Skipper immediately draws Gavin's attention when he worms his way onto his lap. He's always had a soft spot for Riolu, even the ones that didn't belong to him.

Gavin's gaze flicks to the television, a frown touching his lips.

"Mm, I think I've heard of the case." He definitely wasn't Rocket but an infamous captured criminal nonetheless, an example of what they wanted to avoid becoming. "Gets whacked in the end, right?"

Witness protection didn't always live up to its purpose if you made the wrong enemies.

"I think so?" temp was a little fuzzy on the details of it, to be honest. He'd only seen this movie once before and it had been a while.

"All I really remember is the grody scene where they cut the guy's head off." One of the most iconic scenes from the movie and also one of the most fucked up. The kind of stuff that, when it came out, really shook the cinema world... nowadays, such stuff was less impressive, but it really paved the way for pushing boundaries.

"Did you know there's a weird porno based on this where they 'whack' each other off?"

Temp was making that up, but it was plausible with the weird stuff he had seen.

Cillian Quinn

"Gross," says Gavin of the decapitation scene, but he doesn't seem perturbed.

That was the thing about seeing that shit for real: it couldn't phase him anymore. Movie scenes that might've once made his stomach turn evoked nothing at all, now, save perhaps gruesome memories of the real thing.

He's seen a decapitation before. It's nothing like in the movies, nowhere near as easy as they make it look.

And the sound—

Thank goodness for Tempest Quinn; the other's sudden mention of a porno drags him right out of any macabre reminiscing he might've done. Gavin's laughter is sharp and startled, and he'd offer apologetic pets to the dogs if it jostled them.

"No, I did not know that. I want to watch that."

It sounded fucking hilarious. Shame Temp was pulling his leg.

The Riolu doesn't seem too bothered, sleepy eyes cracking open from the bed he's made out of Cillian Quinn. The Smeargle does flick his ears and flinch a bit, but seems more curious as to what got the human so excited than anything and is quick to relax again.

Well, now Temp has to put his money where his mouth is. Knowing the internet, he is confident some type of porn parody exists. The movie idly plays in the background and Temp picks up his phone. He's seen this movie anyway and it's one of the more boring scenes. He's doing quick searches and just lets a comfortable silence settle over the two of them.

Maybe this would finally get Gavin to go the fuck to sleep, a nice couch snooze.

Only Temp clicks on a video and he forgot his phone's volume was turned almost all the way up.

"YEAH BOSS, SUCK 'EM OFF BOSS." Is yelled in a cheesy Unovan accent, tinny from the small speakers. It startles Temp enough to jump, making his drop the phone as almost comical moaning and gun shooting noises start to happen.

"Shit." Is hissed out as he tries to find where his phone went, the noises still happening.

"Found the movie, dude."

He's still invested in the promise of a proper massage in spite of his sleep-deprived state, but the silence that settles between them and the warmth of the blanket and the dogs against his curled form is enough to make Gavin's eyes drift closed.

He barely has the energy to fight it, the lack of sleep finally catching up.

But unfortunately for Gavin, paranoia makes him an incredibly light sleeper.

A very loud, very sudden blast of gunfire, moaning, and comedic dialogue sees him bolt upright, likely dislodging the poor dogs from their comfortable positions as Gavin scrambles to consciousness.

Then he laughs, long and low, as he catches on.

"Arceus. Yeah you fuckin' did, scared the shit out of me — their fucking accents—"

He wheezes as his pounding heart slows.

Tempest Quinn

Temp had forgotten about the massage because I did, which is a shame for Cillian Quinn, but he'll remember eventually.

Captain, the poor Smeargle, is pushed off from his comfortable perch and onto the floor, whining. Skipper yelps but just flops back, a Riolu-shaped puddle intent on staying as close to Gavin as he can. He was an easy target for a nap and Skipper was nothing else if not determined.

Temp is wide eyed, frazzled in his own way, but when Gavin starts to laugh he does too.

It's only then he finds his phone, manages to pause the raunchy porno.

"What's wrong, you-" He clears his throat, then Temp speaks in the worst Unovan accent to exist this side of Hoenn. "You don't wanna suck 'em off, boss?"

"I'll suck you off," is exactly the sort of silly, nonsensical comeback that a sleep-deprived man woken up from the briefest of naps might come up with. It sounds like something Pilo1 might say in the voice chat, doesn't it?

Gavin might as well be drunk on his lack of sleep, still wheezing with laughter that's quick to transition into a brief, hacking cough.

"Fuck," he grumbles, swiping at the moisture that springs to his eyes from the force of it. He chuckles again, cheeks flushed. "You're gonna kill me."

And it's going to be a few minutes before he can settle down again, after that.

He notes the poor Smeargle that's been dispensed to the floor.

"Sorry, Captain. You mind if I grab some water?"

That last part directed at Tempest Quinn, because his throat hurts now.

"Mmhmm, would love to see you try, Gavvie." Snarky and flirty, as Temp hefts himself to his feet. He has more he can say but fuck he still wasn't exhausted from earlier. Also, Cillian Quinn still needed to relax and sleep.

Plus his dogs were still out.

Captain whines but just leaps back up on Gavin's legs, snuggling down. Pinned for puppy related crimes.

"Looks like you own't be getting shit." He snickers but pushes himself to his feet, ambling towards his small kitchen.

"I got some strawberry lemonade if you'd rather have that." Already, he was plunking cubes of ice into a clear blue glass.

"Mm, I bet you would."

But he leaves it at that because he's fucking exhausted and though he wouldn't be opposed when he wasn't dozing off on the spot, right now he could barely support the weight of his own head.

Let the saucy threat linger long enough to tempt.

Gavin shifts with the intent to dislodge Captain and go grab some water if he's given permission, but Tempest Quinn is already on his feet and Captain's already snugged against his ribs and Gavin knows when he's lost a battle.

"That works," he affirms. "Just gotta wet my throat."

"See, you keep making it too easy. 'Wet your throat'? You're just asking for a jizz joke, bro." Clink, clink, and then the pour of the lemonade. It's sweeter than Temp normally likes so he's glad he can pawn it off on Cillian Quinn. Shame, since he had been fancy and had little slices of fresh that floated at the top.

Temp gives Gavin his drink but then tries to manhandle him, just a little, so he can try and wallow down behind Gavin, be what he's laying against. This will have a few benefits: one, Temp can finally give Gavin a little bit of a rub down. Two (which was more for Gavin's benefit than Temp's), Gavin would be able to use Temp's tits as a pillow.

"When I'm done with you, you're going to be so relaxed you sleep for like two weeks."

"And you're just horny."

Gavin fires back as if this isn't a prime example of the pot meeting the kettle. They wouldn't be here if not for his own desperate drive.

Accepting the lemonade, he allows Tempest Quinn to manhandle him into the position he wants, firmly pushing whatever thoughts brought to mind to the back of it. His friend's going to take care of him tonight and then it'll all go back to normal.

He just needs to not think about anything else.

"Challenge accepted," he yawns, the sound swallowed by the glass of lemonade lifted to his lips.