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Gavin swipes his tongue over his teeth, something positively feral in his eyes.

"She will. We will."

Bloodlust was not a trait the underboss possessed under ordinary circumstances, but nothing would come between his need to see Lulu Flint's vengeance exacted in full. She would topple Silph Co. They would dismantle the League. And when his world turned to ash around him, they would put an end to the monster that was FERNANDO SILPH.

It is fortunate that their discussion soon turns to Martín del Mar's newfound capabilities, else the Harbinger might've lost himself to his patron's penchant for rage. Instead Shadow Lugia seeks to soothe his troubled temper, a distant brush against his mind that grounds him in the present. His racing heart slows, the fire in his eyes dimmed to smoldering embers. Silph is not here now; Martín is.

"How big?" Gavin wonders. "How many? Does it drain your energy?"

He leans forward, a new fire sparking: that of the scientist.

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Do you? Gavin wonders. How much?

The question is in his eyes, but it never makes it past his throat. Trust is a two-way street but they needn't walk in tandem, and Martín will speak his truths when he is ready. Gavin inclines his head, instead, accepting.

"I don't know if my experiences are comparable," the underboss admits, miasma shifting with his movements as he sets the glass eye on the nearest surface, "but I know that when I overuse my power in too short a span of time, it fluctuates out of control." The last memorable occasion had been in the aftermath of the Sootopolis takeover, shivering in Tempest Quinn's arms as the miasma bled from him in waves. "Less so, now, but I've had a lot of practice. Don't push yourself too hard. Rocket needs you."

I need you, but that's a lot of pressure. He refrains.

It makes him anxious to think of the Unown as puppets pulling at invisible strings, manipulating Mars' mind.

"Are you going to tell Walsh?"

I won't if you don't. The promise is in his eyes.

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"I don't think Chu-e was, either."

His voice is saddened by softness. Chu-e, not Choi as Gavin called him these days. Was, because whatever had been returned to them during the Darkest Day was not the friend he'd mourned.

"Even if you're not an avatar, you're — different." He doesn't say it as if it's negative, though there is a frown on Gavin's lips. Different could be a good thing, but it could also be dangerous.

What Martín del Mar suggests is treachery, but Gavin looks him straight in the eye.

"I don't think you should, either."

Would you support me, if it came to that? How far he has come from the frightened grunt who cowered beneath the shadow of Silas Blackwell. Thoughts of treason settle like dust between them and Gavin leaves them unvoiced.

One step at a time.

"I'll back up whatever you want him to know. I can't deny that something happened," because the last thing he wants is the boss' suspicions, "but I can omit what you've shown me here."

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"I don't know."

That's the truth, much as he hates to admit it. He hadn't known what was happening to Chu-e Choi and he's not sure what's happening to Martín del Mar and the powerlessness of it all turns his stomach. He's meant to be a leader, but how is he meant to lead when there's so much he still doesn't understand?

There is something of which he is sure, however: "He will use whatever you let him take." A shadow passes over the gaze of Rocket's loyal agent. "Trust me on that."

No matter what the cost.

Lugia's anger is distant, but he feels the brush against his mind at their shared memory. She'd enveloped him in the shadow of her wings, as if daring Declan Walsh to stand against her chosen vessel, and yet when Walsh had given command, Gavin had given consent.

A forbidden thought slips through.

"Do you think your Unown could stay hidden?"

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Understanding passes between them in spreading silence; Gavin has never appreciated Martín del Mar more. They are aligned in pride, suspicion, and most importantly, caution.

"No decisions should be made with haste." For all they knew, Walsh wasn't a threat, but it's the possibility that chills Gavin's blood. "I was told, once, that to compromise Rocket would be reason enough to..." Gavin's lips pull tight into something that's not quite a smile, much closer to a grimace that haunts in his gaze. "All I'd done was lie to him."

Imagine how he might react to this? It's left implied.

He trusts Mars in a way that Lulu Flint has assured he no longer trusts Declan Walsh, so after a breath of hesitation, he adds, "The lie wasn't malicious. Only a name." A history, too, that he'd done his best to hide. "I've been Gavin since Kanto, but my real name is Cillian Quinn. I told him as much. My name, my family." Breath shivers as it leaves his lungs, another sideways glance cast to shadows left by the sun. "Rocket is my family now, Martín. There is little I wouldn't do for them. You're part of that family. Be safe."

If it meant he had to follow Walsh into the depths of hell, Gavin would. And if it meant he had to do the unthinkable...

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There is something in Martín del Mar's eyes when Gavin speaks, a shadow of a memory. Gavin may not know what that memory is but he understands the implication well enough. We are more alike than we think.

"I've done more than survive." What had been a grimace sharpens into a smirk, edged with the pride that Kanto Rocket had beaten out of him. Only under Hoenn's lax influence has it returned, a wildfire to purge his weakness. I have clawed my way up wherever I can. "But I agree — Walsh is only a threat if he perceives us to be the same. I don't have any intention to show my hand unless I know that it can win."

Gavin's never been a gambling man. He takes comfort only in certainty.

"And if it can, but Walsh poses no danger? I am content to follow."

He doesn't want to earn his place through blood and violence if he can earn it just the same through steadfast loyalty and dedication, instead. He is younger than Walsh, and so far as Gavin is aware the Rocket boss is not immortal. Gavin isn't a gambler, but he is possessed of patience.

You need to be safe, too.

The fire in Gavin's gaze dims, softening his features.

"I intend to be," he assures Mars. "I'd be no good of a protector if I got myself killed doing it." That smirk fades to a gentler smile before at last it disappears behind the composure of Gavin's baseline. "But, no, you never told me why you changed it. To distance yourself, I would guess." But after guessing, he leaves a breadth of silence for Mars to elaborate should he so choose.

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