He's in a foul mood.

So when someone bumps into his shoulder, Gavin reacts instinctively and violently. Like he's a grunt back in his training days, he whirls and gives the offender a hard shove to knock them sprawling.

"Watch where you're going," he snarls.

Lips pull back in a sneer as he prepares for confrontation, practically begging for a fight, and it's only then that he realises who he'd just rudely introduced to the concrete.

"Shit — Jayden!"

Jayden staggers back to his feet and Gavin lifts his hands in an apologetic, consoling gesture.

"Didn't realise it was you; are you OK?"

His own concerns are shelved immediately upon seeing the look on Jayden's face.

Raw, vulnerable, as if he's on the verge of collapse.

"Don't worry about it," he amends, realising Jayden's having trouble finding the words. Gavin's not an idiot. This isn't the reaction of someone who was upset at being pushed down. This was something else. "We're getting out of here. Come on."

His tone brooks no argument.

A Claydol is released from its capsule and in a flash, the duo is teleported from the busy beaches to a quieter area of Slateport's outskirts. This close to the night market, and during the day, there's barely anyone about.

Gavin approaches a building and unlocks the back door with a key, ushering his friend inside and up the stairs to one of Rocket's safehouses. It's the same one he'd once taken peggie vela to, where she'd nearly thrown up on his shoes.

"What's wrong?"

He's not good with crying.

Gavin hasn't shed tears since childhood. It's been beaten out of him, beaten into him that tears are a sign of weakness and something to be viewed with disgust. But he's not disgusted with his friend. He's worried.

"Chu-e?"

Surprise registers clear in his tone.

"Did he do something to you?"

Ordinarily, it'd be hard to believe Chu-e Choi could do anything to Jayden that would put him in such a state. But Gavin still remembers the other underboss gripping his throat, brandishing a blade. Give it back. Chu-e wasn't always Chu-e anymore.

Unfortunately for jayden cross, Gavin is equally ignorant of how to handle panic.

He's experienced panic attacks, of course. They'd become all but a part of the routine during the early days in Kanto when he'd struggled with the things they'd made him do, the person they'd turned him into. He'd never figured out how to cope.

He recognizes the symptoms but doesn't know how to help.

"Breathe slower," he suggests, but it's framed more like an order. "You're not going to be able to speak if you don't calm down."

Tears are a sign of weakness—

Gavin continues to force aside the intrusive thought as jayden cross struggles to calm himself.

"Okay," he says, slowly, brow furrowed with confusion because clearly there's more to it than that, otherwise Jayden wouldn't be in such a state. "Do you know who it was?"

A flash of something fierce, protective.

"Did they hurt him?" Then, worried. "Did he hurt them?"

His throat tightens around the thought of Chu-e Choi's fingers at his throat, squeezing, draining.

"I'm blond, Jayden, that doesn't tell me much."

Well, he was a natural blond, anyway. He's dyed his hair a rich chestnut brown for the tournament, sweeps it back from his eyes as he wills himself not to lose his patience with jayden cross.

It's not a physical hurt the other's suffering — sudden, sharp, Gavin finds clarity.

Oh, fuck. Tell me he doesn't—

"Jayden, do you like him?"

Empathy ties knots in his stomach as he becomes more certain.

"I mean — do you fancy him?"

He almost corrects the Galarian colloquialism before recalling that jayden cross himself is from Ballonlea. Perhaps it would make it easier to understand.

Gavin thinks of Leon Vercetti, frowns.

"Did you catch the colour of his eyes? The one Chu-e was with."