The bile of noxious emotions was swallowed down at the click of the door handle. One swing was all it took to rip it wide open, revealing what looked to be one tired, overworked florist tucked behind her desk. If not for his purpose of barging in, he'd wonder if she was alright, and maybe even ensured her it'd be okay to take a break. More than anyone else, he'd understand the urge to drive nose deep into a sea of work, all for the flimsy gratification of being competent in his position. But he couldn't. Not today, at least.


"Hard at work?" For the first time in what felt like years, the admin had to neatly tuck away the emotions threatening to leak out from behind his stony mask. What was once a natural expression was now a facade delicately crafted for the woman's attentive gaze. Slowly, he approached the desk, green eyes scaling up it's elegant designs.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

"Well enough."

A free hand tilted back the spare chair sat before her desk, scooting it far out enough for him to slip into it with general ease. Leaning forward, he took a quick gander at the sprawled-out files coating the top of her desk. It looked identical to the ones he'd pulled out just the other day in a similar attempt to play catch up.

"It's nice finally having an escape from the grunt work." He forced himself to smile at the joke, parading an air of casualty. If he were to approach the lioness, he'd have to do it carefully. Smoothly. "I see you're going through some of the files as well. What do you think of them so far?"

Elisabeth Fiorelli

"I think they promoted me because I have too much time to spare. What about you? How are you handling all this?"

The words pinned his heart up on the stake, cold and vulnerable, as if she had seen through every piece of hesitation that laced his thoughts ever since her promotion went through. He heaved a heavy sigh as he stirred in the chair, legs uncrossing and recrossing in the opposite manner.

"Not much better than you," he admitted, genuinely. Although this topic wasn't his initial intention when entering the office, it felt good to take a moment to let out a bit of steam. There were few who'd understand the pressure they were suddenly put under, and even fewer he'd thought to confine in. @elisebeth and himself might've been far from confessing what they saw upon their first meeting, but at the very least, he felt safe in revealing some truths behind his typically stoic persona. "I can handle delegation just fine -- been doing it for years already, so it's nothing I haven't seen before -- but science reports? Those are beyond me."

Which was unfortunate.

He shifted again, eyes glancing out to the décor of the office. It was nice-- far nicer than his own. "I've also been trying to," how does he put it? "socialize with the new recruits. As per underboss Martín del Mar 's suggestion."

For a second there, he had almost forgotten his objective and the emotions that came with it. Swallowing down another ball of hesitation, his fingers lightly rapped the edges of the chair's armrest. Let it come out naturally, he told himself. Though, his patience was wearing thin.

"...Did you ask for the promotion? Or was did it come as a surprise?"

Elisabeth Fiorelli

The rare glimpse of twinkling joy left a bittersweet taste on his tongue. It was the same taste that swelled in his mouth whenever she spoke of the wonders of working under Rocket, and the feelings it allowed her to connect to. Part of it derived from the tinges of jealousy that still stirred in his stomach, while another part of it derived from the guilt of wishing she felt the exact opposite; that she despised the organization for what it was and preferred keeping an arm's length away from its operations.

At least she didn't ask for the promotion, though.

"No, I didn't either." A short pause broke his slow, steady words. "It was brought onto me after a few conversations."

A means to garner more power -- that's why he accepted the position. Because, in the event of a hostile situation erupting between themselves and the league, it'd be the admins and underbosses who receive the first layer of defenses, and by default, that meant August Gallagher too. That, and having access to all the stored documentation was a chance he'd rather not give up.

"Any reason why you accepted?"

Elisabeth Fiorelli

"I'd prefer you to stay alive."

There it was. The confession that was kept hidden behind tight lips and forcibly dull gazes.

If she were to stay hidden, as she had been up until then, and kept her name solely tied to that floristry shop, even if the worst were to befall the organization, he'd still be in a position to protect her. And, just maybe, she'd be able to walk away with her hands clean from the blood the organization will surely shed.

"I just..."

It was hard explaining this because frankly, he didn't fully understand where this concern was coming from. Elisabeth was a capable, grown woman, with a mind sharp enough to make her own decisions. He knew that as well as anyone else. And yet, the implication her name would brazenly be placed beside his own still made his stomach twist in on itself.

For years, he'd been forced to bear witness to countless lives getting stained in blood. That's not to mention that those who manage to survive those trials almost never come out the same.

A sigh escaped his lips as he stared back at her. When he continued his sentence, he does so softly, concern still clear in his voice and expression. "I'm just worried--" how should he explain it in words she'd understand, "that rocket would be the one shaping your fate for you." And that fate would come sooner than she'd realized.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

"Of what use would I be to you, as I was?"

Nothing. She'd have no use to him, or have a say in their games for power. Her value would've remained the same as it was back in those woods when the thought of her death carried no weight on his mind.

No, that was naïve to think. Whether he understood these feelings or not didn't matter -- at the very least, he had to be honest with himself and the conclusion that spat back at him: she didn't need to be of use to him to warrant his protection. Because now, after all these conversations and time spent learning of one another, she had gained more worth in his eyes than almost anyone else within the organization.

When he opened his mouth to explain this, she had already continued, airing out a question that came to surprise him.

"I don't know."

His response came quick, slickened by what he thought to be a mutual understanding of the chains that bound both of them in vastly different ways.

"But..." The thought struggled to come out. No matter how similar they may be, their time spent on that rink proved that they were far from the same person, and his inabilities didn't necessarily mirror her own. Just because he failed to take hold of his life, time and time again, didn't mean she'd have to share the same fate. "I think it can be."

Elisabeth Fiorelli