Adrian hesitates to respond at first, recognizing the voice's tone.

"Adrian. I'm... in a bind."

Tapping nervously against the wall by the landline he'd been escorted to use, Adrian knew this call was tapped, so he had to be careful. Any casual slip of the tongue might undo any chance of escaping this worst of possible outcomes.

"They've got a case. I'm being held," he began in earnest, progressively losing his cool. "You gave me the number." Adrian wasn't even entirely sure they could help him, or that they would. It would cost him rather dearly, he imagined. Nothing came cheaply...

"I'm sure they've got a cozy box picked out for me..." His voice began to drift as he tried once again to adjust to what was happening, but it all just felt so surreal. "I doubt it'll get that far, but—" Adrian knew they would shoot him if he tried to muscle his way out of there, but it was all too tempting a last resort should his freedom seem beyond his own reach. But he felt monstrous even considering it.

"Can you—" But what was he going to ask of him? What could even be done?

He didn't want to think about it any further. Adrian presses the phone back against its receiver with a click, ending the phone call without an answer. Somewhere in Slateport jail he's about to be booked, where they'll take his fingerprints and other forensic evidence. As it happens he's not a citizen, so the legal mumbo-jumbo keeps them tied up for awhile longer as they try to avoid creating an international incident. What's more, his endorsement by the League and continued efforts towards Hoenn's greater benefit leaves the processes stymied as his notoriety precedes him. All of this affords Gavin time to act, but the window is narrow and closing faster than he'd like.