The sun had set long before they'd graced the Sootopolis casino with their presence. Entering the Rocket-controlled city, as it turned out, had become an exercise in caution and subtlety - none of those being skills Skyler had ever been particularly good at.

It rankled her, how much the city she'd once walked freely in had changed.

The casino was an odd meeting place for two League-leaning individuals, and yet Bond had relaxed into his role like it was the most natural thing in the world. In contrast, Skyler's jaw was set in stubborn determination, and her eyes were a challenge to any who met them. Daring them to question her presence here.

She did her best to keep her mind away from Megalopolans. 

"Make that two." On any drinking night, Skyler would've already absconded with a bottle for herself, but this wasn't the Lilycove docks and she very much doubted a bar brawl would ensue.

Unfortunately. The captain was itching for a fight.

"Bit lavish for a city who was recently fought over." Many Sootopolians had never come back, finding home in shores that hadn't yet seen conflict. Skyler couldn't fault them, but it poisoned her blood with a low simmering fury.

She sips at her drink, frowns at the sugary sweetness lingering on her tongue. "Business will thrive anywhere, huh?" 

Gunner Graves

☉

Gunner was right, of course. Rattling the vipers' nest would do her no good. Though Skyler had few reasons to leash her whip-like temper, to lash out now would serve no purpose - least of all to herself.

It shows in the way she allows Gunner to lead her across the room. Leftover tension creeps into shoulders pulled back and a sharp quicksilver gaze. Not quite relaxed, but not outright hostile either.

"Hoennians are hardy people." She'd know, being Lilycovian born and raised. "And I don't blame them, most weren't afforded a VIP seat to- what happened in the last few years. I'd want to live too."

It makes her think of her family. Her mom, waiting helplessly in a bunker as a region-ending meteor invaded the skies. Her dad, whose worst sin had probably been overwatering his beloved plants. Anders, whose life had been cut short right before the Three Day War. Chewed to bits.

Shit. No thinking about Megalopolans. Right.

Whatever alcohol sits in her drink doesn't burn as much as she'd hoped, but it is better than nothing.

"What about you, Bond?" The nickname rolls from her tongue naturally, low-pitched amongst the crowded din of the casino. "Ever felt tempted to forget? To just... say fuck it and leave?"

Gunner Graves

☉

"I've never been one to run from a fight." Rather, she'd been known to run towards them with the sort of reckless abandon that would one day come back to bite her in the ass.

It showed in the collection of scars across sun-kissed skin, there long before she'd been blessed by oceanic depths.

"I don't think I could stand by, you know?" Just the thought of it stirs a frisson of restlessness. Skyler's gaze sweeps over Gunner Graves 's figure, makes sure to catch his own. "I may be selfish in my pursuits, Bond, but you won't see me shy away from defending Hoenn. It's my home."

But therein lies the issue, doesn't it? Because the captain proudly held herself accountable to no one but herself - regardless of good intentions. She didn't look to where - or who - she stepped on in the wake of her impetuousity.

And temperance had never been one of her best qualities, if it'd ever been there at all.

As if on cue, the last of her drink disappears down her throat. A pink tongue swipes over liquor-stained lips as she looks to the many wandering waiters. Quickly, she trades her drink for a new one. 

"Arceus, it's the same one." The look of resignation aimed down at the drink in her hands is downright tragic.

Gunner Graves

☉

Here, far more than in their last mission together, their differences are laid bare under warm chandelier light. Gunner's facade is a smooth and effortless endeavor, meticulously crafted under rigid training for these situations. A professional, in all senses.

In comparison, Skyler's crude attempt snags on the edges of her own temperament.

But no one's noticed them yet, so she must be doing something right. Like not glaring at random people, or not jumping at the distant flash of teeth. New year, new her?

Hah.

A bite-shaped imprint aches under the clothed surface of her arm, even though it'd been years since it'd healed and scarred over.

She follows the motion of Gunner's hand, quirks an amused eyebrow as he takes another drink for himself. "So you're a masochist too, huh?" In truth, the drink isn't as bad as she makes it seem. Then again, Skyler isn't known to be a connoisseur of fine liquor.

Just drinking.

"It'll be a race, no doubt about it. We just gotta make sure we find ourselves in the frontlines." Had Gunner operated only in the shadows, or had he tasted war too? "I know we just survived a region-destroying event, but it feels like we're holding our breath, ya know? Like this is the respite before shit hits the fan."

Not-so eloquently put.

Gunner Graves

☉

War has a way to sneak into your life, a part of you that exists in the shadows of perpetual conflict. Skyler watches it take root in Gunner's expression, matching it to what she sees in the mirror.

Alike, he'd said.

Far too much, she thinks.

Gunner’s inquiry wrenches her from her thoughts, and Skyler blinks slowly.

Over the last few years, her dealings with the League have been strictly one-dimensional: she offers her aid in whatever apocalyptical event is unfolding and, at the end of the day, Hoenn is safer and she’s free to chart its waters. Which is perfectly fine by her, provided she’s properly compensated, in one way or another.

She did get a warship out of it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that before.” She wonders at Gunner’s place in the hierarchy that he could so freely offer the League’s resources. Apparently, according to FERNANDO SILPH , those were in high demand. “Hard to prepare when we don’t know what we’re dealing with, but-“

The pitch of her voice lowers into a secretive hum, a whisper just barely catching on the edge of Gunner Graves ’s ear. “I’ve heard there are sharks in these waters.” Submarines, actually. “Better make sure they don’t bother anyone, huh?” They did sink a Rocket ship together.

Skyler straightens up and downs her second drink of the night with an overdramatic grimace.

“More?” She asks Gunner, turning around without waiting for an answer to swipe two more drinks from a passing tray. When she turns back, her cheeks are flushed a dusky pink. “Y’know, I did think about joining. Still am, to be honest.”

Wait. What?

Gunner Graves

☉

Skyler had a long-standing history of flaunting her absolute disregard for any figure of authority, regardless of consequence. She'd choke on orders before even thinking of following through on them, to the detriment of her well-being. In that at least, Gunner had hit the nail on the head.

Skyler takes a sip of her new drink, mulling over her answer. "I don't want to surrender myself to an institution. No matter how much our interests align." And the captain had more than a few qualms about the League itself. She'd been a first-hand witness to their inefficiency, first in the preparations for the Three Day War and then, later, when they went to Sea Hoenn. Sowing discord without justification.

And she'd be a fool if she thought her mere presence would change that.

"But Hoenn stands on a precipice, and if I don't rise to protect it, I'll have to blame myself for its fall." She was but a pawn on the chessboard of war, but hell if she wouldn't fight tooth and nail for what was dear to her. And therein lies the issue: how would she help without giving some of herself away?

When the tides of conflict passed, would she find herself tethered to a will not her own?

"I tried sending a letter, did you know? My terms were immediately rejected. No compromise." dahlia goode was herself the captain of a well-oiled ship - and Skyler wasn't part of the crew. "But help will be given, one way or another."

Gunner Graves

☉

Good. That word had seldom been used to describe her. Greedy, some called her. Proud? Definitely. Unpredictable, too often. But good?

Skyler snorts inelegantly.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Bond.” But the captain’s lips twitch with the ghost of a smile, as warm as it is troublesome. “Here’s to hoping we get to see more of each other out there.”

Why do you fight, Gunner? For what? For whom?

She raises her drink briefly in salute, then knocks it back with the kind of expertise that would make any drunkard proud. Allowing it to wash away the bitter taste of remembered rejection to make way for this new open door.

“Time to remind ourselves why it’s worth the fight.”

Anyone even remotely familiar with the captain would recognize the telltale signs of when she was up to no good.

There’s a hunger to her eyes, a willingness to stand eye to eye with unsurmountable odds and show ‘em the finger. It creeps in now, as she motions for the bar again, some distance away from that first bartender. A silent invitation.

Gunner’s flushed cheeks hadn’t gone amiss.

“Bet they have shots too. None of this sweetened swill.”

A pause, then-

"Don't worry, I'll carry you home."

Gunner Graves

☉