As soon as Cillian Quinn speaks, Temp can pinpoint where he fucked up.

Yet, even though he knows how his words were taken, can see why they were skewed that way in Gavin's mind, it doesn't stop a rough scratch of anger from swelling in his chest. Temp was tired, exhausted, and wounded here, damnit.

So maybe that's why he sets his own jaw, snarls back. Or maybe he's just hurt that Gavin would think of him like that at all.

"I know it's stupid, Cill, but I can't force this baby back into a life of being abused." That Luxray was probably it's parent. He couldn't think of another reason why it would attack like that. And Temp was soft and idealistic. Not cut out for Rocket, at least how it used to be. The kind who would have gotten chewed up by Kanto and spit back out a pile of blood and pulp. Temp would gladly help someone bury a body or beat the shit out of someone- but harm a pokemon? Kill someone?

And there are more sharp words becoming lodged in his throat, heat burning.

Anger flashes like lightning through his eyes, all heat.

"So you'll just force me instead, will you?"

Because Gavin was no baby but Rocket had abused him for months and years until he was their perfect soldier, obedient and loyal. Yet for all that loyalty, for all the times he's stood beside them and done his duty and proved himself, he still lived in fear of that single misstep that might send him back to where he'd been, a grunt groveling before a master.

Never would he expect the danger to come from his own partner.

"Keep it, if it means that much to you. If it gets me killed I hope it's worth it."

He turns as if to walk out before remember that this is his home; he doesn't kick his partner out, instead stalking toward the kitchen for a drink.

Tempest Quinn

The words sting and Temp knows he should feel some type of shame but all he feels is bubbling anger. It's hot and sticky and he knows very well that he should tamp down on the white hot rage licking to the surface. But Temp has always had anger problems, deep seeded and raw and ugly, Cillian Quinn had probably just never had to see them when that fury was pointed at him instead.

"You're a fucking coward, Gavin." Heat rises with his words, the false name spat with venom, as if proving his point. He surges to his feet, staggers as he loses his balance from his wounded ankle. "You clawed your way to the top of a fucking bone pile and what for? What was the point if you're going to cower like a beaten dog every time someone- ugh." Temp doesn't follow him. He just hobbles towards the door, burned skin pulling taunt and a few of the fresh scrapes opening back up.

The door opens, but Temp pauses, acid words he can't hold back.

"I'd rather die standing up for myself than become some beaten down shell of a person." The door is slammed behind him.

And instantly Temp feels regret regret regret bleeding all over his whole being but he just calls out his Pelliper so she can take him back to Slateport.

Coward.

Fate is sealed the moment Temp speaks that word.

Had he said nothing else, it would have been enough to instill the fury that floods cold through his veins. But Temp continues, digging the knife deeper with each word until the wound is torn raw and bleeding and Gavin can hardly think from the rage that consumes his thoughts.

I loved you, but the words won't come. He's shaking. How dare you?

"Get the fuck out of my house."

Low. Cold. A warning. For a beaten dog is liable to snap, and his fangs are bared.

The door slams, and Gavin grips the counter like a lifeline, knuckles white and jaw clenched.

I loved you.

Twice fooled, the third time he is nothing but ice. Over and over, a mantra of the mind: Coward.

Tempest Quinn