‘Dr. Flint.’ With her back turned, her grin was sick. It never got old. Honestly, she deserved it. What was a piece of paper in a gold frame, anyways? You didn’t need it here.

When she turned, however, she found herself struck by an odd feeling evoked by his face which immediately dissolved her amusement. Hairs on the back of her neck pricked. She felt a jolt of defensive darkness in her heart. It all caught her very off guard.

Machine down… de-evolve… appreciate your help… His words almost didn’t register, as she grappled with whatever had hit her. No one would know there was even a force. She stood like stone, steel-faced, and neutral—unchanged to the outside world, despite the chaos suddenly swirling beneath the surface.

Wrynn.

Here he was.

His amber eyes looked back at her like a mirror. What the fuck. What the actual fuck.

She cleared her throat. “Hello, Wrynn. I’ve heard a little about you. Welcome.” Of course you’d find your way here. She stared oddly for a moment, unaware of how long the silence passed as she took it all in with a long breath. “Yes, well. The machine. Right. Just a moment.”

She went to wave down a few of her team, assigning tasks and handing off a clipboard, pointing a few times, and then beginning towards a hall, calling over a shoulder: “This way Wrynn. It's down here.”

The clicks of her low heels were always evenly spaced, as though she operated in set time. They sounded ahead of him, her back providing a shield to her unknown past as he presumably followed behind, and into a room with a large machine.

She led the way in, the edge of her white coat billowing in the draft of a low fan which kept the room cool. Still, a strange warmth that had little to do with temperature radiated, felt uncomfortably under the skin. An almost inaudible hum was a light pressure on the head.

Her eyes squinted through the vaguely nauseating fog of its existence and immediate effects. Machines like this one stayed running.

“That’s correct.”

She would still seem somewhat distracted as she looked at him.

“Do you have the pokemon with you?”

She noted his two-handed rolling of the pokeball, only because she was hyper-aware of his every movement. Lulu fidgeted. She rarely caught herself, but was aware of it. Maybe pseudo and self-critical, but she felt like she spotted similarities in every passing second.

“No, not at all.” Yes. Fuck you. Why do you exist? But also, there was utter curiosity and wonderment. He was younger. She’d been the youngest, up until recently. He had an interest in this, maybe, or at least a heavy tie to science. Wrynn Corporation.

Sometimes, she felt the world was working against her. At others, she found silver linings like ribbons in the dust. At least he was interesting. Soft, maybe, as Cillian Quinn had told her. But interesting.

Not that it could be anything less at first real sight.

“I always have somewhere else to be, but I’m also always curious to see a new mind at work.” She nodded towards it. “Go ahead. Take a shot; see if you figure it out.”

There was a hitching of the smallest smirk which didn’t quite pair harmoniously with the distant stare in her eyes. “Unless you want me to do it, of course. I’m fine to, if you’re not up for it.”

Soft. Cillian Quinn had told her, and she saw it in Rowan’s tender assurance to the pokemon as it was placed within the machine. Not much older than herself, to her, in that moment, he was still a child. He would be broken.

There was almost an urge to do it herself. If anyone had to…

Lulu was protective in that way.

Now was not the time, however.

“Good job.” she affirmed lightly, eyes never leaving him. She’d seen plenty enough of the machine. Fixed it enough times to know he couldn’t break it beyond her repair—and she had all the time in the world to do so.

When he turned back to her, the directness of his question caught her off guard. To anyone else, she might’ve hardened and dismissed them.

“No, not at all.”

She paused for a moment, breathing.

“My name isn’t Lulu Flint, Rowan. It’s Saoirse Quinn.” Her amber eyes, matching his own, held him with strength, regret, and promise. She waited to see if he might put it together.

Family was something she hadn’t known, mostly—ever. Perhaps that had been for her tendency to keep to herself. Maybe it had been that they hadn’t tried. She’d chased who she could. She mimicked. Maybe it would make her more acceptable.

Now here they all were.

Except, Cillian Quinn had willingly collected this one, despite being soft. That part sort of stung.

She supposed she was willing to look past it, however much it bit her in the soul.

There was a wide range of emotions. Ultimately, this kid—yes, kid—was her responsibility, now. “Does it?” Small talk seemed best. “You don’t seem all that awkward.” She forced an odd smile, tilting her jaw attentively.

“Yeah.” she agreed vaguely. ’Me too.’

As he walked over to the machine again, her eyes scrutinized everything—clothing; posture; mannerisms. What made them similar? Little, really, at a glance.

“It is a bit ridiculous, you’re right.” Maybe it might’ve sounded rude when it wasn’t meant to. She gave a light sigh and crossed her arms. “We don’t have to talk about it, now—sorry to spring it on you.”

Eyes flashed to the Slowbro still in its process, and her shoulders began to turn towards the door, perhaps retreating a little from the idea. This had been impulsive. “We should have tea or a drink some time, maybe—I don’t know.”

Her eyes eventually fell back to the machine and the re-evolving pokemon. Success, as expected. The whirring of its mechanisms slowed until the breath of powerful fans overcame its beating hum once more.

The mention of their father was enough to freeze her for a moment. She’d hated him for his treatment of Cillian Quinn . It was, perhaps, part of why she felt such a protective nature over him. To add to confliction, although their father’s attention to her brother had typically been negative, the lack of any paid to her in general had instilled a feeling of an even greater depravation of love.

“He was.” She confirmed simply, staring off for a moment before sighing uncomfortably. The urge to shrink into shadow and disappear was almost too great to ignore.

Deciding to be transparent and not so rude for once, she turned to leave like a normal person. “I can’t talk about this now, Rowan. Perhaps bringing it up like this was a poor decision. I’ll be reaching out soon.”

She stopped, then said lower over her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll risk all of our lives.”

With that, she left. Back to work, if she could manage it.