gaze back up to meet hers. "It makes me feel — good. Energized, I think."

He doesn't understand the extent of what it can do, what he can do, but there is confidence in the assumption that it won't hurt her, because he doesn't want to.

Her relent gives him a hopeful confidence, and he steps forward to close the distance between them. The hand that reaches up to brush her cheek is warm, human, bears the same ridge of scar tissue across its palm.

"I'm still me, love. I promise."

In the tense quiet, Gavin can hear the hitch of her breath as he steps close. It rattles as she exhales, but her hand lifts to touch his own regardless of whatever trepidation she felt. A warm gratitude settles in Gavin's chest, and he draws his thumb gently across her cheek.

Her fingers close around his own, her grip an anchor to his humanity. So long as he had someone to love, someone who loved him in return, he felt he would not lose himself to the nirvana of power. There was more at stake than his own mind.

"If there's anything you want to ask, for you I am an open book."

He kept many secrets, but not from her.

"There is nothing I have not told you." He feels the rhythm of her racing heart beneath his fingers, implores her belief through an earnest amber gaze. "You know more about me than Walsh does, I—"

He hesitates, a sudden nervous energy overtaking him. He owed much to the Rocket boss. Lugia had granted him avatarship of its own volition, but it had been Walsh to assist the ailing legendary and restore its mind.

"I think I ought to tell him, too. About who I am." It's clear that the revelation is sudden by the furrow of his brow, a frown tugging at his lips. He shakes his head as if to clear it. "But never mind that. I told you, Emma, because I trust you more than anyone."

He swallows as if bracing himself for a hard discussion.

"I am not unchanged," he admits. "I can feel Lugia's influence."

He had felt it when he'd stood against Darkrai; the corrupt legendary had fueled his lust for battle with its own, a fierce determination to fight, wound, win. The miasma had been an influence all on its own, his senses heightened and amplified. It had been exhilarating, for Gavin, but he believes that Emma Wolfe will see it differently. As manipulation rather than encouragement.

When it had spoken in Shoal Cave, Articuno's influence had presented itself as benevolent, calming. Lugia's felt darker, fiercer — yet Gavin welcomed it, for it burned away the insecurity he'd spent a lifetime trying to outrun.

"But it isn't a bad change. Not for me."

There is a long pause as he considers his own words, head tilted so that blond hair falls into his eyes. His lips purse with a thought, and then he nods. "I am. I don't intend to run."

Cillian Quinn had run from his past, but Gavin would not run from the present. Perhaps he wouldn't tell the whole of Rocket, but Walsh deserved to know. Chu-e Choi, as well. He'd come to trust his fellow underboss, and he believed he had Emma Wolfe to thank for his willingness to let others in. She has taught him that trust does not always equate to vulnerability, that love is not a weakness but a strength. He does not fear their partnership. He fears not getting too close to her, but driving her away instead.

So when she says those two words, marry me, as if they hadn't just discussed the severity of her mistrust in his bond with the corrupt legendary — Gavin is caught off guard. He blinks, slow, and the surprise settles on his features unhindered.

Then he laughs, the sound gentle and bearing no hint of mockery. The smile that curves his lips is genuine. "I didn't know you believed in marriage." She kept others at a distance; even him, at times, though they'd grown together into shared comfort. Though Lugia's influence on him is not inconsiderable, the giddy feeling of warmth and adoration that spreads through his chest is entirely his own. "If that's what you want, I — of course. In a heartbeat, I would. I will."

Too soon, some might suggest, for they've not been together a year, but they are far from a conventional pair. There would be hoops to jump through, details to discuss... but he was certain of one thing: "I love you, Emma. I would never push you away."

Any fears he may have had for their relationship are cleansed by an overwhelming, blazing love for her. Important though it was to him, even avatarship is momentarily forgotten in adoration.

"So do I."

It feels an ineloquent confirmation. How could he possibly put such feelings into words? Before Emma Wolfe he had been alone for a long, long time. Perhaps since birth he'd been isolated from the world, keeping even his own sister at a distance.

Her smile seems almost sad, but Gavin's grin is radiant in response.

In lieu of the words that would no doubt fail him, he abandons hesitation and kisses her fierce. He can't stop smiling, soft laughter in a pause for breath. "Marriage. Who'd have thought, the two of us?"

His hands wander: neck, chest, the curve of her waist.