BARNABY FINCH'S RESIDENCE, HOME OFFICE

Serena Malcolm would not be left waiting long. After only a moment or two of silence several locks could be heard disengaging from the door, which would soon open into an expansive and tastefully-decorated penthouse.

Barnaby welcomed her in with his characteristic shining smile, although it was not only him who'd come to greet the stranger at the door. The journalist was also flanked by two elegant and impressively-sized NINETALES, one of the Kantoan variety and the other Alolan. Despite their differing appearance, however, the two were twin sisters.

"Ms. Malcolm," Not only her, but an adorable ESPEON tucked cozily into a bag at her side. "Please come in."

He ushered her through the threshold with an amiable wave toward the living room, though Barnaby did not linger here, instead leading her through his home and up the stairs to where his office awaited.

"I've laid out some snacks and tea." Once inside, he gestured to the spread organized on the coffee table in the room. A variety of delectable pastries sat waiting to be plucked up, while teacups and accompanying enhancements like cream and sugar were placed to the side near a steaming kettle.

"Please help yourself." Barnaby poured a warm cup for himself into the most immaculate porcelain, awash in a blue pastoral scene and outlined a brilliant white. After adding a few cubes of sugar to his drink, taking a tentative sip and then nodding slightly in approval, he started to make his way to the desk at the focal point of the room. His NINETALES, in the meantime, settled into their beds beneath and at either side of a large mural hanging on the far wall.

The oversized office chair slid back, Barnaby took a seat, and it was finally time for business.

"Martín del Mar tells me you're interested in collaborating. How can I help?" He inquired, folding his hands in front of him on the mahogany desk.

Serena Malcolm

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As Serena Malcolm began to relay her situation, Barnaby picked up the offered folder and began to peruse its contents. He had no trouble listening and reading at the same time; multi-tasking was an art form he'd perfected long ago.

Every now and again he'd even interject, with such comments like, "Mmm, yes, the public loves to gossip, even if there's no basis to what they're gossiping over."

For the most part, however, he let her speak her piece without much interruption. When the ROCKET Beast finished, he's respond after a moment or two of consideration.

"Instead of blatantly expressing a pro-Rocket sentiment, I believe it's more beneficial to sow seeds of distrust within the League, as you mentioned. Be critical of their policies, point out their hypocrisy, question the very foundations of their government. With enough breadcrumbs resentment is bound to follow." He paused, his eyes flashing up over the brim of a document. "Then the better option becomes abundantly clear."

It was not as conspicuous of a strategy as some ROCKETs preferred, but covert manipulation had its benefits. BARNABY FINCH saw it as playing the long game in a world obsessed with shortsighted validation.

"I see you have quite a bit of information here," The journalist observed in a contemplative tone, placing the folder back onto his desk so that it lay open between them. He leaned back then, his office chair squeaking beneath him as he did so.

"I've skimmed through most of the documents, but I'd rather here it from you. Tell me, what sort of dirt do you have on these League officials?"

Serena Malcolm

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