He stops walking, then, shakes his head.

"I can't. This needs to get done."

No matter the cost.

Rocket owned him. His time was their time, and to lounge at home when there was work to be done was unacceptable. If he showed himself to be weak, if he didn't get results, if Walsh saw him as liability rather than asset—

"It'll pass. It always does."

Lycanroc lets out an annoyed growl when it realises they aren't keeping up, loping back around to push its muzzle against Gavin's hand.

[attr="class","beck"]he stops walking, too.

"you're useless at the moment."

he takes a step towards merlino, approaching.

"go home. i'll handle it."

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

Useless.

It's the wrong word to use against a man striving to be anything but.

"I can handle it. You don't need to worry."

Yet there's something in the way he says it that suggests he's not talking about Theo, but Rocket. He remembers what they'd done to weak links in their old chain. Often, they'd give them to the labs.

M.A.G.M.A was hunting for test subjects they could be a little less careful with.

"Let's go."

This time, it's Gavin's tone that rings command; he turns and starts walking back in the direction of the gym without waiting for a reply.

[attr="class","beck"]he remains rooted in place for moments and simply watches the underboss trail away. it isn't until lycanroc brushes past him that he decides to follow, exhaling as he does.

he's silent as he catches up to merlino.

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

He is persistent because he knows what failure will mean.

His chest aches, breaths too short to fill his lungs, but he pushes through it. He will drive himself to the brink of collapse because it is what Rocket has taught him.

What Theo has taught.

"Her matches are open to spectators. We could sit in on a few, scope it out."

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

they turn a corner, approaching a flight of stairs that lead up to the viewpoint. it's a long climb.

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

Gavin eyes the staircase as one might size up a bitter rival, green eyes sweeping up their length. He clenches his jaw, resigns himself to the climb. Sootopolis had too many of these damned staircases.

He could send out a Pokemon, but that would only prove him incapable.

His grip on the railing is as tight as he can manage in his drained state, and he does not once complain in his slow, methodical ascent.

Lycanroc lets out a soft whine as it waits at the top.

Gavin sits upon the last step, shuddering.

"I only need a minute," he insists, not looking at Beckett.

[attr="class","beck"]not once does he offer a hand nor sympathy. he simply watches as merlino struggles up the stairs, eyes trailing off to the side to peer at the view on occasion.

when they eventually reach the top, he leans against the railing and waits.

"sure."

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

He is glad Theo does not offer help, for Gavin would not take it. He struggles, suffers, and survives. Because he has to. Because this is what's necessary.

His breathing is labored, much as he tries to hide it.

It's longer than a minute, maybe three, before it levels out enough for him to feel confident in standing. He utilizes the railing to pull himself back to his feet, gestures wordlessly down the road before starting to walk.

He will not be useless.

[attr="class","beck"]after close to three minutes, he resumes walking and falls by merlino's side. thankfully for the underboss it's a short walk from there to the viewpoint. it breaks out into the middle of the city, providing them a lovely view of the city, and more importantly, the concert hall of a gym.

"it's a nice view."

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

Through a glass tunnel that extends past the city limits, the gym opens out onto the sparkling Hoennian sea. To view it from up here only reminds Gavin of how far away it truly was, should they seek to go all the way there.

"Yeah," Gavin agrees.

He leans against the railing of the vista, quietly grateful for its support.

[attr="class","beck"]he leans his arms on the railing as he peers out, gaze fixed on nothing in particular. he allows a few moments to pass before asking:

"do you need another minute?"

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

Yes, is what he wants to say — what he might have said, if not for his suspicions. He's trembling from overexertion, yet his spine stiffens as he pushes off from the rail.

"No. I'm fine."

He can't look Beckett in the eye, for his former mentor knows him too well. He knows when Gavin is lying because he'd been the one to beat it out of him. When the underboss retracts his grip on the rail, there is a stiffness in his left hand that doesn't match the right. Fingers tuck against a scarred palm.

It was almost too easy to fall back on old habits.