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Girard made sure to give Pepin his full and undivided attention at the start of his visit, scratching the exuberant Eevee behind his ears, then running his fingertips through the soft fluff of his mane. Mortimer picked the Eevee up into his arms and endured several face licks as he contributed his own flurry of scratches. All in all, Pepin seemed to accept their pampering and scampered off into the kitchen as Girard and Mortimer followed after Barnaby.[break][break]
Girard was pleased to see that, even after some time apart, returning to their normal routine flowed as easily and naturally as if no time had passed at all. Barnaby was quick to put the kettle on and Girard settled into a comfortable barstool, immediately making himself at home. He leaned casually forward, resting his elbows on the countertop as he surveyed Barnaby's tea preparation handiwork, eyes alight with a keen interest. Barnaby certainly knew what he was doing when it came to tea, one of the many qualities that Girard appreciated in the other man.[break][break]
The pawnbroker met the journalist's mischievous grin with one of his own. "No attempts at a guess?" he teased. "Very well. It is a rare Pu-erh cultivated in the Melemele Meadow in Alola. I ordered it specifically for you." His tone was only a little flirtatious, just enough to maintain the modicum of suggestive intimacy that had always existed between them. In truth, behind the playful pleasantries there was a genuine wealth of respectful trust.[break][break]
"Your home lacks the usual holiday decor," Girard noted, as the steaming tea was poured into two fashionable teacups. "Have you been well, Barnaby?" This last question was posed as casually as the rest, but there was an underlying note of concern. It wasn't that Girard suspected anything terribly wrong with Barnaby's current affairs, but the region had been under a great deal of strain lately. Such circumstances could take their toll on even the most resilient of people, Girard knew.

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The tea was complex and delicious, earthy and rich yet light and airy all at once. It was as high quality as Girard had promised it would be. He savored the taste of it, closing his eyes in a moment of bliss as he brought the teacup to his mouth.[break][break]
"Some would find comfort in playing at normalcy," Girard mused, opening his eyes again. "Much of the region still acts as if Christmas is right around the corner." Which, under the usual circumstances, it would be. "But you've never really taken that approach, have you?" A wry smile, that undercurrent of flirtation. But there was also an understanding. Girard, too, was not the sort of man who could simply ignore impending doom.[break][break]
He shifted in his seat, moving closer to his friend - a subtle gesture of comfort. "You are wise to spend whatever time we may or may not have left on the things you care about most." He paused, expression softening. "I'm lucky you consider my friendship one of those things."[break][break]
Did Girard really believe this was the end? He had little faith in the League's ridiculous plan, but Rocket was also scheming. Total annihilation was not the Rocket way - at least, not the Rockets Girard was loyal to. If Rocket wanted to rule, then they'd best ensure there was something left to rule.[break][break]
"We have a very capable group of scientists working on a solution, I am sure," he murmured, speaking some of his thoughts aloud for Barnaby to hear. "You know some of them better than I do. Do you think there is a chance the meteor can be stopped?"

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The feel of Barnaby's body pressing up against his, albeit subtly - just a tease of physical intimacy - sent a small thrill through Girard, though he knew as well as any who were close to Barnaby that the man was prone to seeking physical comfort. Girard didn't mind, though he was often more reserved - distinguished, some had accused of him - after all, Barnaby was someone he, admittedly, often thought about touching...in ways that were perhaps unbecoming for someone who claimed to be "only a friend."[break][break]
Were they "only" friends?[break][break]
Barnaby had had his fair share of flings, even a serious relationship for a while...there was someone now, wasn't there? There always seemed to be someone. Someone who wasn't Girard.[break][break]
Girard had no qualms with sharing a lover; coveting someone often only lead to disquiet and resentment. "Soulmates" was a cowardly term, used by those too insecure to realize that the world was full of many choices, so long as one was willing to pursue them. And yet, Girard had never wanted to make things awkward between himself and Barnaby. There was something special about the reporter, as if winning his trust meant more than mere pleasantries, more than the time a busy man like Barnaby often did not have to give, more than the loyalties that existed between men who had chosen lives of crime over fair play.[break][break]
But the world was ending...so. Why not?[break][break]
"Then don't gamble," Girard murmured, snaking an arm around Barnaby's waist and pulling him closer. They'd hugged before, cuddled even. But now, his amber eyes smoldered with resolve...with suggestion. Something they'd always left unsaid. "We can invest in that which we know is real, something reliable. Even if only for a short time."[break][break]

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As expected, Barnaby declined Girard's advances. The pawnbroker did not resent him for it; it was the arrangement Barnaby had consented to, and it wasn't Girard's intention to get his friend in trouble with someone he supposedly loved.[break][break]
Girard could not control the ways in which people viewed relationships; he might find monogamy distasteful, but that didn't mean those that did choose such a lifestyle ended up regretting it. And yet...he could not help but see a flicker of disappointment in Barnaby's pretty blue eyes as the other man rejected Girard. For a split second, envy boiled in the pit of Girard's stomach. Envy and frustration. If Barnaby was even a little bit unhappy, he ought not limit himself. He should puruse what he desired.[break][break]
Alas. He would not force the issue.[break][break]
"Of course," Girard replied pleasantly, with a slight acquiescing bow of his head. Reluctantly, he let go of Barnaby, brought his hands back to his teacup. The dregs of the pu-erh had grown cold. "My apologies for overstepping."[break][break]
His eyes twinkled with anything but apology, but he knew Barnaby understood. There had always been that undercurrent of "what could have been." Well, relationships had the capacity to change. Perhaps Barnaby's would, at some point in the future, if they all survived the coming weeks, of course.[break][break]
Not that Girard wanted his friend to experience heartbreak. Quite the contrary; he merely hoped Barnaby could have everything he wanted.

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