Rowan would see a sharp smile curl across Gavin's lips; in contrast to the other's panic, the scuba-clad stranger appears calm and unconcerned by the man's fight-or-flight instinct.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Muted flashes of red light reveal more of his Pokémon: a snarling Sandslash who spreads frost from its claws, a Corviknight whose metal wings glint dangerously in the pale light, and an Eelektross whose maw reveals razor-sharp shards of crystal in place of teeth.

"It wouldn't end well for you, or your friend here."

As Gavin gestures to the terrified Piplup, a sudden breeze disrupts the still air of the underwater cavern. Wisps of dark fog curl through the cave, and the Sandslash at the front of the pack growls. Gavin lifts a hand, and the creature falls silent.

"Strange thing to say for a man with nothing to hide." Gavin's laughter echoes. "What am I meant to believe you know nothing about?"

Rowan Wrynn is scared, which is good — fear meant desperation, meant he might say more than was wise in an attempt to save his own skin.

"I want to know what you're after. Ask too many questions, you're bound to attract the wrong kind of attention."

He wouldn't be the first to indulge a dangerous curiosity, but he was the first to ask the right people, where Gavin was concerned. Rocket's intelligence network wasn't infinite, but it was far-reaching enough in Hoenn that Rowan had tripped more than one alarm with his inquiries. From what surveillance he'd performed, Wrynn had no shadow Pokémon of his own.

Why, then, was he so curious about them?

Gavin listens without interruption, a slight sneer the only hint toward his thoughts.

"Galar, you say?"

Perhaps Rowan Wrynn would realise, in that moment, exactly what mistake he's made. Gavin drops his carefully crafted accent to allow his natural Galarian to come through, edged as it was by Hoennian flair. Too much time spent in this region... but not so much to forget his homeland.

"Shadow Pokémon are native to Hoenn... but you didn't know that, did you?" The smile returns, curved and cruel. "You'd have to know the right people, have access to the right information..."

"I know your name."

He does not elaborate on how he'd learned it, nor what else he might have discovered. Only a single, ominous statement. Wrynn Technologies were enough of a name in Galar to ring a distant bell, though Gavin couldn't say exactly where he'd heard it before.

Behind the mask, unseen to Rowan Wrynn, his eyes narrow.

"Permanently?" There's an edge to his tone that hadn't been present before. "How much are those research files worth to you?"

There's an undercurrent of threat Gavin doesn't try to hide. From somewhere back toward the cavern's entrance comes the distinct sound of something breaching the surface. A distorted grumble echoes in the distance.

"How willing are you to ensure the League never gets their hands on them?"

"No, you can't."

So it was freedom Rowan Wrynn was after. From who, or what? It doesn't take long to get his answer: they must be his family, the ones whose sensitive information now rested within the youth's hands. Interesting. An unexpected angle, but one Gavin could play with.

He's surprised when Rowan steps toward him, but neither hesitates nor makes any move toward further violence. The Sandslash growls and clicks its claws together, but does not attack without command from its master.

"Kill you?" Gavin laughs. "It's your information I want, not your life. You'll get no favors defending the League, kid. You're new to Hoenn, so I'll give you this for free: the League looks out for its own interests. You won't find your freedom there."

He shakes his head. "Hoenn was one of the worst places you could have run."

Gavin only smiles wider at Rowan Wrynn's indignant expression. He'd stepped into a trap, and now he was well aware of it.

"You're of more use to me alive than dead," he elaborates, as casually as if they were chatting about the weather. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I definitely could kill you if I wanted to, but where's the fun in that?"

The smile turns almost sad, wistful, as Rowan admits Hoenn to be his only, desperate chance. Now that was a shame.

"See, the League's in talks with Galar. Got their help during the war, and all that. Galar wants you, the League'll hand you over on a silver platter if they think it'll be to their political benefit." Whether or not that was true mattered little to Gavin in that moment; it was believable enough to run with, knowing the history between the regions. "I'm afraid I can't help you," and he pauses, deliberately, savoring the drama of it all, "but I have friends who can. For a price."

Given the conversation thus far, Gavin's price is fairly clear.

"You've got to really want it, though. This is, ah... let's call it a one-way street." He wonders, then, how much Rowan has heard about Team Rocket since arriving in Hoenn. "Don't get me wrong: this isn't blackmail. Not our style. You want to leave, be my guest." He steps aside, then, reveals the yawning darkness from whence they'd come. "But if you breathe a word to the League, well... it wouldn't be personal, but..."

His smile is sharp, deadly.