He has not been in Rocket long, but it's long enough to feel like this is a trap. Still, he goes, because he has been in Rocket long enough to understand that it was not a choice. They'd taught him that day one.

A dark bruise along his jaw suggests other lessons learned. He winces as a careless patron stumbles against him, shoves them away with more force than necessary in knee-jerk response to the sudden pain in tender ribs. He bares his teeth when they look at him, postures until they decide against altercation and stagger toward the door. Disappointment settles; he'd been hoping for an excuse.

His stomach flutters nervously at the sight of the man who'd summoned him here, but cold feet still carry him to their destination.

He slides into the booth, wincing but swallowing complaint. If Theo looked up, Gavin would meet his gaze for a moment before dropping his own. Skin crawls.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

[attr="class","beck"]theo knows he doesn't have to look up. he hears the approaching footsteps, feels the movement of the booth, and only peers up after silence is broken.

"been well, merlino?"

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

After dropping his gaze, Gavin studies his hands. His nails, well-manicured, bear no trace of blood beneath them. One has been ripped clean off, raw red skin healing beneath. He'd given the other grunt as good as he'd got.

He is not doing well.

Theo knows this. Gavin is sure he knows it, sure he revels in the way the question makes his stomach turn. Impulse sees his gaze snap up, mouth open as if to make some smart retort, before fear catches him in its cold embrace.

He looks back down. Swallows pride and bile.

"Been all right, sir." At least they let him experiment. "Yourself?"

He hopes Theo has been having an awful day.

[attr="class","beck"]theo watches as the natural urge to retort rises within gavin, mouth opening, but nothing escapes except willful obedience. he smiles a little, approving.

"lovely. know why we're here?"

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Through lowered gaze he catches the quirk of Theo's lips and loathes the flood of relief that follows.

Weak— but no, he tells himself, this is survival.

He knew the pretense under which he had been invited here, but he'd known from the jump that it was false. Chill pricks at the back of his neck. What sort of test was this?

"No," he admits, and shakes his head.

[attr="class","beck"]a raised hand catches the attention of the barkeep, and after a subtle gesture, a drink finds its way to the table. he slides the glass of dark beer over to merlino, beckoning.

"don't be shy. drink."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Shy. His lip curls at the word.

The smell of alcohol reminds him of home in the worst ways, but he does not protest. He lifts the glass to his lips, drinks, and hopes for all the world that the bartender was not in league with Theo to have him poisoned.

"Piss," he mutters, nose wrinkling at the taste, then asks, "So why am I here?"

[attr="class","beck"]disrespect is often met with forceful reprimand, but for tonight, he allows the comment to pass. he takes a sip of his drink and uses the brief moment to glance around the room. his eyes land on a particular person, a man, younger than them, that looks as though he could barely be in here. but he soon returns his attention to merlino.

"the kid at the bar wearing black. see him?" he points. he wears a pitch-black suit and sips at his drink like it's his first. "he'd just come from his brother's funeral."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

The boy looks young, yet there's a sadness draped across the slope of his shoulders. Humanity not yet quashed beneath Rocket's heel stirs in Gavin's stomach.

"Oh," is all he says at first, not making the connection. Why did Theo care?

Then it hits him. Gavin, as Theo likes to point out, is not a stupid man.

"Oh." His brother's funeral. The brother you killed. Gavin's glass thuds against worn wood as he sets it down. "That's — that's fucked, mate, why would you tell me that?"

Defiance sparks, and he looks up at Theo with anger and mistrust.

[attr="class","beck"]"why do you think?"

this time, theo wants him to connect the dots himself. nothing is aired but indifference, an expression as cold as the summit of mount silver. he pushes away what little of his drink is left and returns his attention to the book.

"make it quick."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Like the peak of a rollercoaster, Gavin's stomach clenches and then drops.

"No way." His throat goes dry at the refusal, fear in widened eyes, but he doesn't move to obey. "You — he's not Rocket. You said. He's a civilian, why would we—"

He's rambling, cuts himself off with another head shake.

[attr="class","beck"]"no, but his brother was. see, we won't just kill you if you betray us. we'll kill the people close to you — your family, your lover, anyone and everyone you care about."

he turns the page, continuing.

"that, is the price of broken loyalty."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

Saoirse.

He is not religious, but Gavin prays they never find his secrets buried deep.

"No," he says again, shakes his head as if to dispel unwanted thought. He physically recoils, back pressed against leather that groans with the movement. "I proved myself already, I killed for you — you've got others for this, I know you do."

How naïve he had been to assume he'd be allowed to experiment in peace.