[attr="class","beck"]the pause he gives is intentional. this time, he makes his distaste known. it shows in the way he eyes merlino.

"why?"

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

Theo is more expressive than Gavin knew; it's subtle, in the lines around his eyes and in their icy depths, but Gavin recognizes nuances once lost to a downcast gaze.

The room's mood shifts with Gavin's jaw.

"Hoenn is not Kanto."

There's a long pause. He thinks, again, about wanting a smoke.

"I would outrank you either way. Does that bother you?"

[attr="class","beck"]another long pause follows. the silence weighs down on them, tension threatening.

"is that what this is about?"

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

Gavin blinks in the long silence that follows, doesn't break it.

His lips purse when Theo does.

"You're dodging the question."

[attr="class","beck"]he considers it for a moment, then responds:

"it does."

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

He'd suspected as much, but still affords a moment to process it.

There is a proud, coiled serpent in the pit of his chest that wishes to rise to Theo's challenge. It had rattled its tail in the heat of their excursion, 'know your place', but it's easier to charm in the quiet. Gavin breathes out, slow.

"Why?"

[attr="class","beck"]"i don't know."

he leans back, exhales, peers down to notice the folder, now crinkled and folded in his hand. he releases it.

"are we done?"

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

There's a certain sadness in the quirk of his lip. Who have they become, in the absence of one another?

It had been easier, then, when he had not been allowed to think.

"Would you like to be?"

Exhaustion speaks in the shadows beneath Gavin's unrelenting stare. He will not allow himself to rest, but he has never felt so tired.

[attr="class","beck"]his eyes are drawn once more to the reds that glow outside. its PRESSURE is overwhelming — he feels it clawing into him, reaching in to tear him apart.

he stands, folder in hand, and turns to leave.

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

Gavin intends to let him go.

He doesn't miss the way that Theo's gaze shifts to the window behind. Lugia's presence manifests as physical weight, smothering.

It's not until Beckett finds resistance with the door that Gavin remembers he had locked it. Habit. That he had not immediately signaled for his Klefki to reverse its handiwork betrayed his expectation that Theo would stay.

He clicks, soft. The door shimmers.

"It's unlocked, now."

To state it is unnecessary, but he'd been overwhelmed by the silence.

[attr="class","beck"]he pulls on the handle but it doesn't give. he pauses, exhales, and turns back. a thought pricks at him, unable to be suppressed.

"did you want me to stay?"

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

If he were to close his eyes, he'd picture a different place.

He keeps them open, grounds himself with the familiar metal walls of his office and the figure framed by its closed door. This is his space, his sanctuary.

"This is the best place to talk."

It's not a direct answer. Having just scolded Beckett for the same, he sighs.

"Yes."

[attr="class","beck"]he's trapped in an endless gaze, unable to decide between pained familiarity or secure solitude. eventually, his hand falls from the handle.

"we're not the best at talking."

they never have been. still, he returns, sits where he feels safest. he waits for merlino to break the silence.

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