Gavin has taken to doing much of his work from home.

After a disagreement with Emma and Beckett in the same month, his mood has soured against interpersonal interactions. Anger simmers low beneath the surface and, rather than risking an incident, he retreats to the solitude of his Sootopolis abode.

It's raining when Beckett knocks on the door, though this time it has everything to do with weather patterns and nothing to do with the volatile legendary slumbering in the ocean deep. The rhythm of raindrops against his window is soothing white noise as he goes through the notifications on his phone to catch up on work.

His doorbell camera pings in the corner as the knock sounds. Notably, there is but a single loud bark before it's silenced by another's growl.

His stomach twists when he sees who's at the door. The smile leaves him more confused than anything.

He can't ignore this.

So he gets up from the couch and goes to the door, carefully disengaging the twin deadbolts before opening it. Three dogs twist around one another, attempting to get a look at their guest; the Rockruff has grown into a ginger-furred Lycanroc.

"Come in."

[attr="class","beck"]the deadbolts click, disengaging, and the door swings open. the bare smile thins and he decides against a greeting, stepping past him instead. he doesn't even regard the lycanroc.

he heads over to the kitchen, opens whatever cabinet, and pulls out a bottle of elixir that'll drown whatever this feeling is. he pours it into a glass, then raises it to his lips.

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

Whatever Gavin's expecting, it's not this.

He follows Beckett into the kitchen and leans against the island with a disapproving press of his lips as the admin raids his liquor cabinet.

"I do hope you're here for more than my booze."

He folds his arms, lifts his brow. Alcremie, seeming to sense the tilt in Gavin's mood, thinks better than to approach.

[attr="class","beck"]liquor washes down his throat, glass suddenly empty as he sets it back down. it clinks against the island, perhaps from a little too much force. he exhales, jumbled thoughts settling.

"i came to give you this."

he fishes a pokeball out of his blazer, placing it on the island between them.

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

Though he aims for impassive as he watches Beckett drain his glass in one, the expression that settles is more akin to pinched concern.

He follows the trajectory of Beckett's hand as a pokeball is placed on the island, then flicks his gaze back up to meet pale blue.

"Oh? And what is 'this'?"

Curiosity is soured by the memory of their recent dispute.

[attr="class","beck"]what lies beyond merlino's gaze is ignored. he's too tired to look for anything other than what's presented to him, and right now he only sees annoyance.

he turns away, opting for a refill.

"just open it."

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

Gavin blinks at Beckett's back when he turns away, discomfort settling strong.

Still, he curls his hand around the pokeball and considers it for a moment before releasing its occupant. A Riolu blinks in the bright light of the kitchen as if she'd just been woken from a nap before her red eyes fix on Gavin.

He's not sure what he's feeling. Conflicted, he decides.

He sets the capsule down and reaches to scratch the pup between the ears.

"Why?"

[attr="class","beck"]eve as the pokeball cracks open, his gaze remains elsewhere. he decides on the blue waves through the clear windows. it rolls, crashes, pulls, and he loses himself in it.

"you lost your first, didn't you?"

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

There's a sharp stab of pain in his chest at the thought of his Lucario. He thinks of Mt. Pyre, of the name he'd given his oldest companion in honour of his sacrifice. Faolan.

Riolu seems to sense Gavin's emotional shift, whining softly as she pushes her head against his hand. He recognizes an attempt at comfort.

He swallows hard before he opens his mouth to answer.

"How did you know?"

[attr="class","beck"]like usual, he deflects, resorting to a question both of them have heard many times prior.

"does it matter?"

it doesn't. not to him, at least.

he fishes for a cigarette, lighting it.

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

Naturally, Beckett chooses the worst possible response. Gavin's jaw clenches, hard.

"If I ask a question, I'm interested in the answer."

Had Theo assumed his annoyance before, now it was definitive. Riolu nips at Gavin's finger as if to distract him from the sudden surge of anger that flares in his chest. It does little to stem the tide.

"Why is that so difficult?"

[attr="class","beck"]his finger scratches but no flames spark. he tries again, and again, each attempt more forceful than the last, before he resigns to his frustrations. he slaps the lighter down against the counter, sighing.

"i don't know."

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

Seeing as her teeth hadn't helped, Riolu opts to scamper up Gavin's arm and nuzzle into his neck, instead. He might've laughed if not for the tension that crackles through the air between himself and Beckett.

Instead, he carefully lifts her up and sets her back on the island.

"Here."

He fishes his own lighter out of his pocket and slides it over.

"I'll go first, then. It matters because that's not the kind of shit most people notice. It's — nice. But also a little surprising, considering the last time you were here."

Tools. Nothing more.