Angelo was no stranger to the League HQ. His boots had trodden down their fancy, polished halls a number of times, all of which with a visitor lanyard framing his neck and in the company of scientists Eva Morales or illeana reyes  - never allowed to explore.

When the contract between Nautica and the AQUA Initiative had been officialised, he'd decided to take full advantage of unlocked doors. 

7PM ticks around. After a small self-guided tour, he'd found a small patch of carefully landscaped grass near the entrance in which to appreciate the fresh air. 

He's contemplating his next course of action when someone leans against the railing beside him. 

“Young. Thanks,” he greets the elite four member, extending a hand towards Callan Young  while remaining propped against metal beams. “Can't say I would've bet on it, either.”

There's an easy-going smile on Angelo's face as he's congratulated. Beneath the surface however, the pilot's not quite convinced his newfound position is one to celebrate. It feels more like a necessity, than an achievement. 

Something that had to be done. 

“You on the way home or stealin' a break?”

❝

MADE BY MIZO

“Sure. I could easily kill thirty minutes in the cafeteria or somethin'.”

Angelo doesn't mind the scent of cigarette smoke wafting over them briefly, before its pulled away into the parking lot. It reminds him of fleeting days spent in Mauville University dorms. 

Contemplation lingers on the tip of his tongue like its pungent scent however, as he considers the question. 

“Well, FERNANDO SILPH once told me that there were resources the AQUA Initiative could offer if I joined,” his fingers drum a nonsensical beat on the steel railing. “He was wrong. At the time.”

Now there were things the League could offer him worth his signature. Training. Information. Power at his back to see the incoming storm Latios had warned him of navigated to victory. 

“Don't tell him that, though.” He winks playfully.  

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MADE BY MIZO

It doesn't surprise Angelo much to hear that the other AQUA members didn't converse much. Not after the train wreck of a mission he and skyler dross had gone on to Sea Hoenn, that one time. 

Chances were they were still a mishmash of egos and forces, lumped together with the hope they'd stick.

Good to know.  

They have the cafeteria to themselves when they arrive, Angelo claims a table near the window while Callan gets some beers.

There's no attempt made to follow and offer to pay when he catches sight of those prices. Extortion, pure and simple. 

“Don't worry about it,” he shrugs, unoffended. “About Anderson and Henderson's situation, right? Guess nothing's changed there?”

❝

MADE BY MIZO

Beer bottles clink together in a merry sound, although what follows after the first sip is far less cheerful. In both taste and conversation. 

Callan was right. Angelo had little interest in his worldly woes.

Still, the pilot's expression retains straight faced as the elite four member pours his bleeding heart out on the table. Hiding the bitterness on his tongue as natural as the smiles he conjures from thin air. 

He wonders with a thought as dour as the beer, how much of these problems were of Callan's own making. 

Silently, his heart goes out not to the man opposite, but for the child left without the support of their father.

Angelo shakes his head. Guy really was an artist.

“Ash? No.” 

Sand, though...?

“That's life. It always has its ups and downs, its just about how you make the cards you've been dealt work for you.” Placing the bottle on the table, blunt nails pick at the corner of a damp label. “And you're already plannin' on doing something about it, right?”

His lips curve into a slight grin. “If it were me, I wouldn't sit around twiddling my thumbs, either.”