The heavy door to Gavin's office clicks shut with a certain finality, and the pink shimmer of a fairy lock engages. Yet in this room that is his sanctuary, he doesn't feel safe.

There's an absence to his gaze that Beckett, of all people, will recognize. It's a long moment before he breaks the silence. He struggles to do anything but breathe.

"I think that was the wrong call."

Something tells him Beckett won't agree.

[attr="class","beck"]"what was?"

he wills his words to come out flat but disapproval laces across his expression. they both know his thoughts on the matter — he just refuses to be the first to voice it.

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

He can read Theo's tone like a book, because he has been taught to.

Years apart have seen his conditioning slacken; what would have once sent Gavin into a spiral of fear now registers only as a brief twinge in his gut before he is reminded of his place. Of Theo's place, beneath him.

"Don't play stupid, Beckett."

More than anything, he sounds tired.

[attr="class","beck"]"there were a few wrong calls."

if you have a problem, beckett, i expect you to speak plainly — even this? even if it's something that could drive them apart? it's not in his place to say and yet he finds himself wanting to say it.

the words come out easier than expected.

"you're too soft, merlino."

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

Though the words sting, he is grateful for them. There exists between them a measure of trust that extends beyond superior and subordinate, a sworn exchange of loyalty.

I trust you.

It had taken a long time for Gavin to trust anyone.

"She's young, and this approach seems to be doing more harm than good."

Unbidden, Gavin recalls a bitter memory of Razz Kingsman. How soft Theo had been, with him, in comparison to the cruelty of his fist. But, then, perhaps Beckett was right. Raziel had defected, vanished, betrayed.

But for all his discomfort, there is no resentment for Theo.

"Talk me through it, then. What would you have done different?"

[attr="class","beck"]"you're coddling her."

like how he had coddled raziel. he suppresses the thought, leaves it for another time.

"she doesn't fear you. she ran her mouth off and what did you do? you let her go. she'll keep doing it because she knows you won't do anything about it. there needs to be consequences for her actions, merlino."

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

Like rewinding an old film, Gavin plays back his experiences with THEO BECKETT as he thinks of Plank. It makes his stomach sick, and he wonders if Beckett had felt the same. Had he struggled to justify it, too?

"There have been — there just was."

But there's a hesitation in his tone that suggests he's not wholly convinced.

"She's not scared, like I was. She's angry, and I don't want her to go through what I did. I tried to kill you, Beckett, imagine what she'd do if we set that loose?"

[attr="class","beck"]"does she want to survive?"

he asks an unneeded rhetorical with more venom than intended. he doesn't dwell on it.

"she's scared just like any other kid. she just puts a mask on and pretends she isn't."

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

There's something in the venom of Beckett's tone that speaks to a primal, buried part of Gavin's psyche. It makes his skin crawl, gooseflesh rising on his arms. He does not flinch, as he once would have, but his muscles tense involuntarily.

"You were softer on the kids. How'd you get through to them? I know you didn't do the same as you did with me."

To Gavin's credit, he manages to sound firm rather than accusing.

[attr="class","beck"]merlino tenses — he sees this, understands it, but refuses to come to his aid. if anything, he pushes further, and this time there's sadness mixed in.

"i was soft on raziel and look what happened."

he pauses, asks:

"does she mean something to you?"

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

Raziel.

His feelings on the child he'd once known are mixed with the knowledge that said child had turned his back on their organization. You know what we do with rats. He knows, and he closes himself off to the pain of memories turned bittersweet.

Theo's question sees something flash in Gavin's gaze.

"Did I mean something to you?"

[attr="class","beck"]"what?"

theo takes an instinctive step back, caught off guard by both question and gaze. his eyes glance over to the porthole to try and justify the discomfort he feels, but he sees nothing, and feels too much.

"what does it matter?"

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

There will be no solace found in the emptiness behind the porthole; Lugia is absent, and the tension in the room entirely their own.

"Shouldn't ask a question you can't answer."

There's a sharp edge to his words, almost defensive. He doesn't look away.