Gavin actually laughs, sharp and surprised.

"Why would it be a trap?"

Maybe is close enough to yes that he chooses to move toward the kitchen, crouching down to inspect his liquor cabinet.

"What do you normally drink?"

Gavin sets a bottle of Galarian scotch on the island.

He might've made a joke out of it if not for her follow-up. His brow furrows.

"There's a difference between having a drink and going overboard. I'm not trying to stage an intervention."

He doesn't have tequila, squints at the other options before she decides that the scotch he'd chosen for himself was good enough for her, as well. He straightens up, nudges the cabinet shut with his foot.

Two glasses are poured, and he slides one over.

There's no easy way to bring it up.

"Found out dear old dad's been fucking around." There's venom as he mentions their father. "We've got a little bastard brother."

He sips the scotch.

"Saoirse."

Gavin sounds affronted as he watches her chug directly from the bottle.

"Arceus, that's not even the worst of it, am I going to have to lock the bloody cabinet?"

For all his attempt to jest, genuine concern bleeds through.

Even as her brother, Gavin can't read her. There's a mild tension, glass half to his lips, until she laughs and the tension bleeds from his shoulders.

He doesn't lock the cabinet, but he does lean against the counter in front of it.

"I'm being serious. I wouldn't joke about this."

There's a gravity to his tone that wills her to understand, to believe.

He grimaces when she turns back.

"He's Rocket, and Walsh knows."

"Wh — no, I was surprised as you are!" His lips press into a grim line. "Wouldn't fuckin' put it past dad, but that's beside the point."

He takes another swig of the liquor, mostly as an excuse to think.

"I found out when I was looking at my bloodwork. You know, all the tests they've been running." It's a remarkably casual way to refer to the human experimentation they'd been ordered to undergo. "System flagged a relation to someone else."

From a drawer in the kitchen, Gavin retrieves a file, apparently having been prepared for this conversation in this very room. Sunlight happily lights a photograph of their brother, amber eyes and all.

"Rowan Wrynn. He didn't know either, till I told him."

"This isn't the kind of shit you just text someone. I wanted to make sure you were OK."

Perhaps he'd predicted a strong reaction, even if it wasn't necessarily slamming back his scotch. He eyes her carefully, Quinn amber searching.

"Couple days; waited till you weren't busy and I'd made sure he wasn't going to freak the fuck out and get us killed or something. I think I got through to him. He's a hell of a lot softer than us."

He grimaces, clearly unhappy about it.

"More similarity between brothers than the two of us, genetically, so more flags came up." She doesn't ask, but he explains. "Still not something I think they'd notice if they weren't looking, but I'm going to look into having our files classified so some random grunt doesn't stumble across shit they don't need to know."