He's shaking. In times like these, he craves cigarettes the most.

In the privacy of his office, where there is neither sound nor interruption, Gavin buries his head in his hands and struggles to breathe.

We won't just kill you if you betray us.

How deep did that poison go? Did Walsh subscribe to the methods of Gavin's mentors? Would they hesitate to cull an underboss for the sins of a grunt? It was not only death Gavin feared; Rocket could deliver a fate worse than death, he knew. He'd seen it in the scars of Chu-e Choi, both those he bore and those he had inflicted.

Your family, and once that had only been Lulu Flint, but now—

By the time Rowan Wrynn opens the door, Gavin is placid and unreadable. The door shimmers as it locks, and the back of Gavin's neck prickles.

"How are you finding Rocket, Rowan?"

How much better would he have fared, in the beginning, if he'd utilized humour as Rowan Wrynn has quickly learned to do? The thought is absent, unwanted, and quickly pushed away.

There's a flicker in Gavin's expression when Rowan mentions civilian personas; it's unrecognizable as any one emotion, and gone as quick as it had appeared.

"Who?" he wonders, curious.

But it's the last statement that drives the knife in deep, a sharp reminder of why they're here. Rocket had become Gavin's sanctuary, too. His family. And just like the family he'd left back in Galar, many wouldn't hesitate to turn and eat their own.

"But you know how dangerous it is, here?" His tone turns grave with the prompting. "How important it is to remain loyal?"

If he hadn't been so tense, he might've chuckled. Instead, he only nods.

"Mr. Ki is very good at what he does." Who would suspect the frail, rock-licking, cat collecting man to be the underboss of a criminal empire as far reaching as Rocket? "But even he's dangerous. One of the Beasts, in Kanto days."

Though Rowan Wrynn was new to Rocket, Gavin trusts he'll know exactly what that means. The Beasts were infamous for their crimes against the destroyed region of Kanto; it had doubtless been all over the news.

He draws a deep, steadying breath at Rowan's answer.

"Good," he says, then quieter, repeats it. "Good."

We won't just kill you if you betray us.

"Tell me about your father, Rowan. What was he like?"

The question holds weight, and Gavin half expects Rowan Wrynn will refuse to answer. He would, were their roles reversed.

But he is given an answer, and detail besides, that paints a picture Gavin can recreate upon the canvas of his mind. It's as if he's seen it before, in different colours and shapes but familiar all the same.

His lips purse at the mention of a closet.

He sighs, heavy.

"I have reason to believe he's not your father after all."

He's patient with Rowan Wrynn's confusion. Gavin has had hours, alone, to process the information that Wrynn is expected to parse within minutes.

A folder lands on the desk between them with a resounding smack.

Inside, a man bearing an uncanny resemblance to Gavin Merlino stares from a photograph with eyes of cold, familiar amber. The smile on his lips does not reach them. It is a viper's smile, befitting of a man who'd raised Rocket's underboss.

"Thomas Quinn. You heard of the Quinns?"

Gavin's presence is oppressive as he leans forward in his chair.

As Rowan Wrynn studies the photograph, Gavin studies his eyes — allows himself to see what he hadn't before. There's a different shape to them, the mother's influence no doubt, but their colour is a striking resemblance to his own.

To their father's.

"He was a bloody prick, so you didn't miss out."

It's the hint before the bomb is dropped, before Gavin sets another file on the table: his own. It's him in the pictures, but there's a different name ascribed.

Cillian Quinn. Status? Deceased.

"I'm sure. Got flagged as a match when they took your blood in the med-bay."

He smooths back his bangs with a surprisingly steady hand, sighs.

It's strange, to hear the name spoken aloud by someone other than Lulu Flint.

"It's not a test, no."

Do you have any family? More than he'd realized.

"It means we're brothers, Rowan. Congratulations."

There is no disgust targeted toward the man across from him, but neither does Gavin seem casual. There's a tension in the room all too easy to identify if Rowan Wrynn were to pay it mind, a stiffness to Gavin's movements as he closes the file.

"That name never leaves this room."