[attr="class","beck"]the weight on his shoulders is immense, perssure building because he knows what failure entails. he cannot afford it — despite all he's been through, he values his life as much as the next survivor.

the sudden knocks on his door pulls him away from his thoughts. he closes a leather-bound book, slides it back into his blazer, and takes a moment to breathe.

"come in."

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

Gavin is thrumming with energy, eyes wide and alert despite the bags beneath them. Yet he's still quiet and careful as he slips into the familiar office, hands catching the door to let it close slowly behind.

"I've thought of a solution, sir."

He's getting ahead of himself; this isn't a task Theo had assigned him. Conditioning holds despite the free flow of his thoughts: he doesn't sit, for he hasn't been told to, doesn't pace despite his pent-up energy. His hands are the tell, fingers twitching.

"For the upcoming operation," he clarifies, rushed, "For how we might communicate."

[attr="class","beck"]suspicions rise even before merlino speaks, suspicions that stem from antsy fingers, restless eyes. the empty chair before his desk isn't gestured to just yet.

"were you asked to come up with a solution?"

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

There's an impatience to Gavin, a flash of challenge in his eyes. For a moment, he forgets who THEO BECKETT is.

"No, but—" He catches himself, and his stomach squirms. "No, sir."

Don't speak unless spoken to. He had broken their rule; he had not sat, had not paced, but neither had he waited for permission to speak.

[attr="class","beck"]"this isn't the labs, merlino."

but desperation weighs heavy. it's what forces his hand. sighing, he beckons, gesturing to the chair.

"you have five minutes."

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

Gavin winces at the scolding, but it's a different sort of fear. He experienced leniency in the labs that could be considered dangerous to all the work Theo had done; should that bleed too heavily into his work for the admin, he fears the leash pulled tight.

He ducks his head, expects to be dismissed.

There's a fluttering of nerves when Theo gestures to the chair, but it's tempered by words that grant a flooding of relief. He sits, fidgeting with his hands.

"You taught me to command my Pokémon without words." Hard lessons, during which he'd been hurt more than once by Theo's own. "But if we're on a sensitive mission, it's harder to communicate with each other without giving things away."

Give the enemy an inch, they'd take a mile — that was something they couldn't have.

"I learned sign language in school." It had been an optional course that he'd taken out of interest, rather than necessity. Over the past couple of weeks, he'd been quietly researching the differences between Unovan and Galarian signs. "I could teach you.

Theo often got Gavin's attention the way he did his Pokémon — and it's degrading, but it serves it's purpose.

"And you can tell me what you need, no words."

His pitch is rushed, nervous against a ticking clock.

[attr="class","beck"]theo leans forward, bested by curiosity, drawn in by each word that merlino says. the idea is fruitful but execution may be a problem. he's considering it.

"sign me some sentences."

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

Theo leans forward, and instinct sees Gavin's spine press against the back of the chair.

He exhales softly at the command, nods.

It takes a moment for his thoughts to unwind from the tense coil they've formed into, but he lifts his hands and signs at first too quick for an untrained eye to follow, then catches himself and slows the movement down.

"We could start simple. Follow, stay, scout..." His expression shifts. "Attack, kill..."

Each command is displayed twice, careful and deliberate.

[attr="class","beck"]the signs are ran through twice, the first too quick for most to follow, but the second slower and more concise. theo stays silent even after the signs are done, perhaps considering. finally, he responds:

"i like it."

he lifts his own hands and shapes them into the signs that were shown to him. the first three aren't as smooth and still need work, but the last two are a near-perfect match to what was shown.

"like this?"

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

Where once Gavin had resented the feelings of warmth and relief under Theo's praise, now he clings to them as a drowning man to a raft. He doesn't smile, or preen, but he resolves to do his mentor proud.

As Theo replicates the signs with slow gestures, Gavin nods along and follows with his own. That the last two are near perfect is not lost on him, but neither is he surprised.

"Like that," he affirms. As he speaks, he signs along with the words. "I can teach you all of it, with time — if you wanted. Sir."

This time, he remembers to restrain his enthusiasm.

[attr="class","beck"]it's simple. easy to learn. easy to remember. this, theo surmises, will work for them. he nods in approval, weight suddenly eased off his shoulders — not all of it, but enough.

"why did this only come up now? we're a week out, merlino."

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

As relieved as he is by the praise, the tension that bleeds from Theo's shoulders provides a different kind of satisfaction. He has seen, by now, what will happen to Beckett if they fail.

Quick as he'd given praise, Theo taints it with criticism.

"I know, sir." He ducks his head, humbled. "It's been a while since I took the course. I've been practicing, to make sure I have it right."

[attr="class","beck"]"do you realize how important pallet is? what will happen if we fail?"

fear drives the words out of his mouth, practically makes them crawl. he takes a breath, steels his resolve, then looks his grunt in the eye.

"we can't fail."

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