"I don't."

Blunt though his response may be, it's softened by the smirk that shapes his lips. It's not the fault of the sailboat that Gavin still fears the ocean, though he does feel safer knowing Lugia is nearby. The shadowed legend keeps pace with their boat until they near the fishing spot. A last glimpse of bone-white spines can be caught before she's lost to the deep.

Wouldn't want to scare off the fish, after all.

Ordinarily, Gavin wouldn't confess his trepidation... but a wall had come down during a long night of drinks and confessions.

"I'd prefer to be on land."

notes

Though it would be appreciated, Mars' concern is unneeded: Gavin had willingly subjected himself to the sea-based shenanigans of the Splashfest, after all. If he could handle Mantine surfing, he could handle this.

His amber gaze flicks to the cooler.

"A drink, perhaps."

He'd felt safe enough getting drunk in Mars' company. He did not feel safe getting drunk while out at sea, even with Lugia available for intervention.

"What'd you bring?"

notes

"Mm, pass me one of those." He nods to the seltzer, taking a long swig once the bottle is in his hands.

"It's really not," he agrees, gaze cast over mercifully calm waters. "It was my dad's thing, so..."

So, naturally, he'd learned to hate it.

He has no trouble assembling the fishing rod for the third time; it was not often Gavin needed to be instructed twice. Quinns don't make mistakes. Not where others could see.

notes

Gavin laughs, at that.

"The weather's not all bad. Not near Circhester, though."

It always snowed in the ancient city. That's what he misses most about Galar, he thinks; though Hoenn has experienced strange winters during his time in the region, they pale in comparison to the icy beauty of his hometown.

"Tried to." There's a tension in his shoulders, evident as he adjusts his fishing line. "We'd go down Hulbury way, where it's nicer. I never liked it even then, though, and he knew it. Stopped being for fun after the first time."

In his words, an implication. There were other times, but those a punishment for wrongdoing.

notes

"I would. AROMATHERAPY still makes me sick."

It is entwined in memory with the smell of blood and burning flesh, the sweet smell of summer roses forever tainted.

Mars' consolation isn't expected, but appreciation is shown in the barely-there tug of Gavin's lips. An attempt at a smile falls more into a grimace, but he knows his friend understands.

"I hate it less, now. Than I did."

He feels Lugia's distant appreciation brush against his mind.

He looks to Mars, remembering snippets of a drunk discussion.

"Too young, or... tampered with?"

notes

"Yeah."

His throat closes around the word, straining it. So too did the memories taint the sweet Bayleef whose nature wished only to help, for he associated the Pokémon with pain and punishment.

There is sorrow in his gaze as Mars recounts the tragedy of his childhood. Though his own could not be considered good, it seemed Mars had been forced to adapt to a life of crime and brutality far younger than Gavin himself.

"Have you ever tried to bring them back?"

The memories?

notes

"I can believe that."

Kanto, for Gavin, is the stench of blood and smoke. Circhester is leather and red wine. Sootopolis has become the brine of the bay and the earthy scents of cedar and moss. Of his partner, Tempest Quinn, and of home.

Gavin is wreathed in the scents of cardamom and cinnamon from his cologne, overlaid with peppermint and cigarettes.

He is not surprised when Mars answers in the negative.

"I have," he offers, after a hesitant intake of breath. "It's how I know some of what was done, but... I couldn't go through with it." Fear is a weakness. There is a touch of shame in his tone for his inability to face his own barriers. "It was making the nightmares worse."

It's a tragic thing, the loss of fond memories.

Gavin casts his line out to sea.

"Is there anyone you could ask?"

He does not suggest asking nicely.