[attr="class","main"]

It's not the first time someone's entered incorrect data. It won't be the last. Still, Cillian scowls at the blank fields as if they had personally wronged him. He preferred to prep his meetings based on who he'd be meeting with.[break][break]

Left in the dark, he decides against cancelling out of spite. He turns the heat up in the room, sets a pot of tea on the desk, and waits.[break][break]

When his husband walks in, Cillian's irritation shifts to surprise, then warmth. He is still Underboss Quinn in this space, not the man that Tempest would greet at home, but what small softness he might spare on the job is presented as he tilts his head into the kiss.[break][break]

"Hello, love," he rumbles, and then, "You filled out the form incorrectly."[break][break]

His lip twitches, all prior annoyance having faded. He'd show his husband how to use it properly later.[break][break]

Amber eyes flick to the chewed pen-tip, then to the pad it rests against. This was business, not pleasure, but what business, exactly?[break][break]

"What can I do for you?"

[break][break]

[attr="class","main"]

"I did?" Temp frowns a bit; though he looks more confused than upset. "Hm... it did kick back a lot of errors." But, shifting to sit back, a few things are jotted down on the papers he has with him. That was something to figure out later. For now... business.[break][break]

Still, he's giddy, having a hard time sitting still. Somehow, he's already smudged a bit of blue ink onto his thumb.[break][break]

"Well... where I'm working under Amor Rose now, I was given space and allowance for personal projects. So, I wanted to interview you and the other Avatars in Rocket about some things I was curious about."[break][break]

It tastes odd on his tongue, to think his opinions and thoughts could be... useful. His usual, insane fixations just felt annoying or like a hindrance when he couldn't put them into words.[break][break]

Cillian Quinn had been his first choice in this. Mostly because he trusted Cillian to not judge him while also remaining professional. He also figured an analytical mind like Cillian's might be able to come up with questions or cover ground that he wouldn't think to uncover on his own.[break][break]

"Would you be okay answering some of the questions I came up with?"

[attr="class","main"]

"It's old."[break][break]

Cillian allows excuses for his husband that would not be afforded to others. Though they went through great pains to avoid most nepotism, the little things slipped through the cracks.[break][break]

He simply couldn't be cross with his lover when the man looked at him with those big eyes.[break][break]

"I'll ask Lulu Flint if she can look into updating it, maybe."[break][break]

Maybe, because he's still worried she'll try to run off again. It will be some time before that anxiety can be assuaged.[break][break]

He tilts his head as Temp explains himself. "Oh?"[break][break]

He was ordinarily extremely private, especially when it came to something as personal as his avatarship. Others had asked, and most had been turned away. Some, like Naomi Sato, had been fed the details he was comfortable sharing.[break][break]

For Temp, though?[break][break]

"For you? Anything."

[break][break]

[attr="class","main"]

The flush to Temp's cheeks is immediate. Even if they had been married for over a year now, Tempest still felt the little pops and thrills of raw affection and love for Cillian Quinn. He had always heard that the honeymoon phase wouldn't last forever; it had been one of his greatest fears even before meeting the other man. It was easy to dismiss those fears when the other could still make him so giddy over such small things.[break][break]

More confident, Tempest glanced down at his papers and jotted a few things down.[break][break]

"Cillian Quinn, Avatar of Lugia- Shadowed." Written as he wrote on the top. A few boxes were already filled in with a few basic bits and pieces, like if there were any obvious physical signs that Cillian was an Avatar. If his husband didn't waft miasma he would otherwise seem perfectly normal.[break][break]

"If Lugia has anything to add, let her know she's included too, okay?" Tempest knew that the Shadowed Legend didn't speak very much; but the least he could do was offer her the chance if she wanted to take it.[break][break]

"Oh, um.... How did you bond with Lugia? Could you give me some details?" It was said kind of woodenly, as if he hadn't painstakingly thought of these questions and rehearsed them to himself before coming in here.

[attr="class","main"]

They may be out of their honeymoon phase, where they couldn't be in a room together and keep their clothes on, but Cillian looks at Temp with an enduring fondness despite his gaze catching on the chewed tip of the pen.[break][break]

Miasma indeed floods the room, shifting with their movements.[break][break]

"She wouldn't need permission."[break][break]

There's amusement in his tone; Lugia's PRESSURE assures them of her presence, red eyes like devilish lamps in the deep.[break][break]

"Are you asking about the avatar bond?" Cillian tilts his head. He's retrieved one of his own pens from the pocket of his shirt, twirling it idly between his fingers. A common idle behaviour Temp would know well. "Or before?"

[break][break]

[attr="class","main"]

"Yeah... she can get kind of loud." Tempest teases, lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes as he laughs. A dimple peeks from his cheeks as he grins. "I know some Legendaries are pretty quiet. It's just to let them know I'm interested in listening to them, too, if they decide to speak up."[break][break]

With Cillian Quinn asking for clarification, Tempest makes a quick note to add more clarity to his questions. Best to avoid confusion when talking to some of the others about this.[break][break]

"Honestly, both would be good. Any Avatarship granting I've seen has always seemed like random chance, but I know that yours was unique. She was... attacked by Nihelego and poisoned, right? And Rocket found her in some lab or something?" The details were fuzzy, since Temp had only really been fed bits and pieces.[break][break]

He could also, very faintly, remember when Walsh had blasted her with some machine and gave Lugia enough of her sanity back to grant Cillian Avatarship. He had been there for that, but he wasn't as active in Rocket as he was now, so he hadn't really understood what was happening or why at the time.

[attr="class","main"]

Cillian smirks, understanding the humour. Lugia rarely spoke; when she did, it was often to him alone. Yet Temp was one of the few to hear the deep, corrupt timbre of her telepathy in choice moments.[break][break]

She does not speak now, but Cillian knows she appreciates the aspect of consent woven into Temp's interview.[break][break]

"Not a lab," he corrects, shaking his head. "A ruin. You remember the Silver Spire?" It had stood as a centerpiece in Sootopolis for ages, until a schism had replaced it with the Tree of Life. Now, a memorial built by Tempest Quinn himself stood in place of them both. "She sheltered there from the Nihilego, but I guess Abiatti disturbed her."[break][break]

And now, thanks to illeana reyes, Cillian knew why.[break][break]

Feeling oddly shy about discussing his bond with the legendary in her presence, Cillian shifts uncomfortably in his seat. A subtle tell that someone who knew him as well as his husband wouldn't be likely to miss.[break][break]

"Walsh gave me the Beast Ball." Cillian produces it from its spot on his hip, sets it on his desk. Stark yellows break up its deep blue design, and the absence of light declares it empty. "After our scientists helped stabilize her condition. I didn't really know what to make of her, at first. The most powerful shadow Pokémon I'd ever seen, let alone owned." He winces at the word owned, and quickly corrects, "That was before I came to respect her the way I do now, of course."[break][break]

He licks his lips, fiddles with his pen knife.[break][break]

"At first I was just impressed by her raw power, but I did a lot of looking into the legends surrounding Lugia before... well." His smile is tight. She hadn't always been a shadow. "Figured it must've taken a hell of a lot to affect her this much." He's sheepish, wringing his hands. "Started to look at her differently, and I guess she noticed."[break][break]

You are different, also.[break][break]

Though she speaks to Cillian, she does so aloud.[break][break]

You have been kind to me she had told him, once. He does not want those words in the report; does not want Rocket to have such ammunition against him.
[break][break]
"As for the present... I wouldn't be able to imagine not having a bond if we hadn't taken that trip to the Border. It was like losing a part of myself. It felt empty." He shakes his head. "I didn't like it."[break][break]

But that didn't exactly answer the question, so...[break][break]

"The bond. It was a little weird, at first. Now it's comforting. Reassuring, like." He presses his lips together. "Leave that out. Put, ah. Natural. It felt unnatural at first, but now it feels as normal as breathing. Yeah, that's good."

[break][break]

[attr="class","main"]

Tempest nods along, making affirmative noises as he listens. A few glances are sneaked up at Cillian Quinn as the other talks; while Temp wanted to comment (he did know that tower! It's infiltration had been one of the last things he had done while being a mole!), he stayed silent to allow his husband room to talk. Let the stream of consciousness flow, as they say.[break][break]

The words his husband said were scribbled down and paraphrased, not a direct one-to-one recording. Only the important bits would remain in the report; and of course, Cillian would get a chance to read over it to omit anything he might like. Even as loyal to Rocket as he was, Tempest was loyal to his husband first. The nepotism could flow two ways.[break][break]

Temp nods along, his Torchic-scratch sloppy on the page. It would not be often in the science department they would be able to parse out his writing...[break][break]

"Thanks for all that." Temp smiles shy at Cillian, but he also raises his eyes to behind his husband's head; where Lugia lingered in the waters. Her red eyes shone through the thick glass. Where most would see a horror movie, Tempest only felt a sense of comfort from the corrupted glow.[break][break]

"May I?" A motion to the Beast Ball. He raises a hand to take it, holding it in the air just long enough to allow Cillian to give his consent. Only after does he take it, spinning it in his hand to examine from all angles. Aside from the natural scratches and fading of use, it was such a strange construction. Tempest had seen it many times; hanging from Cillian's belt or stored away carefully in their home. But it wasn't his, so he had never went out of his way to examine it or do more than pass it to the other with Cil's other pokeballs.[break][break]

It doesn't have the same release joint as a normal pokeball. But, with a little fussing, Tempest does get it to crack open without breaking it. Tilted open, the insides are sleek with circuitry and strange wiring. Yet, Tempest makes a face as he places it back down on the desk.[break][break]

One of his Lure balls is taken from his pocket; Agni is released, the Flareon sniffing the air curiously. The fire type examine Cillian, head tilted. Instead of going in for a bite, she sits down next to her trainer and just continues to stare almost unblinking at the blond.[break][break]

The Dive Ball is cracked open much the same as the Beast Ball, sat on the table. Tempest takes his phone out and snaps a picture before turning both of them around, the insides facing Cillian now on the desk.[break][break]

"Look at that. Weird, isn't it?" Where the Dive Ball was more rounded and clean with the alignment of it's circuits, the Beast Ball's was more jagged and square. But, while strange, Tempest didn't know enough about how Pokeballs were made to even guess the significance of the why.[break][break]

Picking up his pen, a note was still made at the bottom of the page.[break][break]

But, he would also plow along in his questioning.[break][break]

"Okay, um... when you first bonded, how did it feel? Any pain or discomfort? Euphoria?" Temp pronounces 'euphoria' like a word he's only read and not heard.

[attr="class","main"]

Cillian is rarely without the Beast Ball. It stays close, even when not worn, because of the significance of what it had once held. Now, disconnected from the legend it had subjugated, the weight of it is lighter.[break][break]

Still, it posed a danger to Lugia. Potentially, he thinks, to any legend that it might seek to contain. He would not allow just anyone to touch it. Temp wasn't just anyone, though, and Cillian only hesitates for a beat before he inclines his head.[break][break]

His lip twitches as Temp fumbles to open it.
[break][break]
"You have to- yeah, you got it."
[break][break]
The PRESSURE in the office increases. Subtle, to anyone already under its effects, but Cillian notices when even he starts to feel uncomfortable. Lugia did not trust Temp. She tolerated him for Cillian's sake, perhaps even appreciated him for his respect toward her, but she did not trust. Not until the Beast Ball is back in Cillian's possession does the air in the room become easier to breathe.
[break][break]
"Euphoria, for sure," Cillian agrees, taking the subtle opportunity to correct Temp's pronunciation without making a big deal of it. "It was this huge rush of energy. Like when you're hit by a surge of adrenaline, but way more intense. When it settled, I just felt..." Cillian shakes his head. It's hard to find the words for the feeling.
[break][break]
Not second-best, not the runner-up, the underboss, the McDonald's Shift Manager. The Harbinger, Lugia's chosen.
[break][break]
"Worthy," he decides quietly, after some thought, his voice heavy with emotion.
[break][break]
Good enough, at last.

[break][break]

[attr="class","main"]

"Euphoria." Tempest repeats, his own subtle way, as he writes it down. A quick glance to show gratitude between them; Cillian Quinn always knew how to correct without making him feel stupid.[break][break]

Temp's pen pauses as he takes in the other's words. This isn't like with others; when he approaches those in Rocket who will allow him questions. History, a deeper knowledge.[break][break]

Tempest puts the most base of it there. To spread open Cillian's ribcage for all of Rocket to see was... sacrilege.[break][break]

Cillian was Tempest's altar to worship at alone. If they hadn't been graced with such innate knowledge of his husband, Tempest would be damned before he handed it over on a silver platter. Like a dragon he would hoard the other's heart for himself as much as he was allowed.[break][break]

So he kept it clinical.[break][break]

Mentally, though, he makes a note to smother Cillian in affection when it's just the two of them later at home.[break][break]

"How would you describe what your powers are and what they do?"

[attr="class","main"]

Later, when he reviews what Tempest has written, he will be filled with an overwhelming affection for the man's careful wording of his most vulnerable admissions. Now, he feels only relief to move on to a new question.[break][break]

"They're primarily centered around Shadow Pokemon, and the miasma." It drifts around him even now, curling serpentine around their legs and settling like a blanket across the office floor. Temp would be well used to that. "Within the miasma, myself and my shadows are faster. It's like being constantly on edge. My reactions are quicker." He could evade with inhuman speed. "Regardless of it, my shadows are stronger than any other. And those that are not mine will obey, in her presence, so long as I can offer... distraction." His smile is devoid of warmth. "Usually turning them against their masters."[break][break]

He'd done as much to Thomas Benoit, turning the Shadow Luxray against him before claiming it as his own. Usually, their allegiance returned to their masters shortly, but he'd stolen the pokeball the Luxray was housed in.[break][break]

"In that same vein, I can possess the fallen. It doesn't matter if they're still breathing." He'd learned that horrific aspect in conflict with Isaac Merlo, whose soldiers had risen against him. Thought of the traitor sits acidic in his gut. "It lasts only a short time, but turns tides in battle."[break][break]

It was this power that often saw him labelled as monstrous; a title he did not dispute.[break][break]

"And I can impart the shadow's blessing on Pokémon, even those who've never been in contact with the toxin. I did it to my Klefki, here."[break][break]

He clicks his tongue, and the tiny fairy stirs to life and demonstrates its SHADOW HOLD, coiling umbral tendrils around Temp's arm. Another click of Cillian's tongue sees them retract.

[break][break]

[attr="class","main"]

A thoughtful hum. At his side, Agni flicks her ears up as the Klefki tangles around Tempest's arm. She growls low in warning to the fairy, her tail twitching at the end, but she otherwise stays calm in the presence of Cillian Quinn.[break][break]

Tempest makes his notes, though a lot of it was stuff he had already preliminarily written. There are a few extra things not detailed in Cillian's own words, like the texture, weight, and smell of the miasma. All things that Temp was very familiar with as well.[break][break]

"I didn't know about the zombie thing. That's really cool." Where many might find it revolting or strange, not Tempest. Instead his mind was swirling with scenes like from an action movie. His husband standing and looking all cool while an army of the dead heeded his every beck and call, fighting for him...[break][break]

Okay, okay. Enough of that. Temp could jump the other later, when there wasn't work to do.[break][break]

He shifted his legs and adjusted his grip on his pen before clearing his throat.[break][break]

"When you use your avatar powers, how does it feel? Any physical or emotional changes? Head-rush? Pain? Stuff like that."

[attr="class","main"]

Cool.[break][break]

Cillian actually laughs.[break][break]

"Where were you when Walsh first entrusted her to my care?" He's joking, clearly, lips pulled into a half-smirk. "Everyone else was all up in arms about how wrong it was."[break][break]

They'd still been friends, back then, but not as close as they were now. He'd stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the likes of Emma and Marcel in that Rocket meeting, while Temp had likely been confined to the grunts in the back if he was there at all. Now, though Temp was still excluded from the meetings of Rocket's upper echelon, his status afforded him a position closer to the front of the pack as an executive.[break][break]

Shaking his head as the smile fades, he agrees, "It is pretty cool."[break][break]

Though Temp does his best to maintain professional composure, Cil is attuned enough to the other to know when he's hot and bothered. Sparing him the torture of playing into it as he usually might, Cillian is quick to help redirect.[break][break]

"Physical... no, not unless I overdo it. Then it's like... exhaustion, dizziness. The miasma kind of goes nuts, too; you've seen that before." Temp had held him close beneath the Tree of Life as he'd recovered in the aftermath of the Sootopolis takeover. "Mentally, it's harder to think when I've pushed it too far. Like trying to think through a fog."[break][break]

Temp would know, as well, that the use of his power opened him up to the negative aspects of Lugia's influence. He'd become quicker to anger, quicker to violence, more reckless than usual. He leaves these things out, deliberate.[break][break]

"No pain, though," he reports, confident. "Just get really tired. But less so, now that I've had them for so long. I guess it's like working out any other muscle, y'know? Easier with practice."

[break][break]