He used to hate boats.

This one's a far cry from the luxury speed boat that his father had taken him out on in his youth. But where Tempest Quinn's father might've taken him sailing or fishing for a father-son bonding experience, the boating trip with the elder Quinn and his son had been anything but.

Do you know how deep the ocean is, Cillian?

He peers into its depths now and sees Corsola crowding the boat, the dark shadow of Lugia swimming below the Wishiwashi school.

Funny, how much has changed.

A briny breeze tosses his hair back from his eyes as he turns to Temp. Gavin's still weak, still recovering from an ill encounter with Chu-e Choi, but the gaunt quality of his features is offset by the smile that breaks.

"How far do we go?"

"All the way back to Pacifidlog!" It's a long trip, made twice a year. Once to get the Corsola to where they're going and another to bring them home. Seeing the new ones, small and so curious, is always his favorite part of the return trip.

Thankfully, the open ocean means he isn't as needed behind the wheel. The sun beats down but cool drinks are in a worn down cooler. They're chilled with a simple lunch ready to be grilled over the water.

Cillian Quinn might be weak and bruised but Temp still thinks he looks beautiful.

It kind of fucks him up.

"How we doing out there, first mate?" A cheeky grin.

Temp's voice strikes a fondness in his chest.

"Clear skies and smooth sailing, Captain."

The cheeky grin is returned with a sailor's salute. Though tired and worn at their edges, his amber eyes are bright and clear.

Lugia ensures the calm of the seas, skies clear of storms.

A Corsola with branches blue in place of their usual pink rests in Gavin's arms. It had been set apart from the others on account of its unique coloration and he'd taken it aboard rather than see it abandoned in the migration.

"Then I guess I can light up the grill and let it get hot."

The vessel is set to 'auto'. Velma can pull them for a bit without them losing any speed.

While Temp is usually full absorbed in Cillian Quinn when in his presence, there had been something he had been wanting to talk to the other about. It was one of those things he hadn't had the chance to bring up- so, well, why not now?

"Oh hey! I'm having a job change." Technically, he probably needed to formally tell Gavin. This was more fun, though.

"Oh, good, I'm starving."

The shift in subject is surprising but not unwelcome; Gavin cants his head.

"Shit, really? I thought you loved your job."

Tempest Quinn has been working as a personal trainer for as long as Gavin's known him. He's Gavin's trainer, too, had worked to find the right ways to help the underboss to bulk up and stay in the best shape possible after he'd become an avatar.

Their differing builds meant Temp would probably always be stronger than him; a fact that Gavin won't admit he's entirely fine with.

"What's the new job?"

The cooking is busy work. Idly done as they talk. It won't be anything fancy. Sometimes a few cheap bits of meat over the open water could be more delicious than any fancy meal you could have at a restaurant, though.

'I do! Or, well, did. Technically my last day was yesterday." Which was a shame. While Temp would no doubt still continue to go to the gym he worked at, it would be as a patron and not as a trainer. He glances up at Cillian Quinn, wry.

"I could keep it a secret for a bit longer... make you squirm.... you'll get an idea when we get back to Pacifidlog anyway."

That was an idea. It's a shame he doubted Gavin would beg, though. So, this bit of teasing would be all he would get.

"You know those two new Gym Leaders the League decided to hire?" He jerks a thumb at himself.

"You're looking at one of them."

The smell of meat cooking over open flame sets his stomach to growling. He often forgets to eat when he's distracted and today had been one of those days, so caught up in a weird flutter of excitement for their boating trip that he'd not thought about food until they were well out into the water.

It was a good thing Tempest Quinn had thought to bring food.

"That's not how you make me squirm, babe."

The return of the tease is accompanied by a flash of his teeth; impossible, as always, to tell quite how serious Gavin is.

"Mm," he confirms at the question, then, with widened eyes, "Shit, really?"

His cheeky smile broadens to a grin.

"That's awesome! Does the boss know yet?" They were, after all, always looking to expand their network of moles. Then, softer, as if he half expects Declan Walsh himself to surface from their shadows, "Or is this not a Rocket thing?"

A soft snort. Oh, he'd make Cillian Quinn squirm, alright. Just not when he's looking so cute holding onto that Corsola. And he didn't look like death warmed over.

"Yup!" It's said with a pleased flush. The spot had been offered to his dad at first, but Tulio had refused it and insisted it go to Temp instead. He hadn't been sure about taking it at first, but...

"You're the first person to know. Other than my dad and hometown. They, like, kind of have to know by this point." Kind of hard to explain the massive ship that was docked there as it was being fitted by League officials for his challenge.

"Ah... I kind of expected it would be. Like, you guys would find out sooner rather than later." Temp hadn't known there was a choice for it to not be a 'Rocket thing'. It just felt like he had more power over it if he chose to tell Gavin first instead of anyone else.

You're the first person to know.

Gavin's not sure why, but this knowledge spreads through him like warmth.

It occurs to him, then, that he'd never talked too in-depth with his friend about how much Rocket meant to him as an organization. He'd joined willingly, unlike so many others, but was it simply a means to an end or a pursuit of a passion?

He'd never asked — at first because it hadn't mattered, and then because his position added an uncomfortable weight behind the inquiry.

"Yeah, the boss'd find out soon enough," he admits. "I wouldn't be the one to tell him if you wanted a bit more time, but..."

He shakes his head.

"Still though, congratulations! You got a theme yet?"

Wouldn't that be one hell of a conversation? And one they would have eventually. Rocket was a complicated subject to Temp. At first something alluring in it's danger, later something he felt could get some type of petty revenge on the people it seemed like wronged him and his entire community.

But, later. There was other stuff to talk about now.

"Nah, you can tell 'im. The place won't be open for a few more weeks anyway. Turns out it takes longer than you'd think for a lot of that official junk to go through." The 'Gym' part of being a leader wasn't really done yet, to start.

"I think I put 'Conservation' on the paperwork... That was the hard part. The League wants Leaders to, like... I don't know to explain it. Train people in like... basic combat stuff? But I'm better at hand to hand than with pokemon. So I had to plead a case to be more...." 'Esoteric' was the word that Temp wanted but he had never heard it before in his life and didn't know what it meant.

"Well, my challenges mostly won't be battling. It's, uh... like, being able to think fast and look at what you're dealing with. Think quick, problem solve, that stuff."

"League's a bloody mess, so I'm not surprised."

And perhaps they're not quite as incompetent as Gavin assumes but he's been with Rocket long enough for their indoctrinations to sink deep into his bones. They were corrupt, messy, enemy.

Gavin's eyes narrow.

"To combat us, no doubt."

Battle had been mostly for sport in his childhood, cheering crowds that filled the stadiums and posters of favourite Pokemon teams on bedroom walls. Pubs crammed with drunk and enthusiastic fans, fist fights on the playground at school when rivalries got too heated.

It had been a culture, back home. In Hoenn, it seemed more like a solution.

"Oh! So you're looking for something a bit more esoteric." A pause, then, "Abstract."

Gavin, with his university education and his personal library and the fact that he's a fucking nerd, is more than happy to provide the correct word.

"That sounds pretty cool, though! Hoenn's got a lot of non-traditional stuff. Zac Ramsay has that whole Biome contest — you should give that a try, some time, I think you'd like it."

"Zac Ramsay... oh! I met him! Nice dude, real bad at eating contests." Or technically very good. Either way, he had won that trip, and that reminded him that Temp aimed to ask Cillian Quinn if he wanted to go with him to the Charja-Cola themed vacation he had won. Well, later, it wasn't quite the right time yet.

'S weird. When I was a kid, Gym Leadin' didn't seem like tryin' to teach people to how to fight." At least, not for war. Just with other people for fun and for sport.

Temp wasn't so dense to understand why that had changed, but it just seemed like such a quick change. Vaguely, he could remember when the Mauville Gym was just an eccentric man who loved power plants and was good at battling. Where had that energy gone?

"I just hope I'm up to snuff."

Gavin nods, expression somber.

"It's not like this back in Galar, either." A tug of instinctual discomfort at mentioning the region of his birth is brushed aside. It's Temp. He trusts Temp. "Battle's more for sport and clout than for — all this."

And, once upon a time, the idea of Pokemon being used as weapons had seemed outlandish even to Gavin. Rocket had changed a lot of things. He wasn't so indoctrinated as to be blind to those changes but looked upon them as a necessary evil. Perhaps it hadn't been necessary at first, but Katherine's threats against Serena in Sootopolis proved that there was no going back to how things used to be. The League's adapted to the bloodthirst of Silas' era and all of Rocket would be painted with the same brush.

His brow furrows at Tempest Quinn's next words.

"Course you will be," he says, firm. "Have you seen some of the people the League employs?"

Gavin's tone suggests a lack of respect for most of the League-affiliated gym leaders.

"You'll do great, I know you will."