Whatever she's saying to him, Gavin can spot the gears turning in the man's brain from a mile away. She leans in, and he doesn't lean away.

That's good, that means she's not scaring him.

"Could use some air, I s'pose."

He shakes his head at something else she says, gestures toward an exit that leads up and into a back alley. It's where the bars patrons go to smoke or vomit without stumbling out onto the main street and getting bothered by the cops.

From a distance, Gavin follows them.

As they walk, the man hands Plank a cigarette.

"Yeah, yeah..."

He's fumbling in his pocket for the lighter when the door opens again and Gavin slips into the alleyway. A FAIRY LOCK shimmers on the door, and SHADOWS snake up from the ground to HOLD him in place.

Gavin tilts his head, prowling like a predator.

"Where's your partner, Hale? Didn't run off and leave you, did he?"

Gavin's knife glints in his hand.

"Good work, Vela."

There's a betrayed look in the man's eyes as he realises he's been tricked, but he can't fight against the hold that imprisons him.

Amber eyes bore into Plank's with scrutiny before she swallows whatever might've otherwise surfaced. He offers approval with a nod.

She mentions a lighter; Gavin scoffs, the sound scraping his throat. A lighter is fished from Gavin's own pocket and tossed to her.

Gavin slides the knife beneath Hale's jaw, presses just hard enough to draw blood. It's what had been done to him, so many times.

"You know who I am?" A stiff nod. "You know why I'm here?"

He blubbers some sort of excuse that Gavin silences with a press of the blade.

"None of that; I already know you did it. Where is he?"

After a brief exchange, Gavin decides that Hale is either telling the truth of his ignorance or won't crack quick enough to be of use before someone else stumbles onto the scene. He pockets the blade and instructs the Klefki to tighten its hold, strangling.

Quieter, this way, less mess.

"Search him, would you?"

Gavin leans against the wall, lighting a smoke as the target finally collapses.

Gavin catches the wallet, flips it open to root through its contents.

Identification pegs him as Michael Hale; not all Rockets used an alias. Only the smart ones, Gavin thinks, which this one certainly hadn't been or he would still be alive. There's a few Pokedollars, a membership card to a club he doesn't recognize, a picture of some kid.

He suppresses the guilt.

Not my fault he chose to be a rat.

At least this wasn't Kanto, where they'd find that little girl and slit her throat, too.