What a turn of events. Another encounter with Martín del Mar, this time at his invitation.

The excessively wealthy man couldn't have picked a better outing, honestly. It was a gorgeous afternoon, with even more gorgeous company. Even their vessel for the day was remarkable, a fact Mars made sure to mention.

Curiously, Barnaby wasn't looking at the ocean view or even the yacht when he responded, but at Mars himself. The journalist's sunglasses ever so slightly slid down the bridge of his nose before he purred, "Yes, quite amazing."

Soon they departed, the Slateport shoreline shrinking into the horizon. The sea water that sprayed the pair as they glided across the water was refreshing and almost nostalgic. That, coupled with the scent of the ocean air, reminded Barnaby of his excursions on Azure Bay in Kalos. He was feeling a good mixture of familiarity and tempered anticipation.

"We could always jump in the hot tub."

An innocent offer? Well, Barnaby responded with a not-so innocent answer.

"I would love to, Martín. Lead the way."

By this point the two were aware of the other's criminal affiliation. Martín del Mar a ROCKET admin, and BARNABY FINCH still a lowly grunt. Barnaby had plans and ambitions of rising through the ranks, of course, but that took time. For now, he was the subordinate.

Their power dynamic was... oddly arousing, though. Barnaby sometimes felt he was playing with fire. Their game of cat and mouse could have dire consequences. And yet... why did the thought of being burned excite him so?

Martín del Mar
mission: SLEEPLES IN SLATEPORT

☉

It was surprising how so simple a touch could elicit not-so simple reactions. Mars' fingers met no resistance as they laced through Barnaby's own. A shock of pleasant electricity ran up along the journalist's arm and somehow settled on his cheeks; they reddened slightly. A whisper of a thought crossed Barnaby's mind, but it fled upon hearing Mars' direction.

"Come."

He obeyed.

"I am. It brings back fond memories of my youth," He responded, beginning to unbutton his light linen shirt. "My family would occasionally sail from Azure Bay. We ventured out more often in my early childhood. Things became... busier as I grew older."

Ah, yes, his family.

Many would be surprised to learn that Finch was not his given name. It was a stage name, meant to appeal to the masses. Almost no one besides his immediate relatives knew that he was born Barnaby L'oiseau.

The Bird.

Fitting, considering his lifelong struggle to fly. Metaphorically, of course.

Martín del Mar
mission: SLEEPLES IN SLATEPORT

☉

It was fortunate for Barnaby that he was good at multitasking. Years of juggling his public and private ambitions had sharpened this skill. So, when Mars began delving into his own childhood experience and taking off his shirt at the same time, Barnaby could both listen and admire without much trouble.

"Ooh, a smaller port, but just as beautiful. Tucked alongside a mountain range. Very picturesque." Barnaby's voice was wistful as he recalled memories of his home country.

Movement quickly snapped his attention back to reality, however, as the ROCKET admin tossed his clothing aside and made for the hot tub. Barnaby watched, momentarily mesmerized, as Mars' toned, athletic body slipped into the bubbling water. Then, an offered hand.

"Coming," Barnaby replied, smiling down at Martín del Mar . "One moment, cher."

He casually finished unbuttoning his own shirt, then bent down to remove his deck shoes and ankle cut socks (a festive pair sporting holiday wreaths and PIKACHUs in Santa hats). Not the most fashionable, but tis' the season and all that.

Righting himself, Barnaby strode toward the hot tub and accepted Mars' hand, using it to help steady himself as he too slid inside. He settled about a foot away from his date; a comfortable distance for conversation, etc.

"Mmmm! This feels amazing."

Martín del Mar
mission: SLEEPLES IN SLATEPORT

☉

The scent of brine and ocean mist was indeed a comfort to Barnaby, as was the company beside him. He could feel the stress of the holidays, of work, of life in general melting away into the bubbling water.

"Beaucoup mieux. Thank you for inviting me."

A genuine smile of appreciation crossed Barnaby's lips. He'd have his work cut out for him trying to top this excursion the next time they went out together. Perhaps he'd charter a private jet to a tropical paradise?

Then, a question slipped from the banker's lips. Barnaby pushed his thoughts away; he was getting ahead of himself, anyway.

"Of course. I'm an open book." A lie. There were many things that Barnaby wasn't willing to divulge just yet, if ever. Time would tell if Martín del Mar achieved that level of trust.

"What's on your mind, Martín?"

Martín del Mar
mission: SLEEPLES IN SLATEPORT

☉

Upon hearing the inquiry, Barnaby's face became blank, emotionless - at stark contrast to his usually bubbly countenance. It was his eyes, though, that may have stirred the most concern. They became sharp and calculating, like a cat observing its prey. Mars was getting a glimpse beyond the veil.

"A reasonable question." Barnaby paused for quite awhile; the sound of the hot tub jets and the gulls up above filled the silence. "... I suppose you could say that my wealth and my career are tied to ROCKET." He glanced over at Mars with those cold, serious eyes, being sure to make contact with the banker's own. "I wouldn't say desperation is the correct term, though."

That was all he'd get. For now. It wasn't cute to go into one's childhood trauma on a first date, after all.

Just as suddenly as it'd left, Barnaby's shining smile returned. Sliding a little closer to Mars, enough that their thighs were touching, the journalist leaned in and whispered in a teasing tone, "I could ask you the same thing, Monsieur Admin."

Martín del Mar
mission: SLEEPLES IN SLATEPORT

☉

"Thank you for answering honestly."

Had he? His response had felt like more of a deflection than anything, really. But he did appreciate that Martín del Mar didn't probe further, even though he probably could have demanded answers. Demands didn't seem to be his style, though.

Coaxing, however? Like the goosebumps his whispered question coaxed onto Barnaby's skin? Yeah, that seemed more his speed.

Barnaby pulled away slightly, just enough so that their eyes could meet yet again. Enough that their lips were teasingly close.

"I do."

Truly. Mars was an enigma that had surprised Barnaby at every turn. For whatever reason, he wanted to know more about the garden stranger turned ROCKET admin.

That curiosity aside, Mars' touch had elicited a new yet all too familiar desire. Only a few seconds were needed to process the gesture; then, a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. Without much hesitation, Barnaby's own hand would casually be placed over Mars', fingers smoothly interlocking with the banker's.

Was this a vise hold or a guiding action?

Barnaby hadn't decided yet.

Martín del Mar
mission: SLEEPLES IN SLATEPORT

☉

Warmth bloomed under Mars' touch. Barnaby leaned into the offered palm, enjoying the intimacy and attention. In fact, everything Martín del Mar was doing set off sparks along every nerve, threatening to ignite into something more.

"Can you prove it?"

How badly did he want to know? About the Admin's past, his ties to ROCKET.

Truthfully, Barnaby was curious, but not ravenous for the information. Curiosity wasn't what provoked his next action - no, it was the challenge in Mars' voice which aroused him. He felt some veiled double meaning there. Whether real or simply perceived, Barnaby still took the bait.

"Of course." He whispered back, sounding confident without being smug.

The tension was almost palpable at this point. It took everything he had not to give in, to let their lips finally meet. Instead, Barnaby continued to play Mars' game, lips grazing against the other man's as he added,

"Try me."

Okay, that might have been a bit less tactful.

Martín del Mar
mission: SLEEPLES IN SLATEPORT

☉