Gavin laughs.

It's the breathy, wheezing, semi-hysterical laugh of someone shaking off their discomfort. But he's not making fun of Theo — rather, the look in his amber eyes is one of understanding.

"Fucking — me neither."

His laughter trails off, and when he exhales it's like a weight's been lifted.

"But it's like Blackwell, isn't it? It's just good to know we can."

[attr="class","beck"]his lips arc into a bare smile when he hears merlino laugh. it's more than enough to dissolve lingering tension, and he's glad for it. he nods, agreeing.

something drags the next few words out of him.

"i'm glad you survived."

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

Humour ferments into something bittersweet, an old memory lingering.

Hoenn had been terrifying — a punishment not for transgressions, but for the petty revenge of one Silas Blackwell. New horizons meant to be weathered as a team were instead confronted by Gavin alone, and the fate of his former mentor went unknown for many years.

"Got you to thank for it," he says. His lip quirks into the ghost of a teasing smirk. "Mostly. I'll give myself some credit; can still throw a hell of a left hook."

But, then, it had been Theo to teach him that, too.

[attr="class","beck"]"still? you never could."

his bare smile becomes fuller. realizing it, he turns away, eyes fleeting to whatever it can find off to the side. the chuckle that almost escaped is suppressed.

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

Theo suppresses his laughter, but Gavin lets out a sharp bark of it.

"Is that a challenge?"

His left hand curls into a fist as if he has every intention of getting up and throwing it, but the humour in his eyes betrays him. It simmers at Beckett's sudden discomfort.

There is nothing to the side but bare metal, cold walls.

"Hoenn is not Kanto," Gavin repeats, something softer in his tone. "You're allowed happiness here. I won't use it against you."

There should be bitterness—

Not like it was used against me.

—but there is only understanding.

[attr="class","beck"]the softness feels strange, uncomfortable, and it makes him shift in his seat. he clears his throat, eyes remain lost elsewhere.

"it's difficult."

because theo has never been allowed happiness.

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

"I know."

This time, discomfort is a pressure that Gavin can share. Theo had been broken down long before Gavin's turn had come, and to glimpse beyond the layers to the man beneath them was a miracle in and of itself.

Was there hope for his happiness at all?

"It was difficult for me, too."

[attr="class","beck"]was.

"how did you find it?"

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

"Stopped shutting people out all the time."

It's a simple truth, accompanied by a shrug of his shoulder. How else to put into words the years spent unravelling the layers he'd wrapped around himself?

"And look how far I've come, besides."

He smirks as miasma swirls in an outstretched palm.

[attr="class","beck"]"you have."

will theo? the thought lingers even after the miasma eventually dissipates, leaving them to their uncomfortable silence.

his fingers move against the corners of the folder, distracting him enough.

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

"Does it bother you?"

Gavin closes his hand into a fist, miasma scattering as if in some invisible breeze. It wisps before it fades, curls like cigarette smoke through the air.

"Avatarship, I mean. It bothers others."

He leans back in his chair, watches shadow disippate.

[attr="class","beck"]"are the others like us?"

us — those who were bent and broken and molded back into what they are now. survivors of a time once lost, buried beneath the rubbles of verdanturf. he shakes his head.

"no, it doesn't."

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

"Some," Gavin concedes. He thinks of Emma, of Oscar, of Marcel. Would his old friend view Lugia with the same discomfort, now that Gavin had been marked as its avatar? "Others are — soft, like you said."

He envied them the freedom Rocket had taken from him.

He scrutinizes Beckett following his answer and decides to believe him. It's a relief he hadn't realised he'd sought.

"Good," he decides; then, curious, "Would you want it?"