At 2:00PM on the dot, Gavin looks at his phone. His lips press into a thin, dissatisfied line.

Eleven minutes later, the door to his office opens. It is not without warning; the thick metal door is heavy, groans with the effort of being forced aside. The underboss blinks at his unwanted guest, takes in her frazzled appearance and the flush to her cheeks. It would seem she hadn't spent his wasted time on pulling herself together.

She knocks, belated. He stares, and does not speak.

It's not until she's finished her introductions that he moves at all, opening a drawer in his desk to deposit his phone. There's a pleasant, jingling sound, and the now-closed door glows with a faint, pink energy.

"Next time, you won't be late." He gestures to a chair. "Sit."

Gavin is, admittedly, incredibly curious as to how she'd come to that conclusion. It shows in the tilt of his head, the furrow of his brow, but he doesn't ask. The desk drawer into which his phone had been deposited is locked, too, but this time Klefki merely presents Gavin with its key.

@robbin contains within her the seemingly limitless energy of youth, fidgeting with thoughts the underboss can't fathom.

"Your file marks you as a recent recruit." He'd read it thoroughly before the meeting. "Robbin. What is it that you hope Team Rocket will do for you?"

She talks over him with excitement, rather than arrogance, and he lets it slide. There is a long pause before he speaks again, as if expecting her to find some new tangent on which to run.

When she doesn't, he says, "A wizard would hardly give up their secrets." The same, gentle jingle that preceded the door's closure sounds again as the Klefki floats up above the desk. It seems to understand that @robbin is drawn to it, hovers close and spins so that its collection of keys rattles in greeting. "The door is heavy; it closed on its own because of gravity, nothing more. Klefki only locked it."

It had been a fairy lock, to be precise. Gavin doesn't explain the reasoning behind locking the door.

"Should you use your collection to our benefit, Rocket will certainly aid you in acquiring more. Now, how far are you willing to go for us?"

The mood in the room shifts with his intensity, long fingers laced as he leans foward.

Mawile seems to catch Gavin's attention, expression shifting to one of keen interest even if he doesn't comment.

He thinks, after @robbin's jest, that he understands her earlier remark.

As he'd expected it would, her bright and youthful demeanor shifts with the mood of the room. Good. It means she's taking him seriously, that she sees Rocket for what they are and not through the ideals of youth. That she hadn't, as Gavin had in his youth, seen power without consequence.

"Your expectations are realistic. Good. It means you'll be careful. It means you won't run, even if you're given the option, because you understand what will happen if you do." She is right to see him as devil; there is a darkness that lingers in his gaze — and beyond it, invisible, the reason it exists at all. Orders are orders. Blindly, even if it kills you. He blinks, and it's gone. "Then I expect we'll work well together."

He pulls out a pokeball, sets it on his desk, and presses the button. A Mimikyu emerges from its prison, a flash of something dark vanishing beneath a well-kept fabric disguise. Its 'head' lolls as it looks at Robbin.

"Consider this a gesture of faith." He picks up the empty ball and tosses it lightly toward her. "Do well for Rocket, and see that favour returned."

"That's right."

He watches her interaction with the Mimikyu, takes notes in the fabric of his mind. The gift had served a purpose twofold: loyalty, and experiment. Would she treat it as tool, or trusted companion? Her demeanor suggests the latter.

It seems to have brightened her spirit, but he trusts she will not forget the gravity of his lesson. He shakes his head.

"No. Do you need anything from me?"